Table Read - 12 Steps of Christmas - Act 2

Episode Date: December 19, 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 2 - Continuing... Jake’s “rehab” with an amended 12-step list, Carl drags his son to a Mexican A.A. meeting. Unexpected revelations lead to a reckoning and new goals for each: Carl drink-y no mas and Jake giving his mom Ashley “one nice day.” When Jake’s next Step, “Believe in the motherfuckin’ Spirit of Christmas,” instead leads to the destruction of trust, reputation, and public property, Jake finds himself fighting with both parents—and on the run. 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.

Act 2. Long line, 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 not to be you. In Act 1, we learn Jake is afraid he can't change. We also learn that his father, Carl Sobriety, is the non-existent kind that features a handle of that sweet, sweet daily hooch. Adapting the 12 steps from a recovery he did not achieve and from a program he did not complete, From a program he did not complete, Carl uses negative credentials to create an adapted Christmas-themed list to help Jake reform his own aggressive behaviors. We ended with Jake being humiliated and beaten by a giant hen, yet somehow also completing step two and three. Can Jake complete more? Can he somehow learn something from such a fuck-up father? We're uncertain.

So text your sponsor and fill a cup with two perfect ice cubes and Canadian rye. Watch how it swirls differently against the cubes, colliding ever so slightly. Oh, God. Add more to taste or tolerance. Mmm. Oh, yeah, mama. That's the stuff. And join me and us for Act Two,

as two of the least qualified people in the world try to stumble into lessons of empathy and personal responsibility. Interior Redepartment bathroom. Day. Jake inspects his black eye and smashed nose in the mirror. He checks it from different angles. There's no hiding this thing. Kitchen. Jake goes through the mail. He opens an envelope

and smiles at the picture on the card. The perfect inviting Christmas home. He fist pumps when a check falls out. Moments later, Jake gazes at the picture of the house, phone to ear. Just wanted to say thanks for the money and everything. So, thanks. Intercut with interior department store night. Grandma, 60s, a woman who can be described as handsome, pushes her cart down an aisle of holiday decorations. Well, I hope you get yourself something nice you want. Grandma reaches for a figure of adolescent Jesus in his often ignored awkward teenage years. But a stressed mom, 35, grabs the last one while her screaming child, 4, has a tantrum.

How are you? Is your mother there? Take a wild guess. She's at work. Your mother. Honestly, I don't know what to do. I pray to the Lord for you both every night. Grandma sees Mom distracted and swipes Jesus from her cart.

I'm always here. Okay? I know. I think I hear the door. I gotta go. Thanks. Love you. Close on, awkward adolescent Jesus lands in grandma's cart. Interior, redepartment, kitchen, day. Ashley enters, home from work. Hi, sweetie. Ooh, mail.

Anything for me besides pre-approved credit they won't approve? Ashley sees Jake in the fridge, seemingly ignoring her. Not even a hello? I'm the one who should still be mad here. Not you. I just never took the time to read and appreciate this stuff. Did you know this cran-raspberry-flavored juice cocktail is a refreshing way to get the nutrients you need for an active lifestyle? You won't even look at me? Jake emerges, but hides his face behind a jug of juice. We have 5% juice from concentrate

for optimum taste and vibrant color. Water in high fructose corn syrup? Two faves. Bottled in Battle Creek, Michigan. Stop acting like this. Talk to me. Ashley lowers the juice, exposing Jake's beat-up face. Jesus! What happened to your face?

There were these really big hands. Like, heavy ones. Way up on a shelf. They fell on you? I volunteered to get them down. And, yeah. Damn! You're really getting into volunteering. Let me get some ice.

Ashley opens the freezer. The lie worked, but Jake feels bad. Interior Carl's apartment, living room day. Carl watches from the couch as his parole officer, Jordan, 50s, dour, wears heavy overcoat, studies three small, plush Christmas elves on the windowsill. These elves look demented.

The wife and kid gave me one every year. Sort of lost the others. Yeah, that figures. This would be my first Christmas without my wife, you know. Same here. I know that. Difference is,

I don't see mine because of some unpronounceable cancer. You don't see yours because you're a continual fuck-up. You, Carl, are your own cancer. Jordan clicks his pen and makes notes next to a checklist. Let's see who's been naughty or nice. So, you're all alone this year? Nah. I got family in.

Nieces, nephews, whatever. That's good. No. They insisted. I'm being suffocated by the goddamn Christmas spirit. I've been worried about you, man, since your wife.

You haven't been your normal, buoyant self. You've known me to be buoyant no no always very grave but differently so jordan looks up from his report you don't need a list to see how bad this place is you just need eyes jordan is knocked back by something he smells. And a nose. What the hell's that smell? Is it better if I know what it is or don't know what it is? Look around.

