Table Read - 12 Steps of Christmas - Act 1

Episode Date: December 12, 2023

12 STEPS OF CHRISTMAS — a filthy Christmas comedy. When a rebellious kid is denied his dream Christmas present by his mom, he goes to his estranged alcoholic father (who lies about being sober) with an idea: adapt the 12-step program to teach me how to not be you. Act 1 - When 13-year-old Jake’s fed-up mother tells him he won’t get the cell phone he absolutely NEEDS this Christmas, he goes to the only other person who ever pissed her off as much as he seems to: his estranged alcoholic father, Carl. Jake’s plea: adapt the 12-step program to teach me how to not be you. We see Carl’s life doesn’t represent the change Jake is probably hoping for. We meet Carl’s parole officer, Jordan, via voicemail as Carl navigates clear artifacts of an alcoholic life. Jake and Carl begin their mission with Step 9—but Jake’s attempts to make amends leave him battered and bloodied. Will he decide to keep going? Can this fuck-up father teach this fuck-up son how to be less of a fuck-up—all in time for Christmas? Pitch – When 13-year-old Jake’s fed-up mother tells him he won’t get the cell phone he absolutely NEEDS this Christmas, he goes to the only other person who ever pissed her off as much as he seems to: his estranged alcoholic father, Carl. Jake’s plea: adapt the 12 Step program to teach me how to not be you. Will Jake find out that Carl’s sobriety is secretly a bunch of humbug?Can this fuck-up father teach this fuck-up son how to be less of a fuck-up—all in time for Christmas? Join two of the least qualified people in the world as they stumble into lessons of empathy and personal responsibility—and believing in the motherfuckin’ spirit of Christmas.   See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. First thing that we all do together is we say table read and then we say the title of the script that we're doing. So, all in unison, give me a table read, 12 Steps of Christmas. Ready? Go. Table read, 12 Steps of Christmas. Now, hold on, I want to tell you all that you're the first cast that has done it with energy. Close you one more. Just give me a little more holiday spirit. One, two, three. Tell-A-Ree, 12 Steps of Christmas.

Excellent. Fantastic. 12 Steps of Christmas, written by Brian Allen. Act 1. Cell phone advertisement. Selfies flash on the screen. Young, stylish, always surrounded by friends, and having a time so great, they need to share it with the world.

The new MePhone 13GD with Mondo Friend Finder and Pass Perfect is your new best friend to stay connected with your friends. Hero shots of the phone confirm its social importance. We launch into testimonials. California Beach Day. Through the phone cam, Neo Hipster Girl snaps a selfie. Pass Perfect, it's the only way to be your story. The image? Boom! A filter turns into what appears to be literally a totally different person. Nearby, the

image. Dump boy took a selfie. Boom! The filter turns him into what is for sure a different, radically better person. Do you think that again it say, Dumpy Boy? I don't like Dumpy Boy. I don't know, Sean. I kind of like Dumpy Boy.

Did I say Dumpy Boy? Nearby, the image, Dumpy Boy, took a selfie. Boom. The filter turns him into what is for sure a different, radically better person. Mondo Friend Finder? I swear, the number of new friends you get just keeps growing and growing. His self-image joins others to form a pyramid on the screen. This is looking and sounding like the pyramid scheme it is.

The more kids that want to be my friend, I get all their friends too. And then their friends. And then their friends. It just keeps going. Friends. Some selfie images aren't included and drift alone pitifully. I can't imagine having a self-image outside of the friendship pyramid. Zoom in on a stray selfie's not part of pyramid.

These lost souls seem so sad and alone. Pull out and see the ad is playing on Interior, Reed Apartment, Kitchen, Morning. A laptop in front of an odd Jake Reed, 13, mixed race, tough. One of these lost souls, it seems. Jake ignores a hot breakfast while his Reed, 13, mixed race, tough. One of these lost souls, it seems. Jake ignores a hot breakfast while his mom, Ashley, 34, nursing scrubs, rushes around their low-rent row house apartment. You know, if you promise I'm getting a new GD-13 with Mondo Friend Finder and Pass Perfect,

that could be my topic for class. A solid presentation is just a shot in the arm my grades need. Ashley searches bare cupboards. On the counter, open delivery boxes with products to improve home. Christmas decorations, sheets, candles, and every cleaning product that exists. Did you eat all the soup? That's my lunch. I left the ones in the back. The dollar store three-for-ones.

