Ooh! Careful, Homer! There's no time.
- Hey, Norman, how's it goin'? So you got dragged down here too, huh? - How you doin', Fred? - Sorry.
Oh! Pardon my galoshes.
Wasn't that wonderful? And now "Santas of many lands," as presented by the entire second grade class.
Oh! Lisa's class.
That's German for " Merry Christmas.
" In Germany, Santa's servant Ruprecht gives presents to good children and whipping rods to the parents of bad ones.
I am Hotseiosha, a japanese priest who acts like Santa Claus.
I have eyes in the back ofmy head so children better behave when I'm nearby.
Now presenting Lisa Simpson as Tawanga, the Santa Claus of the South Seas.
Ooh, it's Lisa! That's ours.
Ah, the fourth grade will now favor us with a melody-- Uh, medley of holiday "flavorites.
" - Isn't Bart sweet, Homer? He sings like an angel.
The fifth grade will now favour us with a scene from Charles, uh, Dickens' A Christmas Carol.
How many grades does this school have? " Dear friends of the Simpson family, "We had some sadness and some gladness this year.
" First, the sadness.
Our little cat Snowball "was unexpectedly run over and went to kitty heaven.
"But we bought a new little cat, Snowball I.
"So I guess life goes on.
"Speaking of life going on, Grandpa's still with us, feisty as ever.
" Maggie is walking by herself, "Lisa got straight A's, and Bart-- "Well, we love Bart.
"The magic of the season has touched us all.
Marge, haven't you finished that stupid letter yet? - " Homer sends his love.
- Marge! - The Simpsons.
" - Marge, where's the extension cord? For heaven's sake, Homer.
It's in the utility drawer.
I'm just a big kid.
And I love Christmas so much.
All right, children, let me have those letters.
I'll send them to Santa's workshop at the North Pole.
There's only one fat guy that brings us presents, and his name ain't Santa.
Uh-- A pony? Oh, Lisa, you've asked for that for the last three years, and I keep telling you Santa can't fit a pony into his sleigh.
Can't you take a hint? But I really want a pony, - and I've been really good this year.
- Oh, dear.
Maybe Bart is a little more realistic.
- A tattoo? - A what? Yeah! They're cool, and they last the rest of your life.
you will not be getting a tattoo for Christmas.
If you want one, you'll have to pay for it out of your allowance.
- All right! - Homer! - "Yello.
" - Marge, please.
- Who's this? May I please speak to Marge? - This is her sister, isn't it? - Is Marge there? - Who shall I say is calling? - Marge, please.
It's your sister.
Oh! - Hello.
- Hello, Marge.
Selma and I couldn't be more excited about seeing our sister Christmas Eve.
Well, Homer and I are looking forward to your visit too.
Somehow I doubt that Homer is excited.
of all the men you could've married, I don't know why you picked one who's always so rude to us.
- Good one, Dad.
Okay, kids, prepare to be dazzled.
Marge, turn on the juice! - What do you think, kids? - Nice try, Dad.
Just hold your horses, son.
Hey, Simpson! - What is it, Flanders? - Do you think this looks okay? - Oh! - Oh, neato! It's too bright.
I oughta-- Flanders.
What a big show-off.
- Kids, wanna go Christmas shopping? - I do! - All right! The mall! - Go get your money.
Tell us, Marge.
Where have you been hiding the Christmas money? Oh, I have my secrets.
- you can look now.
- Ooh! Big jar this year.
Oh, Bart, that's so sweet.
It's the best present a mother could get, and it makes you look so dangerous.
- One " Mother," please.
Wait a minute.
How old are you? - Twenty-one, sir.
- Get in the chair.
Attention, all personnel, please keep working during the following announcement.
And now our boss and friend Mr.
I'm proud to announce that we've been able to increase safety here at the plant without increasing the cost to the consumer or affecting management payraises.
However, for you semiskilled workers, there will be no Christmas bonuses.
- Oh, and one more thing.
Merry Christmas! - Oh, thank God for the big jar.
- Where's that Bart? But, Mom, I thought you'd like it.
Simpson, we can remove your son's tattoo.
It's a simple routine involving lasers.
- Cool! - However, it is rather expensive, and we must insist on a cash payment up front.
- Cash? - Mm-hmm.
Thank God for Homer's Christmas bonus.
- Ay, caramba! - Now, whatever you do, don't squirm.
you don't wanna get this sucker near your eye or your groin.
- Ow! Quit it.
Ow! Quit it.
Ow! Quit it.
- Ow! Quit it.
- Hey, what's with this? Ow! Quit it! Used to be a real boss tattoo.
Mom had to spend the Christmas money having it surgically removed.
It's true! The jar is empty! Oh, my God! We're ruined.
Christmas is canceled.
No presents for anyone! Don't worry, Homer.
We'll just have to stretch your Christmas bonus - even further this year.
