Seriously, who are you really?

(IRRITATED) I already told you.

I'm Santa Claus.

(DISBELIEVING) Oh, yeah?

Well, if you're Santa then what did I ask for for Christmas

when I was 12?

Nothing.

Because it was the year you found

that "Penthouse" in the woods.

[gasps] You really are Santa!

Am I really heavier than you?

I, I, I got to-- I got to take control.

Look, I'm not very happy with you.

You can't go around in that suit pretending you're me

and acting like a complete jackass.

What're you talking about?

People love me.

They give me free stuff.

No.

They love me.

You're just exploiting my brand for personal gain

and destroying my reputation.

So there's, like, no toilet on the sleigh.

So, you're, you're just, you're just crapping

in people's houses, right?

You're not hearing me!

Stop wearing that suit or else!

Or else what?

(THREATENING) Or else I will put you

at the top of my naughty list.

You know, you're not talking to a little kid anymore,

so get the hell out of my face, Santa.

I like this suit and I'm keeping it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, you're standing

in my strip club spaghetti.

I got to get this home to my family for supper.

[door opens, closes]

[car starts, tires squeal away]

(THREATENINGLY) You better watch out.

[ominous music playing]

[DOOR OPENS, STRIP MUSIC PLAYING]

[elven footsteps run off]