She reads the label on one and almost pukes. All I know is that every other Christmas, I got my one big present. You sure about that? What do you mean? You done with breakfast? Let's go. Grab your stuff. Jake gathers his things, including headphones. You got me these beats last year. Ha! You think I bought beats?

Sorry, Dre. Ugandan knockoff. Interestingly, sold to me by a lady from Papua New Guinea. Downtown? The lady with the rug? Yep, the lady with the rug. Hurry up, we're already late. I gotta get back. Jake ignores her, stops to pull his bike off a big pile of clutter under the stairs. What about my bike? Your cousin Jane.

Pink until we spray painted it Christmas Eve. No way. Ashley has the door open, but Jake dives back into the mess. I can't tell you how much I love dragging you to school on my break. Jake holds up a large Legos box. What about my Legos? You mean logos. Yugoslavian.

You never noticed the blocks only come in those drab browns and greens? The only color was in the propaganda posters. Close on, the box shows a Legos-like set of communist era concrete factory with propaganda posters above the workers.

Uncle Tito's self-managed metallurgy factory. I guess the pieces never did really fit together. Ashley futilely gestures out the door as Jake digs deeper. Technically, they even call this my meal break. Because nothing warms the palate for discount

soup like patients oozing from all sorts of surprising places for eight hours. Still, I'd like a chance to eat. Ew, gross'd like a chance to eat. Ew, gross. Ashley smiles with a plan. She starts sneaking up on Jake. Yeah, I didn't even have time to change scrubs.

Jake doesn't notice her. He's focused on the unholy tickle-me-Elmo knockoff he holds. I always knew something was off with Zelmo. Jake squeezes the deranged plush doll to prove his point. Hey, kid, stop with the tickling. What? Tickle me, Zelmo is totally real. Jake jumps back, surprised. Ah, what the hell? What? I just want a hug.

Jake uses Zelmo to shield Ashley and her nasty scrubs. This one on my shoulder? Do you know what a perforated bowel is? Ew. Jake uses Zelmo to shield Ashley and her nasty scrubs. This one on my shoulder? Do you know what a perforated bowel is? Oh, and this here? Know what this one is? We don't. All I can tell you is that a lot of it was coming from poor Miss Yount.

What do you think? Ew, stop. Okay, I'll go. Ashley lunges. Jake tosses Zelmo at her and uses the chance to escape out the door. He gives Zelmo a final squeeze. Close on. Zelmo shakes with pained laughter and coughing fit.

Joy to the world. Your guy is born. Mazel tov. Now go tickle yourself, you pervert. Exterior read apartment day. This small New England city is covered with snow. Jake uses his forearm to brush off the windshield of their Ford Fiesta hatchback while Ashley works the ice scraper. What's with all the black?

We see Jake is dressed entirely in black. There's a big basketball game. We're all supposed to wear the same color. It's a school pride thing. Next door, neighbors Mary and Chris call in unison. Hey, neighbors. Merry Christmas. With their three daughters, they are the perfect Protestant family.

In front of a nativity scene, they wear matching food drive shirts and low donation bins into their SUV. Gearing up for the food drive? The pep rally is always huge. Even if each kid only remembers one can, that's 900 from Jake's school alone. Ashley gives Jake an ugly look for not mentioning any of this. Right. Yeah, of course. Well, it's not much, but I'll pop your charity cherry. What does that mean?

You got cherries? I love cherries. Ashley can't believe what she said. Daughter number two grabs the can. It's not cherries, it's soup. South Delaware pork chowder. Yuck. Ashley smiles awkwardly at Mary. Jake laughs to himself. Interior Ford Fiesta hatchback day.

You can see their breath as they get in. Just pork? That's a little vague. What kind of pork do you think? Delaware pork. And none of that North Delaware bullshit either. Interior Ford Fiesta hatchback. Moving later. Ashley drives silently until seemingly out of nowhere...

I wish you mentioned the food drive. I look like a horrible mother. And person. I forgot. You know they actually built that thing in their yard? Like, with wood and paint and everything. How do you compete with that? What are you talking about?

The neighbors. The, um... You know, like, when Jesus was born, I forget the name, the, the, the Jesus farm thing. Wow, mom, like organically grown Jesuses, little heads of Christ cabbage. Pretty sure you mean the manger. Don't we just call those barns now, or is it something different? Point is, they made it. We need a Jesus somewhere for my mom to see. You're way too stressed out about Grandma coming over. She's not going to notice stuff like that.