- Homer? - Oh, yeah.
My Christmas bonus.
How silly of me.
This'll be the best Christmas yet.
The best any family ever had.
I get the feeling there's something you haven't told me, Homer.
- Huh? Oh.
I love you, Marge.
- you tell me that all the time.
Oh, good, because I do love you.
I don't deserve you as much as a guy with a fat wallet and a credit card that won't set off that horrible beeping.
I think it does have something to do with your Christmas bonus.
I keep asking for it, but-- Marge, um, let me be honest with you.
- Yes? - Well, I would-- I-- I wanna do the Christmas shopping this year.
Uh, sure, okay.
Ooh, look! Pantyhose.
Practical and alluring.
Oh! Only 4.
Ooh! Pads of paper.
I bet Bart can think of a million things to do with these.
That just leaves little Maggie.
Oh, look! A little squeak toy.
It says it's for dogs, but she can't read.
Ow! Oh, Simpson, it's you.
- Hello, Flanders.
- Oh, my! What a mess we've got here.
Well, which ones are yours and which ones are mine? - Well, let's see.
- Oh, this one's mine.
This one's mine.
- This one's mine, and this-- - They're all yours! - Hey, you dropped your pork chop.
- Gimme that! - Well, happy holidays, Simpson.
- Gee, this is the best Christmas ever.
- You bet.
What's the matter, Homer? Somebody leave a lump of coal in your stocking? You've been sitting there, sucking on a beer all day long.
- So? - So, it's Christmas.
- Thanks, Moe.
Drinks all around! What's with the crazy getup, Barn? I got me a part-timejob working as a Santa down at the mall.
Wow! Can I do that? I don't know.
They're pretty selective.
Do you like children? What do you mean? All the time? Even when they're nuts? - Hmm.
- Uh, I certainly do.
Welcome aboard, Simpson.
Pending your successful completion of our training program, that is.
- What is it now, Simpson? - Uh, when do we get paid? Not a dime till Christmas Eve! Now, from the top.
Comet and Cupid.
- Donna Dixon? - Sit down, Simpson.
And what would you like, little boy? - You're not really Santa, tubby.
- Why, you little egghead! No, Homer! If such an emergency arises, you just tell them Santa's vey busy this time of year, - and you are one of his helpers.
- Oh, I knew that one too! Homer, why are you seven hours late? Not a word, Marge.
I'm heading straight for the tub.
But, Homer, my sisters are here.
- Don't you wanna say hello? - Daddy! We're so glad to see you! - Oh, Dad, you're finally home! What? Why? Oh, yeah.
- How was your trip? - Fine.
- you both look well.
- Thank you.
- Yeah, well, Merry Christmas.
- It's Christmas? - you wouldn't know it around here.
- And why is that? - For one thing, there's no tree - I was just on my way out to get one! - Can we go too, Dad? - Yeah, can we? No! Hey! What do you think you're doin'? - Uh-oh.
- Hey! Hey! - Come back here! So what do you think, kids? Beauty, isn't it? - Wow! Yay, Dad! - Way to go, Dad! - Why is there a birdhouse in it? - Uh, that's an ornament.
Do I smell gunpowder? and then I want some Robotoids.
And then I want a Goop Monster.
And then I want a great big, giant-- Aw, son, you don't need all that junk.
I'm sure you've already got something much more important-- a decent home and a loving father who would do anything for you.
Hey, I couldn't afford lunch.
Give me a bite of that donut.
Get a load of that quote-unquote Santa.
I can't believe those kids are falling for it.
Hey, Milhouse, I dare you to sit on his lap.
- I dare you to yank his beard off.
- Ah, touche.
I hope you feel better, Santa.
Oh, I will when Mrs.
Claus' sisters get outta town.
Thanks for listenin', kid.
Hey, Santa, what's shakin', man? What's your name, Bart ner? Uh, little partner? - I'm Bart Simpson.
Who are you? - I'm jolly Old St.
Oh, yeah? We'll just see about that.
- Homer! - A word with you in Santa's workshop.
- Cover for me, Elfie.
- I didn't know it was you.
It's a secret.
I didn't get my bonus this year.
But to keep the family from missing out on Christmas, - I'd do anything.
- I'll say, Dad.
you must really love us to sink so low.
Now, let's not get mushy, son.
I still have a job to do.
Hey, little ones.
Damn it to-- Ah, son, one day you're gonna know the satisfaction of payday.
Receiving a big fat check for a job well done.
Simpson, Homer? Here ya go.
Come on, son.
Let's go cash this baby and get presents for-- Thirteen bucks? Hey, wait a minute.
Less Social Security, less unemployment insurance, - less Santa training - Santa training? less costume purchase, less beard rental, less Christmas club.
- But-- But-- - See ya next year.
- Ohh! - Come on, Dad.
Let's go home.
Thirteen bucks? you can't get anything for 13 bucks.