Would you treat someone you care about as badly as you treat yourself? Carl shrugs. The answer is beyond me as well. So guess what? You're going to a meeting Go figure something out But I've tried all that dumb shit Reminder, I'm the one who decides your value to society

Don't fuck with me Carl is shook Jordan throws a copy of the report at him You say it's dumb But I know that you're just scared. You better find a way to get over that fear. Carl thinks about how. Hours later, Carl sits on the couch fidgeting nervously, looking back and forth between the door and the drink in his hand. You know, I was hoping for a bit of that liquid courage you advertise.

Carl drinks. He looks at the door. Is this like a self-interest thing? Instead of getting up the nerve, you fray my nerve so bad I'm too weak and afraid to go? All at once, Carl stands, aces his drink, and heads out the door, grabbing his elf coat off a chair on the way. Interior, read apartment. Living room, night. Ashley comes home carrying a pizza and looking exhausted. I'm back from the breakdancing finals. I didn't win, but it was a

valuable experience, I think. My popping is excellent. My locking needs work. Jake greets her wearing a Christmas sweater, hair combed, and offering eggnog. It's his best impression of a good kid. Some delicious nog? Wow, so helpful.

And did you bathe? I know a mother's love is supposed to be unconditional, but I think I like you more right now. Later, kitchen. Jake and Ashley sit, sharing the pizza. Hope you weren't too hungry. I feel like other homes are full of pies, fresh-baked cookies, whatever a Yule log is, and a Christmas pheasant, maybe?

This food in this home is as good as any other, even if that home is in Southern Delaware. Ashley laughs, but the moment is ruined when the phone rings. She answers, and Jake watches her good mood turn sour as she shoots him a stern look. She covers the phone. It's Mr. Elfman? Did you blow off the food drive just to hang around the house? Very not cool, Jake.

People starve so you can eat pizza? Take some cans with you. Jake knows what's going on here, and he's royally pissed. Interior, Oficina Integrupal Hispania. Night. Jake and Carl join Hispanic alcoholics sitting in folding chairs while children race around the room. What the hell are we doing at a Mexican AA meeting? while children race around the room.

What the hell are we doing at a Mexican AA meeting? Do this next thing, and you'll be done with steps four and five and six and even seven. That's two birds with one stone. And then two more again. Dead birds all around. Fuck them. I really needed to lie to Mom for this. She finally seemed okay. Now she's back in crazy bitch mode.

You're too hard on her. That's why you need to be here. Step four, name ways you're a flawed fucker, emphasizing times you've been crazy fuckeratic, dumb fuckeronious, or violent fuckerruptive. Man, other kids don't deal with such crazy bullshit. It just doesn't happen with other moms. It's only her.

That's all I know. Carl spots Angel on his way to the front and gives a wave. That's your mall colleague, Santos Claus, if I'm not mistaken. I asked Papa Noel to share some of his story so you can see something. Your mom isn't as messed up as you think because the world isn't as pure as you think. The group claps as Angel gets behind the lectern. I'm not going to understand him anyway. It's okay. He said his niece agreed to translate. Angel whistles over to the children.

Maria, Maria, come here. Maria, 10, the most darling little kid ever, hustles over. Yes, uncle Angel. Maria smiles, tío Ángel. Maria smiles, super excited. Jake is still on edge. Series of shots. Maria translates Angel's story. As Maria translates for Angel, she playfully acts out what she says. Her vivid language and diction is very startling. Maria listens, then pretends to steal something.

Bueno, cuando las cosas estaban bien mal, yo era un bien borracho, oliendo todo, las bodegas por todo lado, oliendo cualquier cosa. When things were bad, I was a real boozehound, sniffing out vulnerable bodegas all over town.

Maria listens, then pretends to whisper a lie. La mentí a todo el mundo. Me mentí, mentira, mentira, mentira, vulnerable bodegas all over town. Maria listens, then pretends to whisper a lie. I lied to everyone. My lies led to more lies. I even lied to myself about how I felt about things. You ever guilty of that? I want to hear some character flaws by the end. Jake doesn't look up for it.

Maria listens, then pretends to fight. y la agarré porque le peleé y me robó mi ginebra. Cuando me desperté, tenía sangre en las manos, sangre. Y las latas, no sabía dónde estaban y no tenía 70 dólares. ¿Dónde estaban mis 70 dólares? ¿Dónde estaban? Pero bueno, eso era más que las latas. Y así fue que le pegué a un hombre filipino y lo encontré muerto. My bag of cans was stolen by a Filipino man named Lou. I snapped, blacked out because of rage and discount gin. When I came to, there was blood on my hands.