Trust me, ever since I was little, my mother's been very good at noticing things. Shall I add it to the list, then? Sure. Order one baby Jesus Christ, our farm-fresh Lord and Savior. Jake reads down the rest of the list. This is a lot of fancy crap you're buying. Nebulizing diffuser with Bluetooth? Whatever a demi-task spoons are.

Okay. Ultra-plush toilet paper with aloe and vitamin E? Really? TP vitamins? Ashley turns into the school parking circle and begins battling for position. Why don't we do Christmas at Grandma's like always? Ashley is hurt, becomes defensive. I think he can be just as good at our house.

Don't you? Jake nods, feigning confidence. Exterior, Spiro Tiagnew Middle School, day. Ashley slams on the brakes, inches short of hitting Ryan the Rhino, the high-energy baby blue school mascot. The hell is that? Ryan continues dancing as if nothing happened. That's Ryan the rhino. We used to be the Redskins, but we had to change it.

They wanted the new one to be an endangered species. And so, Ryan the white rhino. But he's a blue rhino. Turns out him being white was also oppressive, but in like the opposite way. Turns out him being white was also oppressive, but in like the opposite way. Oh. Why is a rhino dancing around to a song about dogs? Isn't that speciesist? On game days, he comes around to every class. You have no idea how pumped up people get.

It makes me want to puke. Ashley looks at students socializing outside the two-story brick school. They all wear the school color, baby blue. Everyone's in blue. A school pride thing? What? Lack of school pride is a form of school pride. Interior Spiro T. Agnew Middle School Classroom, day. Jake sits in the back wearing black and a sea of pastel school spirit.

Presentations are underway. On the whiteboard, what are you celebrating this holiday season? Sophia, 13, 2peppy, presents. I'm celebrating Spiro T. Agnew Middle School, where I get to spend all day with all of my friends. Her friends in class beam. I'm celebrating today's pep rally for Ryan, our beloved Rhino, and for our basketball team. A few jersey-wearing basketball players beam. And I'm especially celebrating life management skills with Mr. Bucket,

because you help us manage school and life and stuff. Mr. Bucket, 40, red-faced, bucket-like, beans. Jake plays the game Snake on his old Nokia under his desk. Chad, basketball player, a dick. And Mia, cute, also a dick, are laughing at Jake. To them, it looks like he's jerking off.

I swear, look, he's jerking off. Do you think that he can... Well, let me do that. That was expensive. I got one line right here. It's way too expensive. We were in 20 minutes for that, son.

I was trying to clear my throat. Let's pick it up for Mia's line, please. I swear. Look, he's jerking off. Do you think that he can even watch porn on that thing? Porn? I don't need porn. Yeah, you caught me.

I am fapping. Now, can you please lean back again? That's the angle that got me going. They have zero idea how to respond. You're so freaking gross. Mr. Bucket notices the disturbance. Is there a problem back there? Yes.

These two aren't being very sex positive for one. I'm feeling very shamed. Then why don't you come up front where you'll be safe? Jake reluctantly heads to the front. Okay, Jake, you're always so good at telling us what you don't like. Can you think of one thing you'd do? Well, Sophia pretty much covered it, right? It's all worth so much appreciation. Yay, all of it. Jake doesn't know

what to say. He's vulnerable and exposed. Suddenly, a song Suddenly, Who Let the Dogs Out? announces Ryan as he jock jam dances into the classroom. You gotta be effing kidding me. Jake tries to use the moment to flee, but Ryan molests him with a pumped up

mascot dance. Come on, Jake. Where's your spirit? Kids laugh as Ryan playfully charges Jake with his horn. Jake decides to engage. Okay. Personally, I want to celebrate Ryan the Rhino here. Because unlike our basketball team, he isn't too white to be great. Jake knocks Ryan back with a hard elbow to the chest. I want to celebrate spending all day with all of you, my friends.

Especially Mia. You think I'm gross? You're so freaking gross that when you masturbate, it's non-consensual. No more dancing. The mood has changed. And I for sure want to celebrate life management skills with Mr. Bucket. To your credit, you do get us to study. Because holy fuck ending up like you

scares the shit out of us. Ryan shoves Jake and turns off the boombox. The jukebox. Old school. Ryan shoves Jake and turns off the boombox. It could end here, but when Jake looks around, he doesn't see one kind face.

