American Dad! (2005–…): Season 7, Episode 8 - The Unbrave One - full transcript
While Stan and Francine try to figure out if Francine is pregnant, Steve tries to become a superhero in a desperate effort to gain his dad's respect, only to have Roger steal the spotlight.
.
# Good morning, USA
# I got a feeling that
it's gonna be a wonderful day
# The sun in the sky
has a smile on his face
# And he's signing a salute
to the American race
# Oh, boy
# It's swell to say
# Good morning, USA #
Argh!
# Good morning, USA #
Three days till Christmas.
Mr S, I have to mail my letter
to Santa.
I'm asking for an authentic
polar bear helmet
from the movie Golden Compass.
Ha-ha-hoo!
You're a golden dumbass!
Dad, be nice to Jeff.
He's just excited about Christmas.
He's a grown man, and he still
believes in Santa Claus.
Isn't it amazing, to maintain
that childlike sense of wonder?
No, Hayley. And I'm not getting that
moron a damn thing for Christmas.
Just because you married him doesn't
make him a part of my family.
Actually, it does, Dad,
and you need to accept that.
Hayley, the only thing
I have to accept is that socially,
I can't wear mascara, even though it
makes my eyes pop like firecrackers.
Look, I've got wooden clogs
to put around the tree.
I'm starting a new Christmas
tradition.
What was wrong with our old
traditions?
Like letting homeless people smell
our napkins after Christmas dinner?
On The View, they said we could try
the Dutch custom
of putting presents in wooden clogs.
Barbara Walters said it,
and she had an affair
with a married black Senator.
So, you know, she doesn't drive
in the slow lane.
Well, I'm not gonna be able to fit
my present for Steve in a shoe.
I'm getting him his first gun
this Christmas.
It's the perfect way for us to bond.
A gun?
Can't you bond over something else?
I've tried everything else.
Darts, a ping-pong table, that puppy.
(GASPS)
The puppy!
Ah, it's probably too late.
Well, I'm sorry, but guns are too
dangerous for Steve.
Promise you won't get him one
for Christmas.
I promise I won't get Steve
a gun for Christmas.
Merry Wednesday, son.
A machine gun?
Oh, seems a bit dangerous for me.
But I guess if coked-out child
soldiers in the Congo can do it...
That's the spirit.
Hey, Mr S, I'll go shooting
with you guys, too.
Jeff, I am trying to have a
bonding experience with my son.
You are not my son.
You are no part of this family.
And when I open my eyes,
you better be gone, OK?
I don't want to see a trace of you.
Terrible.
Pardon me, sir. I'm what you
might call an advanced drinker,
and I've been having a dickens
of a time concocting an eggnog
that provides the certain...
heady tingle that I require.
Well, normally, people but Bourbon
in their eggnog.
I'm telling you, I can't get drunk!
My apologies, sir.
I had to be sure you were serious.
There is legend of a...
There is legend of a moonshiner
who lives atop the tallest peak
in the Chimdale Mountains.
They say he's blind,
standing 9ft tall,
with four arms and -
Excuse me.
Do you have seasonal beers?
You're killing his story!
Atop that mountain, a four-armed,
9ft blind man -
who also has the tongue
of a dragon -
makes the strongest whiskey
on earth.
They say that if you're crazy,
it makes you sane.
And if you're sane, you'll never
believe a word of this story.
I believe everything.
Then take this map.
It is my gift to you.
But just know that -
I'm all set with the beer.
But I've got a random question.
Do you sell watch batteries?
SLO-MO: A-a-a-r-g-h!
Get out.
Steve, shooting a gun is like
being intimate with a woman.
First, you inspect it,
to make sure it's clean.
Then you grab it on the butt
and jam the magazine in.
If it doesn't fit, make it.
Argh!
Ah! Almost shot my eye out!
Whoa. Looks like your mom was right.
This isn't safe.
Safety goggles.
Ooh, new target! Snowman! Get him!
Argh!
Oh, my God! A mall Santa!
I-I-I didn't see him.
Is he..? Dead? Were you gonna ask
if he's dead?
I was gonna ask if he's OK.
Oh, no. No, no, no. No, no.
No, he is...he is dead.
He is not OK. He will never be OK,
because he is, say it with me, dead.