My cans were gone, but there was $70 in my pocket. Far more than what the cans were worth, but roughly the street value of an unlucky Filipino corpse. Maria listens, then gyrates awkwardly. I conceived my baby daughter in a porn store dumpster. This is going to be a little weird. Nobody's watching.

Maria listens, then pretends to be a kitty, licks her paw. Me comí un gato. Meow. I ate a cat out of spite. Maria listens, then squats and strains her face. Maria listens, then squats and strains her face. Me cagué en el pitcher's mound al lado de la izquierda. Me cagué, no sé por qué escogí la izquierda. I pooped on the leeward side of a pitcher's mound.

Maria listens, then translates Angel's closing remarks. Pero siempre me dicen que nadie se recupera solo. Mi familia está aquí y les quiero agradecer por eso. They tell us that no one recovers in isolation. My family is there for me. Thank you. Carl is deeply affected by these words as the group claps. You just saw step five right there.

Have the integrity to own your shit. Otherwise, head to the lube emporium because it's just pointless moral masturbation, a.k.a. don't be a bitch. Jake feels put on the spot. This isn't fair. I don't see what some crazy drunk has to do with me. You seriously can't own one weakness? What about you?

You're nothing but weakness. I'm the sad one? You can't keep going until you grow some balls and name some faults. I don't care about you and your stupid Dr. Seuss sounding steps. How am I supposed to learn something from someone who's more effed up than me?

Carl considers, slowly nods as he realizes his move. I'll show you. Jake is surprised when Carl answers with action. Carl stands, hands the notebook to Jake, and heads to the front. and heads to the front. Hola. Mi nombre es Carl. I really don't know where to start. Hey, that's one good thing about drinking.

You don't even remember a lot of the bad shit. Yeah, not funny. I want to talk about step six and seven. Jake sees his father struggling. When someone's always upset with you, you protect yourself and think, no, there's got to be something majorly wrong with them.

It's the most selfish dickhead thing you can do, especially to family, your wife, your mom, anyone you love. Jake sees himself in this, looks down ashamed. He sees himself in this, looks down ashamed. And that's where these two steps come in and ask, do you believe someone can change? Because if you don't, there's no point. Just stop. Sorry, this is my first time up here.

I couldn't do it before. I guess that's proof of small change, no? Actually, I couldn't do anything before. Finishing one step was impossible, let alone 12. I said I did, but... Jake leaves the notebook and heads for the exit. I thought I could fix things now if I told a small lie about back then. Jake begins to run as he bursts through the doors outside. Exterior, oficina Intregupal, Espana.

Day. Carl exits to see Jake jump on the bike and ride away. Wait! Fuck. Carl runs after him, notebook in hand. Exterior, town streets, day. Jake pedals as fast as he can, but the busted front wheel keeps Carl within shouting distance.

Jake, I'm sorry! You lie to us. You're exactly the same. Jake picks up speed on a hill and begins to pull away until the faulty wheel buckles and he goes flying, landing hard. Carl races over, but Jake pushes away any aid or comfort. Fuck off, loser!

They sit collecting their breath and their thoughts. So, you don't care about anything? You just get drunk all the time? When I drink, I don't get drunk. I get normal.

Then I get drunk. Staying normal makes you drunk? That doesn't make sense. Sometimes you drink just to forget you're drinking. None of it makes sense. Jake is absorbing this when he notices something on his bike. You guys spelled

healthy wrong. Also, mountain. Good job kneeling bike, though. Yeah, that'd be me. It was my job to stencil the words. I was a bit too sloshed for more than that. Mom spray painted it? Yeah.

We actually ran out of paint. Christmas Eve and your mother runs into the night and somehow, insanely, she returns with cans. From where? She wouldn't say, but the next morning I noticed your bike had the same color schemes as the robes of Mary and Joseph next door. The nativity scene? Mom stole spray paint from the neighbors? Jake limps over, picks up his bike to assess the damage. Unstealing them was actually way harder. Ended up mailing them back.

Can you do that? male aerosol cans no no that would be her second felony of the story she really wanted you to have that bike Jake untwist bent handlebars to find a detached brake line some of what you said up there sounded right. Like when you said you're a selfish dickhead. I'm glad that landed, the part about me being terrible. No, because I've been like that too. Like with Mom. Yeah? You don't become better if you're chasing some phone bullshit.

It could be called selfish dickhead behavior. Jake looks up to see Carl holding a pen up to step four. So I'm hearing you say you were wrong about something? Yeah, for sure. Carl crosses off step four, puts the pen to step five. And you're owning it? Yeah, screw this up. I just gotta get right with Mom.