They all record with their nice cell phones, so Jake snaps and rushes Ryan. Rhinoceros are surprisingly agile fighters with thick protective skin. Jake is caught by its mighty horn, but then he lands an uppercut under the mask, and that ends it. Ryan falls back, the mascot head falling off as he hits the floor, revealing Erika Cross, 14, stout. A girl. By the time Jake has processed that he just hit a girl, Chad is already helping her up. Jake can't believe what he did. Interior, Principal McGriff's office, day. Jake sits across the large desk of Principal McGriff.

30s. You have an attitude problem. I see it in kids every day, but they don't follow through things like you do. That sounds like a positive thing, though. I follow through. You're one of the smartest kids in your class, but you fight, you swear, you don't seem to care about anything at all. Jake likes that list. You seem to be at war with everything and everybody all the time. Isn't that exhausting?

This one hits, Jake. But he plays tough. No, I don't care. It doesn't sound tough. No, I don't care. We've already tried suspending you. Maybe it's time we look at changing your environment. Like expelled? No way. My mom would freak. Jake anxiously watches Principal McGriff decide

his verdict. For now, we'll say you're suspended until break. That's a couple of days to cool off. I can be good, I swear. I'm not sure you can. Jake takes this in. Get control of yourself. Any more of this and we'll have to look at more extreme measures. This is your final warning. Principal

McGriff picks up the phone and dials. Interior, read apartment, living room day. Ashley storms in with Jake following. It's not fair. Kids make fun of me and clam up. They react to your reactions. You react to that. You have the mentality of a little. I'm just supposed to take it. Life has bullies, Jake, and disappointments. God knows. Get used to it. Jake feels guilty. By the way, leaving work to pick you up from suspension does not help you get some super expensive phone. That's not looking great right now. Jake is selfishly alarmed, and he begins to play an angle. I'm sorry. Honest. I'm sorry, Mom.

Ashley needed this, not sensing Jake's intent. You really think I can pull this off? Jake walks over, seeing behind her that the place is a wreck. Don't worry. We'll get everything super nice. I can help out. We can totally show this place off. But why don't we give ourselves a bit more time? Something more realistic like Easter. Or even just New Year's.

We can start a whole new tradition. What? Oh, I get it. As long as nothing messes with Christmas at Grandma's. Or your one big present, right? Jake is caught, and they both know it. Unbelievable. Jake, if we can't even have each other's backs...

Well, who cares where we have it? Ashley does. Very much. Not for nothing? Now that it's just you and me here, I thought we could host for once. Jake walks over to the boxes of stuff Ashley ordered. Why spend so much money on this fancy stuff? Plus, then being all bitchy with me like any of this is my fault. Ashley doesn't know how to respond.

She checks the time. Now I'm supposed to be a bad mother because I need to get back to work. Maybe this is all my fault. I'm not around enough or patient enough or something. Crazy bullshit like this doesn't happen with other moms. Only me, man. I know I never had fights like this with my mother. Exactly.

You're doing all this stuff to make our place as good as grandma's. Why pretend? This hits Ashleyley hard it's perfect there ashley is at a loss then is struck by something christ feels like i'm fighting with your father at least the court could force him to change with a.a i don't know what to do with you at this rate you're never getting a fancy smartphone. Ashley walks away, and moments later, a door slams. An old ceramic Santa statue falls off the mantle and breaks. Santa's rosy-cheeked smile is shattered into pieces. Jake bolts. Exterior. Redepartment. Day.

Jake flies out the door and takes off. Exterior. Town. Streets. Day. Jake flies out the door and takes off. Exterior town streets. Day. Running down a street lined with row houses, cutting across front yards and baseball fields until a red light stops him at a crosswalk with other pedestrians. He can't stand waiting. He tries to clear brown slush but falls short and splashes everywhere. No time to apologize. He dodges traffic, continues his sprint. Exterior town square day. The whole town is beautifully decked out for Christmas. Lights hang on small trees. Christmas music plays in the air. Shoppers and cars create the usual holiday hustle and bustle.

Jake butts in and out of the excitement until... Exterior Mall Day. He finally arrives at his destination, the mall. Interior Mall. Line for Santa Day. Underneath a frumpy elf costume, Parle, 38, puts the fun in Functional Alcohol alcoholic. Keeps overexcited kids under control. You can tell Carl loves Christmas, but all that good cheer snaps sour when he sees a disturbance in line. In line, two bullies, kids too cool for Santa, cut in front of excited younger kids, Kids too cool for Santa.