You didn't say it with me.
Why did you have to give me a gun?
I'll never pull another trigger
as long as I live!
Relax, Steve. Part of gun ownership
is killing people by mistake.
What the hell do we do now? We're
gonna keep things pretty simple.
Check the guy's fingerprints
on my CIA computer,
send an anonymous note
to his next of kin,
and make sure your mother
doesn't find out.
If she knew I gave you a gun,
she'd kill me.
Or maybe she'd get you to do it, huh,
killer? Ha!
No, no, I'm kidding.
But you...you have killed someone.
Ah.
Gotta be around here somewhere.
Excuse me. Well, if it ain't
an alien in a wig.
What you say is true, sir.
And I seek a blind moonshiner
with four arms
who makes the strongest whiskey
known to man.
You found him, alien.
But you only have two arms.
And it appears you can see me
quite well.
Take a drop of this here.
I call it shine apple.
Just a touch.
(DISTORTED)
Do you believe me now?
Oh, my God! It is you!
The name's Bob Todd.
Bob Todd Williams.
Robert Todford Williams.
Bobby Todd, if you like.
Todd Willie's fine, too.
Robert Todd and Bob Todford's
all the same.
If you holler Mr Williams,
I won't know what to do with it.
I do, however, go by T-Dub
at the racetrack,
and all the ladies, well,
they call me Bert-Bert.
Bob Todd, my name is Roger.
And it would be an honour if I could
purchase your whiskey.
Purchase?
I got no use for your green money.
What the hell am I supposed to do
with it?
Go shopping in a store?
Buy a record?
Guess I'll have to go
a different route.
Ain't no need to prostrate yourself.
You want some of this whiskey,
I'll teach you how to make it.
Oh, my God, thank you! Oh, boy.
You had me in the palm of your hand
there.
About a second later, that would
have been the other way around.
OK, let's hide this guy in the
back yard while I run his prints.
Dammit!
Just be casual. Follow my lead.
Hey, Francine, you look amazing!
You look amazing, Francine.
You're so attractive. Aw.
Strange. Our mall Santa's prints
aren't in the CIA's files.
(FRANCINE GASPS)
Uh-oh.
OK, here's what happened.
I killed him! You were right, Mom,
I'm too young for a gun.
A boy shot a man today.
A boy shot a man!
Steve killed somebody?
Have you called the police?
No need to.
Me and Steve can handle it.
Stan, you've done enough. I will not
have this Christmas ruined.
Now, we're just gonna bury
that body deep in the woods,
and never talk about it again.
We don't speak of this to anyone.
I can't believe we're burying
this guy in the woods.
I can't believe you guys didn't
let me smash his teeth out
and cut off his hands.
What? You wanna get away
with this, or not?
OK, I'm gonna teach you
how to make this here whiskey
the way my pappy taught me.
Just know that my methods
are unusual.
I'm the opposite of them Jews
with the curlicue sideburns.
Wh-what do they call them
sideburn Jews?
Orthodox?
Right. I am unorthodox.
Now, take you a full swig,
and we'll get started.
# DONKEY KONG TUNE
# Bonk, bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink a-brinny, brinny
# Brinny, brinny, bonk-brinny
# Brinny, bonk-brinny
# Bonk-b... #
You did it!
You kissed the raccoon.
You're a real moonshiner now,
you son of a bitch.
Go forth and brew my ancient elixir
with these sacred jugs.
I look forward to the day we meet
again, you wise old cracker.
You are always welcome here, budro.
You are my kin.
And I will let you drive my Camaro
when I fix the got-dang drive shaft.
(HUMS A TUNE)
What the hell?
(GASPS)
(GASPS)
(GASPS)
(GASPS)
Please tell me I'm not the only one
who got a crazy letter.
I got one, too. Did someone blab
about what happened in the woods?
No!
Uh-uh!
'So it's the day before Christmas,
and many people are saying
it doesn't feel like Christmas at
all. Let's go to Terry Bates.
Sir, if I asked what month it felt
like to you, what would you say?
If I had to guess, I'd say mid
October. What is your profession?
I make calendars. With cats on 'em.
For lesbians. Ooh, lesbians are
so hard to buy for.