Carl crosses off step five. So we still doing this? But there's a condition. If you're gonna help me, you gotta let me help you. God, it pains me to watch that. You have a deal. Jake moves to give Carl a big hug, but... Hold on. Carl pulls a half pint from his sock, tosses it into the woods.

Again, Jake moves to give Carl a big hug, but... One more. Carl pulls a tequila mini from the fold of his elf hat. Again, Jake moves to give Carl a big hug, but... Almost done. Carl pulls yet another mini from inside the other sock. Sort of losing the impulse to hug you here. That's it. I'm unarmed.

Carl opens his arms, defenseless, booze-less. They hug. Interior, read apartment, living room, day. Jack decorates the tree, looks, Jesus. I'm a big Jack Nicholson fan. Interior, read apartment, living room, day. Jake decorates the tree, looks over at Ashley. living room, day. Jake decorates the tree, looks over at Ashley. I'm almost done over here. You gonna do your side? Ashley's half is barely touched. She sits depressed and detached. It worries Jake. I think we still have enough time, like before grandma comes, if that's what's wrong. I just haven't been able to sleep, even though I'm exhausted. I only have a few hours before I leave. Your schedule's nuts.

Covering somebody else's shift. She helped me out a few days ago when I needed to leave, so... Oh. When you had to pick me up. It's a full, so I'll be back around two or three. Ashley's depression makes her hard to read. Interior, Carl's apartment, living room, night. Jake dons the higher elf hat.

Carl is sprawled out on the couch in a cold sweat. These withdrawals are hell. Higher elf commands, sit up. Forget me, focus on your mom. You said six and seven are about believing a person can change. I'm only asking you for one amends to prove it to me.

Shouldn't you already have a list in here? Oh, here we go. Carl shoots up and lunges for Jake, but he plays keep away. Amends. Compensate Tahitian whore Nahini? Repay Alex for whiskey whores. I think at the top of 53, you might have said repay Alex for whiskey whores.

And it's whores. So if we can just get that just in case. Whores. Whores. Whores. Yeah, both. That's my Philly accent. Repay Alex for whiskey horrors?

Apologize to the Polish community of East St. Louis? Carl yanks the notebook away and looks at his old list. Apologize to Ronnie because of that thing with his sister. Most of these are expired. If I can't make excuses, neither can you. Do you think they want that? Me busting in while they decorate the tree? Hey, Ron, haven't seen you in a decorate...

Decorate? Do you think they want that? Me busting in while they decorate the tree? Hey, Ron, haven't seen you in a decade. Sorry about that thing with your sister. Man, you should have seen the list she ended up on. No one needs that. How about this?

Why do you have to go to jail? Carl doesn't want to answer, but needs to. Telecommunications fraud. Telecom fraud, as we call it in the streets. Seriously? Like, robocalls? Yeah, but I wasn't swindling old ladies out of their tithing money. I only hit bad people, and my scams were all fake. Carl takes off his shirt to wipe flop sweat off his face. Oh, God. I'd think of the most despicable shit I could, really repulsive stuff, and then I'd offer a chance to get in on the action. You can't even call them victims. That's bull.

What could be so bad? Nazi gold do anything for you? That's the one I got busted for. Gold bullion exchange traded funds. Invest now for huge guaranteed returns. Oh, and they also got a free boat. Why the boat? Always offer a

boat. People love boats. Carl chugs water, painfully battling his withdrawal. My PO thinks there was more than one scam, but he can't prove it. It drives him crazy. I just never left any evidence.

How'd you get caught then? One night I was drunk. I was drunk. I fucked up. Somehow, instead of having a nice wide range like always, all calls went local. A couple of thousand townspeople got an identical call about Himmler and the ultra-low 4% premium on wartime loot. This like a Cayman Islands thing? Nah, it's too obvious. They expect an offshore account.

Instead, do the opposite. Lichtenstein. Oh, boy. Instead, do the opposite. Lichtenstein. Enclosed by an entire continent on all sides. I got a guy there. Carl picks up a shirt and smells it.

Throws an old Colt 45 tee with Billy Dee Williams promising it works every time. Not sure we found our amends yet. Start small, my disciple. What'd you do with all the money? Carl doesn't want to say, but... Exterior. Abe's Liquor

Locker Bar. Night. Jake and Carl stand in front of a dive bar. Carl doesn't wear his Santa hat or beard. Wow. You blew it all at a place called Abe's Liquor Locker? A lot of memories here. They're all blank, but I recall there were a lot of them.