Cut in front of excited younger kids. Full of Christmas spirit. Cutter! Hey, no cuts! They turn and tower over the terrified protester. What did you say? I, um, I, I just... A voice from behind. Hey you, tiny townies! Carl is one righteously pissed elf.

As the bullies turn, Carl digs into his pocket and pulls out a soiled bar napkin. See this? You know what this is? This is the naughty list. Do you know what happens when you do bad shit? Bad shit equals bad results. That's not real. It's all dirty. Of course it's dirty. It's the naughty list, for Christ's sake. Logic checks out. Can't deny it. Carl checks the list. And you ain't getting shit, loser.

You're not Santa. You're an elf. You don't know. Yeah, I'm a fucking elf. The head elf. I report directly to Santa. I handle everything from his gambling debts to suppressing talk of unions. This list tells me

all sorts of things. I can even tell the future. You know what it says about you? It says you're peaking. Look around you. What are you, like seven, eight? This is as good as it gets for you, kid. You smell funny. So do you. We all smell funny. Maybe you think some toy can make you forget the stench of your failed little life.

I want a Y-flanker scooter. But it can't. No toy can do the trick. Look, you're in the caterpillar stage. Soon you'll spin a cocoon out of your own bullshit and your fear of anyone with purpose until you emerge a beautiful, fully formed townie. Nearby, Jake isn't sure what to think, but he's definitely amused. In line, Carl continues to lay into bully number one. A classic townie.

You'll know the exact price of gas all over town, even though you can't drive because you rolled your mom's Ford Escort and got your third DUI. You'll get out of hand at all the JV football games, even though you don't have a kid in the game. This could be the end of it, but Carl takes it too far. Twice as bad for you. Pretty soon you'll figure out the reason you look like a water buffalo is because mommy liked off-brand schnapps more than she liked being pregnant with you. Bully number two begins to cry. Oh, God.

Come on, man. Come on, man. Angel 20's Mexican mall Santa pulls Carl away. He has a thick accent and is difficult to understand. Hey, come on, bro. Shift over. Hey, calmate mi elfo. Hey, what we talk about, bro? Hey, feliz navidad.

Merry Christmas, kids. Ho, ho, ho. Hey, hold that stop. Well, children, it's Santa Claus. Ay, ay, ay. Angel Claus. Aye, aye, aye. Angel leads Carl towards a nearby hallway. Hey, don't say that. Kids think you're racist. I'm not racist. Santa is the racist.

All the fine, fine gifts for all the well-scrubbed, lily-white children of Connecticut. Now compare that to, what, Paco, a village boy in western Bolivia, what he will be opening up Christmas morning? Remember what we talked about? You're P.O., man. You can't get fire again. Don't fuck up. Jake hurries to follow Carl into...

hallway to bathrooms. Jake watches an exhausted Carl take off his green jacket and elf hat, then kick off his elf shoes. He takes a big squig from a bottle of soda as he leans against the wall. Hey there, Santa's overgrown little helper. Sorry, kid. This elf is off his merry clock. Carl turns and sees his son, Jake.

Holy shit, Jake! Carl rushes over and hugs him. Jake is not super huggy. They talk past each other, Jake launching into his problem, and Carl confused but happy to see his kid. Look at you, you're looking damn good, man. It's been a whole year. Stop, just listen to me. Well, your balls are falling?

You get hard in class? Chafing too much from too much? Jesus, it's nothing to do with my dick. I just figured it's got to be something your mom can't help with. Listen to me. I'm not going to get what I want for Christmas. You know I'm not really an elf, right? And this whole Santa song and dance, it's truthfully... No, no. I need your help. I need mom to like me so I can get what I want this year. Teach me how I can make her happy.

I'm probably the worst pick for that one. Exactly. I need you to teach me how to not be you. This hits Carl. Wow. I'm flattered you want my help, but it's for literally the most insulting reason possible. We're fighting really bad. Everyone fights with their mom. How bad can it be? It's like you guys used to. Carl knows how bad that is.