There you have it, there's no
feeling of holiday spirit
out here at all. It's almost as if
someone has killed Santa Claus.'
Oh, my God. Did I?
Of course not. There's no such thing
as Santa Claus, Steve.
Oh, my God. The body's gone!
READS: 'The Smiths have been naughty,
and that makes Santa not nice.'
Oh, no, it's true! I killed Santa!
Santa's not dead, you fools!
He's in the North Pole, recovering.
But he'll be back to kill you all
before the sun rises
on Christmas Day.
Fly, Mimsy!
What do we do? If that elf is right,
Santa is gonna kill us in...
less than 12 hours!
OK, look, maybe that
wasn't a real elf.
Maybe it's just some midge
playing a trick.
We all know how mischievous
little people are.
Most of 'em don't have jobs,
which gives 'em plenty of time
to think of schemes. I don't think
that was a little person, Stan.
Look at this.
Oh, my God. I can't believe I shot
the real Santa!
I can't believe there is
a real Santa.
So that year I got a vibrator from
Santa, that was really from Santa?
Dad, we have to get Jeff. He's at
the house. He could be in danger.
That's the first place
Santa will look for us.
Forget about Jeff!
It's just the four of us now.
ROGER: Make that five, numb nuts.
Roger? (SOUTHERN ACCENT)
Santa's after you, huh?
Y'all best follow me, then. I got a
spot where no-one's gonna find you.
Won't hear when I make you squeal
like a pig, neither.
What?
Nothing. Deliverance joke.
Ah. Poor Ned Beatty.
He can...he can play Rudy's dad
all he wants,
but when we look at him, all we see
is him getting rammed in the woods.
Santa's after you, huh?
Mm-hm.
I'd like to see that fat testicle
tickler come down my chimney.
Would it be OK if we hide out
in your house for a while?
Hell, yeah. It's Christmas Eve.
Shoot, let's go sing a damn song.
Come on, y'all, relax. I told you,
Santa's not gonna get you up here.
It's totally safe,
and you look fantastic.
Aaah!
You're right. Just because
we're being hunted like dogs
doesn't mean we can't have a great
Christmas. Screw Santa!
Let's have some fun.
Here we go, y'all.
Come in after the diddle-diddles.
Two, three, four!
(BELLS JINGLING)
Oh, my God, who is that?
What is he doing here?
I called him.
I wanted to spend Christmas
with my husband.
I do not want him in our band.
There's no instruments for him
to play, right, Bob Todd?
He could play the skin flute.
(LAUGHS)
Oh. Merry Christmas, all!
(BELLS JINGLING)
Dammit, Jeff, go turn off your van.
The radio's still on.
That's not my radio, Mr S.
My keys are right here.
What the hell is that noise?
(SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING)
(CHRISTMAS MUSIC)
(GASPS)
(CHRISTMAS ROCK MUSIC)
I'm coming for you, Smiths! Hee-ah!
How did he find us?
Oh, I wrote him a letter,
telling him where he could deliver
our presents.
He's trying to kill us, you moron!
You gave away our hiding spot!
Dad, stop it. He didn't know.
He doesn't know anything!
He's super dumb, Hayley. Jeff, please
leave my family alone forever!
Will you do me that kindness?
Dad!
He understood.
It's a Christmas miracle.
OK, we got a fight on our hands,
people.
I'm gonna shoot that fat turd
in the belly!
SANTA: I heard that, Bob Todd!
I hope you did, you butt licker!
Steve and I will go outside with
Bob Todd. Francine, you and Hayley
lock the door behind us and shoot
from the windows.
But, Dad, I swore I'd never touch
another gun as long as I live.
The emotional burden I've felt ever
since - Can it, Growing Pains.
Pick up a gun this instant,
and send these toy makers to hell!
Urgh! Ooh, how's that feel, Linda?
Yeah!
Argh!
You're doing it, son!
Is it weird to have a boner?
It'd be weird if you didn't!
Mom, can't you make Dad
be nicer to Jeff?
Urgh. Ooh!
Oh, honey, he'll come around
eventually.
When?
I've been with Jeff for four years.
On your right.
Oh! Argh!
I think he just has to
get used to the idea
of Jeff living in the house.
Remember how hard it was for him
to get used to Roger?
Not to mention what's-his-name.
