Yo! Whassup, you Mudcattin' mofos? It is I, Santa Cruz, in from Santa's sweatshop workshop down at the South Pole. I am in need, indeed, of something in the way of a strongly intoxicating beverage. And if you've got someplace I can wash some of this elf stench off it would be greatly appreciated. Jesus! If I'd only known how rank those little sumbitches can get I never would've taken this Santa gig. Little bastards musta never even heard of a bath. What? You actually like the smell of elf? Damn, woman, you must be outta your mind. But, hey, listen, why don't you come over here and sit in Santa's lap? Yeah, and we can talk about the first thing that pops up. Maybe Santa's got a little something special in his pouch just for you. Heh, heh, heh!