Allright! Thirteen bigones! Springfield Downs, here I come! - What? - you heard me.
I'm goin' to the dog track.
I got a hot little puppy in the fourth race.
- Wanna come? - Sory, Barney.
I may be a total washout as a father, but I'm not gonna take my kid to a sleazy dog track on Christmas Eve.
Come on, Simpson.
The dog's name is Whirlwind.
Money in the bank.
- Ah, come on, Dad.
This can be the miracle that saves the Simpsons' Christmas.
If TV has taught me anything, it's that miracles always happen to poor kids at Christmas.
It happened to Tiny Tim, it happened to Charlie Brown, it happened to the Smurfs and it's gonna happen to us.
Well, okay, let's go.
Who's Tiny Tim? Hey, Moldy, do you think Santa will be able to find ElfCounty under all this snow? I doubt it, Bubbles.
We'll be sad little elves this Christmas.
- Oh, no! - Oh, brother.
- Where's your husband? - Yeah.
It's getting late.
Said he went caroling with Bart.
I can't believe I'm doing this.
Can we open our presents now, Dad? you know the tradition, son.
Not till the eighth race.
Hey, Barney, which one is Whirlwind? Number Six.
That's our lucky dog right over there.
He's won his last five races.
What? That scrawny little bag of bones? Come on, Dad.
They're all scrawny little bags of bones.
Yeah, you're right.
I guess Whirlwind is our only hope for a Merry Christmas.
Attention, racing fans, we have a late scratch in the fourth race.
Number 8, Sir Galahad will be replaced by Santa's Little Helper.
Once again, Sir Galahad has been replaced by Santa's Little Helper.
Bart, did you hear that? What a name! Santa's Little Helper! - It's a sign! It's an omen! - It's a coincidence, Dad.
- What are the odds on Santa's Little Helper? - Ninety-nine to one.
Wow! Ninety-nine times thirteen equals Merry Christmas! I got a bad feeling about this.
- Don't you believe in me, son? - Uh-- Come on, boy.
Sometimes your faith is all that keeps me going.
Oh, go for it, Dad.
That's my boy! Eveything on Santa's Little Helper.
It's almost 9:00.
Where's Homer anyway? It's so typical of the big doof us to spoil it all.
- What, Aunt Patty? - Oh, nothing, dear.
I'm just trashing your father.
Well, I wish you wouldn't because aside from the fact he has the same frailties as all human belings.
he's the only father I have.
Therefore, he is my model of manhood, and my estimation of him will govern the prospects of my adult relationships.
So I hope you bear in mind that any knock at him is a knock at me, and I'm far too young to defend myself against such onslaughts.
Go watch your cartoon show, dear.
Come on, Bart.
Kiss the ticket for good luck, not that we need it.
Here comes Screwy the mechanical rabbit.
- and they're off! - Come on, Santa's Little Helper! - Come on, dog! Go, man, go! It's Whirlwind in the lane, and coming up on the left is Quadruped, followed by Dog O'War and Fido.
- Go! Come on, boy! - Go! Come on, get that rabbit! Dog O'War coming up fast on the outside.
- Come on, Santa's Little Helper! - Come on, dog! Go, man, go! And with a lock on last place, it's Santa's Little Helper.
- Don't worry, Dad.
Maybe this is just for suspense before the miracle happens.
- Come on, you stupid dog! Come on! - Go, go! - Run! Run! - Run, run! Come on, get that rabbit! - Go, go, Santa's Little Helper! Run! - Go, go, go! Whirlwind by a countrymile, second, ChewMyShoe, followed by Dog O'War.
Oh, jeez! Doesn't seem possible, but I guess TV has betrayed me.
I don't wanna leave till our dog finishes.
Ah, forget it.
- Find any winners, son? - Sory, Dad.
Hey, hey, Simpson! What'dl tell you? Whirlwind! Let's go, Daria.
Beat it! Scram! Get lost! - you came in last for the last time! Look, Dad, it's Santa's Little Helper.
And don't come back! Oh, no, you don't! No, no! Get away from me! Uh-uh! Oh, can we keep him, Dad, please? But he's a loser! He's pathetic! He's-- A Simpson.
Maybe I should call the police.
- Oh, he'll sober up.
Come staggering home.
Smelling of cheap perfume.
- Homer! - What? What the-- Who the-- - Look, eveybody, - I have a confession to make.
- This should be good.
I didn't get my Christmas bonus.
I tried not to let it ruin Christmas for eveybody, but no matter what I did-- - Hey, eveybody, lookwhat we got! A dog! All right, Dad! - God bless him.
- So love at first sight is possible.
And if he runs away, he'll be easy to catch.
Oh, this is the best gift of all, Homer! - It is? - Yes.
Something to share our love and frighten prowlers.
- What's his name? - Number 8-- I mean, Santa's Little Helper.