My name is Klaus Heisler.
(ROARS)
(SQUAWKS)
Argh!
Ah!
I'm out of ammo!
Dammit. Me, too!
We need more weapons.
How about... What about these?
We can sharpen them with our mouths,
and make swords. Here.
Just suck it till it's pointy.
Wow, Hayley, brand new respect
for you.
Francine, give Hayley
your candy cane.
Shut up! I can do it.
Dad, there's too many of them!
I want to help, Mr S.
You wanna help me?
Stand here and shield me from arrows
until you die.
Jeff Fischer!
Come and fight with me.
You're a good boy. You don't
have to die with the Smiths.
I got you that polar bear
helmet from the Golden Compass
that you asked for.
Jeff, don't do this!
Let him go, Hayley.
I knew he wasn't Smith material.
Dad!
Season's Bleedings.
Sorry about this, Santa.
Aarghh!
Alex! Jeremiah!
Let me help you there, Mr S.
You guys hold 'em off.
I'll tend to Mr S in the cockpit.
(WAILING)
Even after all I said, you...
you still saved my life.
I didn't do it for you.
I did it for Hayley.
She's my wife,
and if you're important to her,
you're important to me.
Personally, I think you're an ass.
Well, how about that.
FRANCINE: There's too many of them!
Jeff, what do you say we go out
there and die...as a family?
BOTH: Ah!
(SCREAMING)
Oh, no!
Damn. We only had until
Christmas Day.
Everyone, back to the North Pole!
Retreat! Retreat!
Guess I can kiss my presents
goodbye.
SANTA: You're damn right, you jerk!
READS: 'You were lucky this year,
Smiths.
But I'll be back next Christmas
to kill you.'
Oh, my God. It looks like we found
our new Christmas tradition!
Does your family always have such
messed up Christmases?
Yeah, Jeff. And now you do, too.
This sucker tried to turn
into liquid energy on me,
but I wasn't having none of it.
Ooh, that'll make some nice venison.
Mm-hm. I'm gonna cook y'all
a hell of a meal today.
Right after me and this here
reindeer make sweet, tender love.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
ALL: Merry Christmas!
Bye. Have a beautiful time!
subtitles by Deluxe
.
# Good morning, USA
# I got a feeling that
it's gonna be a wonderful day
# The sun in the sky
has a smile on his face
# And he's signing a salute
to the American race
# Oh, boy
# It's swell to say
# Good morning, USA #
Argh!
# Good morning, USA #
Three days till Christmas.
Mr S, I have to mail my letter
to Santa.
I'm asking for an authentic
polar bear helmet
from the movie Golden Compass.
Ha-ha-hoo!
You're a golden dumbass!
Dad, be nice to Jeff.
He's just excited about Christmas.
He's a grown man, and he still
believes in Santa Claus.
Isn't it amazing, to maintain
that childlike sense of wonder?
No, Hayley. And I'm not getting that
moron a damn thing for Christmas.
Just because you married him doesn't
make him a part of my family.
Actually, it does, Dad,
and you need to accept that.
Hayley, the only thing
I have to accept is that socially,
I can't wear mascara, even though it
makes my eyes pop like firecrackers.
Look, I've got wooden clogs
to put around the tree.
I'm starting a new Christmas
tradition.
What was wrong with our old
traditions?
Like letting homeless people smell
our napkins after Christmas dinner?
On The View, they said we could try
the Dutch custom
of putting presents in wooden clogs.
Barbara Walters said it,
and she had an affair
with a married black Senator.
So, you know, she doesn't drive
in the slow lane.
Well, I'm not gonna be able to fit
my present for Steve in a shoe.
I'm getting him his first gun
this Christmas.
It's the perfect way for us to bond.
A gun?
Can't you bond over something else?
I've tried everything else.
Darts, a ping-pong table, that puppy.
(GASPS)
The puppy!
Ah, it's probably too late.
Well, I'm sorry, but guns are too
dangerous for Steve.
Promise you won't get him one
for Christmas.
I promise I won't get Steve
a gun for Christmas.
Merry Wednesday, son.
A machine gun?
Oh, seems a bit dangerous for me.
But I guess if coked-out child
soldiers in the Congo can do it...
That's the spirit.