Carl opens the door but stops Jake from following. Considering the tidbits I do remember, you should probably wait outside. No way. I'm your sponsor here. Fair enough. Carl holds the door but Jake stops to question him. By the way, no beard, no hat? The people around here are used to seeing me all scraggly. Never clean-shaven like now. It'll totally throw them. Oh, and this. Carl slaps on a yarmulke. Who's that smooth Jew? Ain't Carl, that's for sure.

Carl follows Jake inside. Interior Abe's Liquor Locker Bar, night. It's dark and smells like stale beer. Drunk Barfly Mike looks just like Carl in 15 years. Calls over. Hey. Hey, Carl. What's up, man? Hey, my man. What's good?

How's that shit with your landlord going? Mike groans, so drunk he struggles to keep his head up. Mike? Hey, Mikey. He's, uh, shy. He's an introvert. Jake is alarmed to see Carl's natural environment. Owner and operator Abe, 70, folksy, seen it all,

is behind the bar melting last night's ice well when he notices Carl. Carl, good to see you, my friend. Oh, look at you. You look like hell. You do seem far more upright than normal. Less surly, perhaps. Seven

and Coke. Sorry it's last night's ice, but I'm guessing you don't mind terribly. Carl's reflex is strong, but he looks at Jake and resists. Thanks, but no. And it's not the ice. Abe is puzzled, then notices Jake.

Hey, hey, hey, what's with the kid? He can't be in here. I mentor him. Big brother type thing. One of those deals for kids without a father? I can't imagine you'd be much improvement. They didn't know what they were doing. I've turned over a new leaf.

Since Wednesday? Yes. Wednesday. It was a pivotal hump day. A lot can happen on a Wednesday. You don't even remember, do you? Carl does not. And that drink looks really good. Well, you challenged each person in the place. Shouted that they were wasting their lives, drinking it away and such. I'm the only one willing to fight for more!

You kept yelling that. You really wanted to fight someone. You were swinging like a madman. Well, that's sort of why I'm here. I want to apologize for stuff. I'm not sure how... I've watched you for years now. I swear to God, you pick fights just to lose them. Carl motions for Abe to shut up in front of Jake. Hey, that's right. You're a real asshole. I remember now, you're a real... and a real piece of shit.

Carl turns to find a resurgent Mikey inches from his face. Listen, I'm sorry if we fought. This is your old man. Jake blows their cover to defend his dad. Yeah, and what if he is? Well, he's a real asshole. He's a real... and a real... A real piece of shit.

Yeah, and he's a bitch. And worthless. He's a punk-ass drunk. Sounds exactly right, actually. Even he knows you're a fucktard. That's not all. He's scraggly. He drinks away the bad and the good.

He can barely stand straight most of the time. What else? No friends. Has a meaningless life. Right? And smells like drippy farts. Yeah, exactly. Thing is, he's changed now.

Tell him. Bullshit. Things are different now, yeah. I mean, I'm sober now. Abe is shocked. Mike is defensive. Oh, so you think you're better than me. Fucking sober?

You're not better than me. We're the same, asshole. Don't fucking forget it. The same? So he's just like you. And you just described all the ways he was a total loser. Mike is twisted around.

He was like that. And to be honest, I literally just started describing you. That's how bad he was. As bad as being you. Before anyone reacts, Abe slides Carl's drink down the bar. Oh, Mikey, you weren't even here that night. Go drink that and shut the hell up. Mike slinks away, collapses back onto a bar

stool. So you said you want to apologize, but don't know how. Try this. Just say it. Tell me you're sorry. Then what for? Okay. Sorry for being a flake or an asshole and whatever else on and off for much of the past decade. Make direct amends to such people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. Not as easy as it sounds. Touch people whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. Not as easy as it sounds. 20 years sober. Seriously? But amends are more than just words. You gotta stick to shit.

So, get the fuck out. Happy to see you go. Merry Christmas. Carl appreciates the moment. He and Jake head out. Oh, you're Jewish now, too? When did that happen? I told you.

It was a hell of a Wednesday, man. Well, I am. Abe watches them go. Interior, Carl's apartment, living room, night. Carl is altering his elf jacket, tailoring it, and cutting off frills. Jake sits, racking his brain. You need the mother of all amends. What do you do for the woman who carried you around inside her for nine months?

And then all that other stuff since. How is she? She's been super depressed. Before, she was totally freaking out about impressing Grandma. Now it's like she doesn't care. Does she ever just tell you what would make her happy? We don't talk much. She's at work or she's mad at me because I ruined another day.

Jake reflects before having a lightbulb moment. That's it. She always wishes for it out loud. I just wish I could have one nice day. Jake stands excited. Carl completes it. One nice day where nothing goes wrong and no one gets upset. It sounds so easy, but we always fuck it up. This is true. This will be different. I'll give her one nice day. Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve. Jake deflates and sits back down.