I'm sort of afraid I can't change, but you were able to. Mom said so. Ashley's opinion of him is big news to Carl. She said that? Yeah, that you're way different now because of that 12-step thing, right? Carl confirms with a small, uncertain nod. Teach me. Switch drinking with whatever I do that pisses off mom. If it works for you, then it could work for me. We can't even be seen together. My PO would flip. It was part of the whole divorce shebang. We can sneak. We have less than a week. Can you help me or not?

The 12 steps aren't really designed for kids. Do you even care that I might not get my me phone? Do you care about me? Or are you the same as before? Carl looks at his son's pleading face. Of course I care. I can help. You said it.

I'm a changed man. Jake lights up and smiles at an unsure Carl. Interior, read apartment living room morning. Ashley folds a mountain of laundry. Behind her, Jake puts on his coat and heads to the door. Mom? Do you not understand how this whole being grounded thing works? I do. I just...

I really want to help with the food drive. I figure I have all this extra time now. Ashley is surprised, then considers. Jake displays the can of soup in his hand. Okay. I'll be at work when you get back. You'll need to handle dinner on your own. Maybe be on the lookout for something tasty

in the collection bin. You're needy too, you know. Thanks, Mom. Jake smiles and heads out. Interior, Carl's apartment, bedroom, day. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

by Bing Crosby plays as camera navigates artifacts of an alcoholic's life. Discarded shirts on their third round of booze sweat. Confusing trash. One elf shoe. Empty bottles of Seagram's Seven Whiskey. Camera finds the music we hear is Carl's phone alarm,

which he's ignoring. He sleeps in the wrong direction on a stained mattress, wearing boxers and one remaining elf shoe. The cell rings. He closes one eye to read, Blocked number. Fuck. I think I know this blocked number.

He turns over and ignores it until, Ding! Voicemail alert. He curses to himself and plays it on speaker. Carl, missing a meeting with your parole officer is a very bad thing. Why? Because I'm judge, jury, and rival prison guard who can let fellas take turns on you. Carl sits up, looks around at his life, and sighs.

It also means extra work for me. I hate that. Puts me in a mood. Carl gets on his feet. Bathroom. Toiletries and laundry are everywhere. A counter is covered with loose change, gum, lighters, and bits of garbage. Carl inspects his face in the mirror. He tests from different angles, but there is no hiding his wrecked appearance. Lucky for us, for me anyway,

you're so consistent in missing your performance markers, I don't feel the need to come out. Kitchen. Carl discovers a half-eaten breakfast sandwich in a Dunkin' Donuts wrapper. He brushes it off before taking a bite. Hey, it is breakfast. Let's go down our list here. Number one, general upkeep. I envision a new layer of clutter on top of the old one. I could count them like rings on a tree to date

the last time you tidied up. Looking around, Carl must concede. Jordan nailed it. Exterior, Carl's apartment, day. Jake puts down his bike and knocks on the door. Interior, Carl's apartment, kitchen, day. Carl finds a glass of whiskey, coke, and inspects it against the light. He grabs a coffee mug and pours the drink back and forth between the two cups like a science experiment. Number two, AA meetings. Ben Denny? I actually miss hearing you

lie. It allows me to pretend you take this seriously. Carl drinks from the mug, grimaces at the taste. Three, job search. I have a job, thank you. A budding career as a mall Santa's lackey isn't what I'm looking for. Exterior, Carl's apartment, day. Jake fogs the window as he cups his hands and peeks inside. Interior, Carl's apartment, living room, day. Carl collapses onto the couch.

Fourth, and most importantly, new offenses. None. Not one? Proud of that, are we? Until I met you, I didn't know a person could be so smug and defeat. Carl drinks. Hell, what's the point?

Even if you tried to be less of a fuck-up, you probably just fucked that up too. Loud, angry knocks startle Carl. Avrò un certo langorino Ovviamente no panino No no no Un boccone ricco di gusto Si conosco il posto giusto Siamo d'accordo su su via.

Tutti alla piadineria. È tornata la solare con crudo e stracciatella. Aggiungi salsa mango, aglio nero o peperone. Amerai ogni boccone. La piadineria, la più buona che ci sia. Exterior, Carl's apartment day. Jake waits. Carl opens the door, still in the middle of putting on one of those dirty t-shirts from the floor.

Jake can only conclude, You forgot! What? Don't always assume the worst. That's crazy. Boy, you do need help. We should get started right away. Come in. Jake walks in, pissed off. Interior, Carl's apartment, living room, continuous. Carl scrambles to hide signs of drinking.