Hey, Mr S, I'll go shooting
with you guys, too.
Jeff, I am trying to have a
bonding experience with my son.
You are not my son.
You are no part of this family.
And when I open my eyes,
you better be gone, OK?
I don't want to see a trace of you.
Terrible.
Pardon me, sir. I'm what you
might call an advanced drinker,
and I've been having a dickens
of a time concocting an eggnog
that provides the certain...
heady tingle that I require.
Well, normally, people but Bourbon
in their eggnog.
I'm telling you, I can't get drunk!
My apologies, sir.
I had to be sure you were serious.
There is legend of a...
There is legend of a moonshiner
who lives atop the tallest peak
in the Chimdale Mountains.
They say he's blind,
standing 9ft tall,
with four arms and -
Excuse me.
Do you have seasonal beers?
You're killing his story!
Atop that mountain, a four-armed,
9ft blind man -
who also has the tongue
of a dragon -
makes the strongest whiskey
on earth.
They say that if you're crazy,
it makes you sane.
And if you're sane, you'll never
believe a word of this story.
I believe everything.
Then take this map.
It is my gift to you.
But just know that -
I'm all set with the beer.
But I've got a random question.
Do you sell watch batteries?
SLO-MO: A-a-a-r-g-h!
Get out.
Steve, shooting a gun is like
being intimate with a woman.
First, you inspect it,
to make sure it's clean.
Then you grab it on the butt
and jam the magazine in.
If it doesn't fit, make it.
Argh!
Ah! Almost shot my eye out!
Whoa. Looks like your mom was right.
This isn't safe.
Safety goggles.
Ooh, new target! Snowman! Get him!
Argh!
Oh, my God! A mall Santa!
I-I-I didn't see him.
Is he..? Dead? Were you gonna ask
if he's dead?
I was gonna ask if he's OK.
Oh, no. No, no, no. No, no.
No, he is...he is dead.
He is not OK. He will never be OK,
because he is, say it with me, dead.
You didn't say it with me.
Why did you have to give me a gun?
I'll never pull another trigger
as long as I live!
Relax, Steve. Part of gun ownership
is killing people by mistake.
What the hell do we do now? We're
gonna keep things pretty simple.
Check the guy's fingerprints
on my CIA computer,
send an anonymous note
to his next of kin,
and make sure your mother
doesn't find out.
If she knew I gave you a gun,
she'd kill me.
Or maybe she'd get you to do it, huh,
killer? Ha!
No, no, I'm kidding.
But you...you have killed someone.
Ah.
Gotta be around here somewhere.
Excuse me. Well, if it ain't
an alien in a wig.
What you say is true, sir.
And I seek a blind moonshiner
with four arms
who makes the strongest whiskey
known to man.
You found him, alien.
But you only have two arms.
And it appears you can see me
quite well.
Take a drop of this here.
I call it shine apple.
Just a touch.
(DISTORTED)
Do you believe me now?
Oh, my God! It is you!
The name's Bob Todd.
Bob Todd Williams.
Robert Todford Williams.
Bobby Todd, if you like.
Todd Willie's fine, too.
Robert Todd and Bob Todford's
all the same.
If you holler Mr Williams,
I won't know what to do with it.
I do, however, go by T-Dub
at the racetrack,
and all the ladies, well,
they call me Bert-Bert.
Bob Todd, my name is Roger.
And it would be an honour if I could
purchase your whiskey.
Purchase?
I got no use for your green money.
What the hell am I supposed to do
with it?
Go shopping in a store?
Buy a record?
Guess I'll have to go
a different route.
Ain't no need to prostrate yourself.
You want some of this whiskey,
I'll teach you how to make it.
Oh, my God, thank you! Oh, boy.
You had me in the palm of your hand
there.
About a second later, that would
have been the other way around.
OK, let's hide this guy in the
back yard while I run his prints.
Dammit!
Just be casual. Follow my lead.
Hey, Francine, you look amazing!
You look amazing, Francine.
You're so attractive. Aw.
Strange. Our mall Santa's prints
aren't in the CIA's files.
(FRANCINE GASPS)
Uh-oh.
OK, here's what happened.
I killed him! You were right, Mom,
I'm too young for a gun.
A boy shot a man today.
A boy shot a man!