How the F am I going to do that? What does she yell at you for? She's probably directly letting you know what she wants. Huh. That never occurred to me before. It's a lot of small things, I guess. You think that stuff matters? What do you think? Yeah. Maybe a lot, actually. I can start super early after she leaves for work.

They share an awkward moment wondering the same thing. I guess I won't need this snazzy jacket now. No, I can still come over. It won't take all day if I'm fast. We still have steps to finish, right? Of course we do. You're still super fucked up, right? Jake nods a serious, of course, before laughing. Interior read apartment kitchen, morning. Jake enters while Ashley runs through her morning routine. You're up early. Christmas Eve. Biggest day on the Christmas food drive calendar. I'll see you later tonight.

Dinner with Grandma's gonna be late, so grab a snack or something. Okay, Mom. Ashley heads out. Jake springs into action. Montage. Jake gives Mom one nice day, and Carl struggles. Jake at home using Ashley's to-do list from the car. He cleans everything using all the products Ashley bought. He changes the sheets.

Poorly. Does laundry. Also poorly. He laundry, also poorly. He launches into decorating the hell out of the place. He sees one item remains, baby Jesus Christ. He stands in front of the neighbor's nativity scene. Mary and Joseph are indeed enrobed in the same colors as his bike. He steals baby Jesus from the manger

and replaces him with a Red Sox-era David Wells bobblehead. Carl's apartment. Carl opens Deal With Cravings on his addiction recovery phone app, follows the list of un-Carl-like recommendations. Eat healthy. He throws out all his food. Orders something healthy. One bite and he gags.

Tosses it and orders pizza. Learn a hobby. He finds a guitar and smiles. Loads yangui... I'm sorry, how do you say it? Yingwei Maomstein. Sorry? Yingwei Maomstein.

Yingwei Maomstein. Loads yangui Maomstein. Ying Wei Malmsteen. Sorry? Ying Wei Malmsteen. Ying Wei Malmsteen. Lode's Yang Wei Malmsteen Ray Master Series Instructional VHS epically fails to follow the poodle-haired Swede in purple blouse. Meditate. He tries to focus with eyes closed. But there's a game on TV. Then a cell alert from Pornhub. Then a call.

He watches TV next to a now-broken guitar. Talk to a loved one. He thinks a moment, then skips it. He closes the app and checks his Pornhub alert instead. Jake's apartment. Jake sits with broken pieces of the ceramic Santa statue. With a determined look, he unscrews

a tube of super glue. He has some success with his painstaking reconstruction, but it collapses over and over and over. It breaks into pieces. He's blitzed by aggravation and he wants to erupt,

but he gathers himself and begins again every time. Interior Carl's apartment, living room day. Jordan enters to find an organized, spotless apartment. Avre un certo longorino Ovviamente non 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. see. Not exactly the response I was expecting. Expect less. Carl trails Jordan around as he makes his appraisal. I'm glad you have family visiting. They can teach you the true meaning of Christmas, you prickly pear. Bullshit. Bah humbug. That's you. You're just like Scrooge. What? You said humbug.

Literally. The translation for the word humbug is bullshit. Ah. Yeah, the family dragged me to Stevens Park yesterday. I despise that place. And with them around, I feel guilty about it. I feel wicked, like it's a crime for me to hate Christmas cheer. Stevens Park, what a great idea. Couldn't you feel how excited the kids were?

Some vicarious mirth? You have no idea how jolly they get. It's absolutely crushing me. Used to be just me and Carol, you know? She love Christmas? No. Hell no. She hated Christmas more than me. Oh, God.

It was heaven. We would just be together. Aggressively not celebrating. Carl still tails Jordan, hopefully and proud of his apartment. Jordan sees Carl's cut-up, self-tailored elf jacket. What happened there? Carl shrinks, searches for a lie. You know, fashion and stuff.

New look for today's modern elf. Does so. Still have the job? Or you just walk out again? No response. Carl. How the hell can you be so self-serving and so self-destructive all at once? Jordan marks the list and tosses Carl's copy on the floor. For your records. Humbug. Exterior, Stevens Park entrance, night. Jake and Carl approach the holiday excitement of the big annual Stevens Park Christmas Festival.

Welcome to step two. But instead of finding the Holy Spirit, your step is believe in the motherfucking spirit of Christmas. Stevens Park? I've hated this place since I was a kid. Didn't feel the spirit then. Rarely doubt I will now. Still, Jake follows as Carl heads in.