He notices the soup. You brought lunch? Mom thinks I'm helping with the canned food drive. Okay, well, here. They do donations at the mall. Okay, good. I felt bad about that part. Sorry it's a tad messy.

Got a bit of a late start, but I got my coffee here and ready to roll. This is the new you? You sure you can help me? I'm just looking. Found it! Carl triumphantly holds up a red notebook. My old AA notebook. Look, underneath all the real 12 steps, I wrote a modified one just for us.

You're not hooked on Hooch. You just got to be a better kid. Indeed. Beneath the actual 12 steps, Carl wrote his own. Okay, hit me. What's step one? Step one might be too hard for you right now. That's okay.

We can skip around. Why not? We make the rules. You can do that? Which brings me to step three. Remembering the shitty job you did on your own, surrender some control and give yourself over to a higher power. That's me.

You don't strike me as a higher power. Have some faith. I've been through all this before. Carl puts on parts of the elf costume. It's actually substantial garb. Nice 25 years and 100 mall workers ago. Gotta say, that elf cosplay is alarming. Disguise. That legal business is no joke.

They'll have me spending Christmas in jail. He adds a Santa hat and beard. Fl flashes a Santa-like Aang sign. Ho, to the third power. Ready to obey your higher elf? Carl throws on big mirrored aviators to finish his disguise. Exterior town square day. Jake walks while Carl rides the too small bike. Looking good, but watch out. My front wheel is busted.

The warped front wheel struggles over the snow and slush. Why no car anyway? Such a hypocrisy. A successful person rides a bike they're called progressive or bicycle enthusiast, but when I do it, it's just called too many DUIs. Jake sees swatches of original pink under bike's paint. It's time for you to make

some amends. Repair your harm with responsibility and love, baby. It'll cover steps eight and nine. Amends for what? Start small, my disciple. What made your mother so upset? Jake doesn't want to say, but on carl's shitty

cell screen jake plays social media posts of the classroom incident picking up after we left off and let's not forget mrs bucket that community treasure some old guys outside the vfw said she can suck patriotism off a flag that That cockeyed substitute told our English teacher that... Not bad. Let me try it one more time. I got a little too excited there. Hold on. Oh, my God. Wherever you want to start, bro. And let's not forget Mrs. Bucket.

That community treasure, some old guys outside the VFW, said she can suck patriotism off a flag. That cockeyed substitute told our English class she can suck the meaning off a word. A disgraced zookeeper went into great detail. The video cuts off. You kids know about Mrs. B? Man, she used to suck off regulars at Bing's Bola Rama with commitment, like it was noble, like it would help us win

the war. Lord knows that woman never pays. But yeah, your incident was pretty ripe for some amends. Jake mounts the back pegs of the bike and they take off. Exterior, JoJo's Hen House Family Eatery. Parking lot,

day. Carl walks ahead of a tentative jake how do you know this erica is in there anyway her snapchat story so that's why you want a phone so you can join your friends as a social media zombie no definitely not i don't care about friends carl starts joking around with with Jake to loosen him up. Snapchat, huh? That's the porn one? Seriously? No. So that's it then? You can tell me you want to send out your digital dick? What? No.

They arrive. Carl opens the door for Jake. Interior JoJo's Hen House Family Eatery Day. As they enter, Carl doesn't see teen hostess Zara nearby. I wish we had dick pics when I was younger. All we could do is take a Polaroid, send it in the mail, like with a stamp, you know. It didn't just show cock and balls, it showed heart. It was much more personal, but also much more intrusive for the same reason. Carl finally notices his hostess, Zara, who heard everything. And nearby family with young children are also scandalized. Oh, so the lesson is don't show your penis to a lady unless you're super sure, like positive Like, get a notary involved, right?

Because otherwise, hashtag her. What's wrong with you? What kind of sick freak dresses up like some elf-Santa hybrid and talks about cock at a family eater? Ooh, hey, keep it kid-appropriate. Watch the Santa talk. And before you offer, we don't need a table. Thank you. Jake wants out, but Carl nudges him.

I actually just need to talk to Erica real fast. Erica cross. Zara stares Carl down. Employees can't have visitors while on duty. Sorry, Elf Santa. You think you can lord over this place because you're better than us? Maybe I am an elf. And that means I know shit about you.