Steve killed somebody?
Have you called the police?
No need to.
Me and Steve can handle it.
Stan, you've done enough. I will not
have this Christmas ruined.
Now, we're just gonna bury
that body deep in the woods,
and never talk about it again.
We don't speak of this to anyone.
I can't believe we're burying
this guy in the woods.
I can't believe you guys didn't
let me smash his teeth out
and cut off his hands.
What? You wanna get away
with this, or not?
OK, I'm gonna teach you
how to make this here whiskey
the way my pappy taught me.
Just know that my methods
are unusual.
I'm the opposite of them Jews
with the curlicue sideburns.
Wh-what do they call them
sideburn Jews?
Orthodox?
Right. I am unorthodox.
Now, take you a full swig,
and we'll get started.
# DONKEY KONG TUNE
# Bonk, bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink-a-bonk
# Bink-a-bink a-brinny, brinny
# Brinny, brinny, bonk-brinny
# Brinny, bonk-brinny
# Bonk-b... #
You did it!
You kissed the raccoon.
You're a real moonshiner now,
you son of a bitch.
Go forth and brew my ancient elixir
with these sacred jugs.
I look forward to the day we meet
again, you wise old cracker.
You are always welcome here, budro.
You are my kin.
And I will let you drive my Camaro
when I fix the got-dang drive shaft.
(HUMS A TUNE)
What the hell?
(GASPS)
(GASPS)
(GASPS)
(GASPS)
Please tell me I'm not the only one
who got a crazy letter.
I got one, too. Did someone blab
about what happened in the woods?
No!
Uh-uh!
'So it's the day before Christmas,
and many people are saying
it doesn't feel like Christmas at
all. Let's go to Terry Bates.
Sir, if I asked what month it felt
like to you, what would you say?
If I had to guess, I'd say mid
October. What is your profession?
I make calendars. With cats on 'em.
For lesbians. Ooh, lesbians are
so hard to buy for.
There you have it, there's no
feeling of holiday spirit
out here at all. It's almost as if
someone has killed Santa Claus.'
Oh, my God. Did I?
Of course not. There's no such thing
as Santa Claus, Steve.
Oh, my God. The body's gone!
READS: 'The Smiths have been naughty,
and that makes Santa not nice.'
Oh, no, it's true! I killed Santa!
Santa's not dead, you fools!
He's in the North Pole, recovering.
But he'll be back to kill you all
before the sun rises
on Christmas Day.
Fly, Mimsy!
What do we do? If that elf is right,
Santa is gonna kill us in...
less than 12 hours!
OK, look, maybe that
wasn't a real elf.
Maybe it's just some midge
playing a trick.
We all know how mischievous
little people are.
Most of 'em don't have jobs,
which gives 'em plenty of time
to think of schemes. I don't think
that was a little person, Stan.
Look at this.
Oh, my God. I can't believe I shot
the real Santa!
I can't believe there is
a real Santa.
So that year I got a vibrator from
Santa, that was really from Santa?
Dad, we have to get Jeff. He's at
the house. He could be in danger.
That's the first place
Santa will look for us.
Forget about Jeff!
It's just the four of us now.
ROGER: Make that five, numb nuts.
Roger? (SOUTHERN ACCENT)
Santa's after you, huh?
Y'all best follow me, then. I got a
spot where no-one's gonna find you.
Won't hear when I make you squeal
like a pig, neither.
What?
Nothing. Deliverance joke.
Ah. Poor Ned Beatty.
He can...he can play Rudy's dad
all he wants,
but when we look at him, all we see
is him getting rammed in the woods.
Santa's after you, huh?
Mm-hm.
I'd like to see that fat testicle
tickler come down my chimney.
Would it be OK if we hide out
in your house for a while?
Hell, yeah. It's Christmas Eve.
Shoot, let's go sing a damn song.
Come on, y'all, relax. I told you,
Santa's not gonna get you up here.
It's totally safe,
and you look fantastic.
Aaah!
You're right. Just because
we're being hunted like dogs
doesn't mean we can't have a great
Christmas. Screw Santa!
Let's have some fun.
Here we go, y'all.
Come in after the diddle-diddles.
Two, three, four!
(BELLS JINGLING)
Oh, my God, who is that?