Exterior Stevens Park inside night. A big celebration. The park is full of lights, music, and kiddie rides. The whole town is there. In World War I, the Western Front suddenly went silent. No guns firing, no death. Why? The Germans began decorating their trench with candles and wishing the English a Merry Christmas.

The Brits sang back the first Noel. The crowds performed Silent Night. Enemy soldiers emerged, met in no man's land to drink and celebrate. Carl loves this story. Jake has heard him tell it before. That's the Christmas truce of 1914, spontaneously springing up from nothing but death, mustard gas, and trench foot. So if you can't feel the Christmas spirit in this place, then I have truly failed. Ticket girl, 17, working the entrance stops Carl. Sir, we ask that you take off the Santa hat. What? We don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

She points to a sign. Santa's hat is one of many forbidden Christmas symbols. Then she points to a banner above. Secular Winter Solstice Celebration. Carl takes off his hat as he realizes they totally stripped away Christmas. No red and green. No elves. No elves. No Rudolph.

Volunteers wear shirts with the pagan moon goddess on them. What'd they do to the Christmas magic? Carl is incredulous. He swigs on a bottle of soda he carries. I guess they're sort of with me on the whole spirit thing. Carl is in denial. He spots a bake sale and rushes over. Whatever, who needs decorations?

A bake sale is chock full of Christmas spirit. But no nuts, gluten, or sugar. What the hell's left after that? A more nourishing alternative, that's what. No, no, this should be chocolate chip snowball and sugar cookies damn it the loud and proud cookies that don't hide what they're about you got healthier snacks now because of childhood obesity but isn't that just fat shaming honestly we track these things this made Carl steps away

and drinks his soda in a way that makes us suspect the truth. It's half liquor. Relax. You're just on edge because you're not drinking. No, this is important. You don't get it. I remember coming before. I get it. No, no. Every Christmas is new and totally unique. The whole season is a big reset. There's nothing else like it.

That's the Christmas spirit. It's about hope. Carl can barely handle it. He is chugging more soda when he spots, in the shadows, a spidery structure looms. Hosanna in the fucking highest. Carl approaches. It's an old kiddie carnival swing ride.

Oh, wow. Too bad it's not running. Oh, it will. Just need some juice. I know you remember the Rudolph ride. Yeah, you puked on me when I was eight. Carl walks around the ride inspecting the base. A bit too much eggnog with my whiskey that day. Don't you mean the opposite? No. If it was just a cup of whiskey, I'd have been fine. Twas. A bit too much eggnog with my whiskey that day. Don't you mean the opposite? No.

If it was just a cup of whiskey, I'd have been fine. Twas the night of too much nog. Jake notices clean-cut humdrum dad, Carl's age. There with his wide-eyed daughter, eight. They don't know what to make of Carl. Do you know what's up with this? Well, yeah. It was our favorite.

They shut her down last year. He's right. It's not operating. Just need some juice! Carl triumphantly hoists thick wires running to the ride. Christmas is magical if you make it. You gotta want it. The spirit works if you work it. Carl spots a large green pad-mounted utility box, heads over. There we go, one of those big green box things.

Shit, it's locked. Well, I'd hope so. There's a power distribution transformer in there. Of course! Yeah, exactly. Well, perfect. Power distribution transformer. You really shouldn't touch that if you don't know what you're doing. You got ground wire for the whole park running through that thing. Carl has pulled

up some sort of how-to article on his phone. Damn straight, brown wire. That's what's called the primary high voltage. Did you know that? Humdrum dad and wide-eyed daughter give Jake a nervous look. This doesn't seem like standard wiring. That's okay. Just strip off the top thingy. Piggyback bear wires onto our plug here. Carl whips out an impressive pocket knife and strips wires. This really isn't worth it. Christmas isn't always blow-your-mind amazing. Sometimes you just gotta buckle in and enjoy the rickety holiday ride.

Carl has created a jumble of exposed wires. What are we celebrating here? I only remember bad shit like you and Mom fighting. Something always went wrong, so just stop it. Carl strips the large, powerful ground wire. That's exactly why we need to do this. It's absolutely about getting this up and running. Jake softens.

Let me make amends. This is one bad memory we can fix. Carl studies his hand and concentrates as he gets ready to give it that juice. Cut to... Throughout the park lights surge, dim and flicker, flashing in and out. At the bake sale children and parents look around confused. At the entrance, Ticket Girl feels concerned looks. Under a parking lot light leaning on his cruiser, Officer Shmulla, 50, bloated, is alarmed. Looks out and sees a small explosion on the far side of the park before bright Christmas glory. The Rudolph ride lights up the sky.

Rudolph ride. Carl's clothes are smoking and his Santa beard burned off, exposing his face. He's in a great shock. Rattled, but wired. A lot of juice. You should be dead.