Because you're better than us. Maybe I am an elf. And that means I know shit about you. Like how the relationship with your husband, Pillow, has taken a romantic turn. I read all about it on my list. Checked it twice, then six times. Since then, girl, it's a pretty hot read if you catch my drift. We'll see who's tough once Mark gets here.

Zara storms off to the back. Remember, it doesn't matter what someone else did. You're fixing what you did. You see her? Jake scans the place. None of the waitresses are Erica. Then he zeroes in on Jojo, the hen mascot. Got her.

Speaking of cosplay, she must have a mascot complex or something. Go now. Hurry. Jake hurries across the restaurant to back tables. Jake approaches, then stops before the great bird. Jojo is stumped, but then does a dance for Jake. Damn it, Erica. Stop dancing for a second. Or actually, keep it up, because you see, I realized that mascots are important. I'm sorry I had a problem with Ryan the Rhino. JoJo opens her bird wings noncommittally. I mean it.

Mascots remind us when to cheer, and it must be really hot in there. And you answer the age-old question, who let the dogs out? A rhino did. That's actually really clever. Jake spots Zara emerge with teen manager Mark, 19, can almost grow the badass teen facial hair he's going for. I'm legit sorry I punched you. Please accept my apology.

Jake waits for a response as JoJo scratches her head before he sees Erica clearing the table next to him. Oh. Hi, Erica. You know this fruity kid? Post this stand. Carl gets into it with Mark. Even if Santa Elves were real and you were one,

I'd still fuck you up, son. Zara is so impressed. What? You're going to attack me while sugar plums dance in my head? Uh-uh. Nah. You know what I'm gonna do? I'm gonna find out where you

live, and I'm gonna go to your mom's room, and I'm going to love her tenderly and well. I'm gonna show her her tenderly and well. I'm going to show her a gentle, reciprocative love she stopped dreaming of years before you crawled out. This was a showstopper. They don't know how to respond.

You could have just been reasonable. But now, this guy's going to spend Christmas deciding if his hot piece Mother's Glow is from holiday cheer or from this elf's special delivery. Back tables. Fiery hatred in Erica's eyes as she steps toward Jake. This is the violent little patriarch I told you about. The enraged hen puffs out its magnificent chest as it advances on Jake, looking like it might peck him to death. I didn't mean to. Don't victim blame me.

Listen, it was a mistake. I... Don't mansplain the JoJo. Jake doesn't know what to do. He looks up front and sees Carl feuding with Zara and Mark. When Jake turns back around... Erica slams him in the face with a server's tray. That sucks! I swear I don't hit girls! Don't

give me that gender binary crap! Holding his bloody nose, Jake staggers away. Exterior, JoJo's henhouse family eatery, parking lot day. Jake comes out fuming, Carl's following behind. Making amends sucks. Man, fuck all those people. Why even try? God.

Carl sits on the curb. He packs a snowball and offers it. Not exactly in the mood. No, it's for your face. Jake holds it against his face and he calms some. You don't get it my school is full of assholes of course it is some people totally deserve bad shit that's what school's good for

not to teach you about logarithms or teapot domes or the righteous men of the whiskey rebellion it's there to prepare you for a world of assholes that doesn't seem right come here, sit down let's look around It's there to prepare you for a world of assholes. That doesn't seem right. Come here. Sit down. Let's look around.

Jake joins Carl on the curb as they scan their surroundings. Carl points at an adorable family walking down the sidewalk. That adorable family? They're probably assholes. Mom cheats on Dad, but it ain't her fault, because, I don't know, he can only get off to some very specific type of Vietnamese porn or something. And they both know their daughter's real father is one of a dozen potential men, none of whom she currently calls Dad.

Jake points at an innocent old man shambling along. What about him? That guy? He's an asshole, too. I'm sure of it. He's just an innocent old man shambling along. What about him? That guy? He's an asshole too, I'm sure of it. He's just an innocent old man. Knowing that old isn't very racist. And weirdly specific racism, like distrust of those thieving Danes or something. The old man gives them a polite wave, shuffles on harmlessly. Hell, being angry can even be fun if someone deserves it,

but then you spend your whole day judging people. It's a trap. Jake understands this deeply. He throws the snowball. Life can be shitty, but you're way too young to believe it's not gonna be okay. Two down. Cross them out.

Jake crosses off eight and nine. He can't help feeling proud. End act one. You guys, that was fucking fantastic. That was so amazing. Party break.