What is he doing here?
I called him.
I wanted to spend Christmas
with my husband.
I do not want him in our band.
There's no instruments for him
to play, right, Bob Todd?
He could play the skin flute.
(LAUGHS)
Oh. Merry Christmas, all!
(BELLS JINGLING)
Dammit, Jeff, go turn off your van.
The radio's still on.
That's not my radio, Mr S.
My keys are right here.
What the hell is that noise?
(SLEIGH BELLS JINGLING)
(CHRISTMAS MUSIC)
(GASPS)
(CHRISTMAS ROCK MUSIC)
I'm coming for you, Smiths! Hee-ah!
How did he find us?
Oh, I wrote him a letter,
telling him where he could deliver
our presents.
He's trying to kill us, you moron!
You gave away our hiding spot!
Dad, stop it. He didn't know.
He doesn't know anything!
He's super dumb, Hayley. Jeff, please
leave my family alone forever!
Will you do me that kindness?
Dad!
He understood.
It's a Christmas miracle.
OK, we got a fight on our hands,
people.
I'm gonna shoot that fat turd
in the belly!
SANTA: I heard that, Bob Todd!
I hope you did, you butt licker!
Steve and I will go outside with
Bob Todd. Francine, you and Hayley
lock the door behind us and shoot
from the windows.
But, Dad, I swore I'd never touch
another gun as long as I live.
The emotional burden I've felt ever
since - Can it, Growing Pains.
Pick up a gun this instant,
and send these toy makers to hell!
Urgh! Ooh, how's that feel, Linda?
Yeah!
Argh!
You're doing it, son!
Is it weird to have a boner?
It'd be weird if you didn't!
Mom, can't you make Dad
be nicer to Jeff?
Urgh. Ooh!
Oh, honey, he'll come around
eventually.
When?
I've been with Jeff for four years.
On your right.
Oh! Argh!
I think he just has to
get used to the idea
of Jeff living in the house.
Remember how hard it was for him
to get used to Roger?
Not to mention what's-his-name.
My name is Klaus Heisler.
(ROARS)
(SQUAWKS)
Argh!
Ah!
I'm out of ammo!
Dammit. Me, too!
We need more weapons.
How about... What about these?
We can sharpen them with our mouths,
and make swords. Here.
Just suck it till it's pointy.
Wow, Hayley, brand new respect
for you.
Francine, give Hayley
your candy cane.
Shut up! I can do it.
Dad, there's too many of them!
I want to help, Mr S.
You wanna help me?
Stand here and shield me from arrows
until you die.
Jeff Fischer!
Come and fight with me.
You're a good boy. You don't
have to die with the Smiths.
I got you that polar bear
helmet from the Golden Compass
that you asked for.
Jeff, don't do this!
Let him go, Hayley.
I knew he wasn't Smith material.
Dad!
Season's Bleedings.
Sorry about this, Santa.
Aarghh!
Alex! Jeremiah!
Let me help you there, Mr S.
You guys hold 'em off.
I'll tend to Mr S in the cockpit.
(WAILING)
Even after all I said, you...
you still saved my life.
I didn't do it for you.
I did it for Hayley.
She's my wife,
and if you're important to her,
you're important to me.
Personally, I think you're an ass.
Well, how about that.
FRANCINE: There's too many of them!
Jeff, what do you say we go out
there and die...as a family?
BOTH: Ah!
(SCREAMING)
Oh, no!
Damn. We only had until
Christmas Day.
Everyone, back to the North Pole!
Retreat! Retreat!
Guess I can kiss my presents
goodbye.
SANTA: You're damn right, you jerk!
READS: 'You were lucky this year,
Smiths.
But I'll be back next Christmas
to kill you.'
Oh, my God. It looks like we found
our new Christmas tradition!
Does your family always have such
messed up Christmases?
Yeah, Jeff. And now you do, too.
This sucker tried to turn
into liquid energy on me,
but I wasn't having none of it.
Ooh, that'll make some nice venison.
Mm-hm. I'm gonna cook y'all
a hell of a meal today.
Right after me and this here
reindeer make sweet, tender love.
Merry Christmas, everybody!
ALL: Merry Christmas!
Bye. Have a beautiful time!
subtitles by Deluxe
.