I'm fine. I'm possessed by the spirit. No, you are severely electrocuted. I'm gonna go get help. Look, Daddy. She points up at Rudolph, brightly lit with nose so bright. Throughout the park, children start flocking to the bright red and green lights. Officer Shmola heads over with them to investigate. Rudolph ride. Carl jumps onto the control platform.

No music? He used to play Christmas music, remember? Jake spots a switch behind a locked cage. I might have it, but it's locked. He thinks, then kicks until it breaks open like Carl did. Got it. Children excitedly rush to get on the ride. Fuck it. Humdrum Dad helps his thrilled daughter onto a swing.

Not bad, right? Jake smiles, feeling the Christmas energy. You know, if you get on this ride, then you can cross off step two. Jake smiles and runs to the last open swing. The ride begins playing an instrumental 12 Days of Christmas. Carl takes a triumphant swig of soda, dons his Santa hat, and begins belting his own lyrics,

forced into the melody. On the first step of Christmas, my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree. For some reason... Jake buckles himself in. On the second step of Christmas, my P.O. said to me, in this cup you must pee. And here are a couple more partridges. Carl starts the ride, but before Jake is out of earshot. On the third step of Christmas my child gave to me

a second final chance. Jake hides his face in embarrassment but is cracking up. On the fourth step of Christmas my body gave to me shakes like a leaf.

Talking about Muhammad and three more goddamn partridges. The ride goes full tilt, and children love Carl singing. On the fifth step of relapse, a boozehound gave to me booze. And he was like, you're going to need this this because here's more partridges buddy partridges jake takes it all in the ride music lights and carl jake has to smile kid-like affected by christmas cheer carl speaks from the controls to someone on the ground. Fine, traditional lyrics from now on. It's Officer Shmola he's talking to, and he is not amused.

Shut it off and come on down. Be decent, man. Have some holiday cheer. You guys want me to stop the ride? No! Jake is flying by on his swing when he sees Carl talking to a cop. His joy is replaced with familiar disappointment. I think you're drunk. You don't know the rules? When you wear a Santa hat, you're not drunk, you're jolly. Jake can only see what's happening when he passes on his swing. Each time he does,

things look worse. Carl hops down and Officer Shmulla moves to detain him. We've done this before, Carl. When you refused to surrender the pavilion for the Lilac Festival. That doesn't sound like me. I must have had a good reason. Jake jumps from the moving ride and runs over in time to see... Officer Schmulla reaches in Carl's jacket and pulls out a bottle of vodka. Then opens the soda bottle and sniffs. We're right over here. Come on, let's go. You're not serious.

Officer Shmulla takes Carl away, passing Jake. I'm sorry. Humdrum Dab shuts off the riot. The lights go dark and the music goes silent as Carl is led away. Jake is left alone, exposed, noticed. We recognize some of Jake's classmates, including Chad. Hey, Jake! They're taking away your drunk homeless friend! I think that's his fucking dad.

Jake looks around and, like in class before, doesn't see one kind face. Again, they record with their nice phones. Aren't you gonna freak out? Freak? Jake doesn't fight. He blocks it out and pushes past everyone. What's wrong? Where's your Christmas spirit? Now Jake snaps. He turns and charges, so emotional he attacks the wrong kid.

Starts beating on Chad's friend, number three. Chad peels him off. Jake stands, ready to fight them all. And he tries, swinging like a madman. But one guy can't beat three. And they start getting some good shots in. Jake falls back onto the ground, hitting the legs of an intervening adult. He looks up, face dirty and cut, to see Principal McGriff, wearing a moon goddess volunteer shirt.

This is getting control of yourself? Jake doesn't have an answer. Do you have someone to take you home? Interior police cruiser moving night. Motherly female officer, Ashley's age, drives with Jake slouched in the backseat, angry and embarrassed. Try not to be too upset. It's still Christmas Eve after all. I'm not upset. The cruisers roll past each other and Jake sees Carl in the backseat.

They manage brief eye contact before looking away, both in trouble and ashamed. Later, Jake looks out the window as they turn down his street. This it? Yeah. That your mom? Jake sees Ashley getting home. She struggles to open the door

while carrying bags full of groceries for dinner. Interior, read apartment, living room, night. Ashley stays by the door, closes her eyes as she processes. It's not what you think. It's not just getting in this kind of trouble,

having a cop bring you home, for Christ's sake. With your grandmother coming later tonight. There's the other thing. Obviously, you weren't helping at the food drive. You blew it off for the park. Jake doesn't know how to answer Tell me the truth for once I didn't volunteer tonight

I say I'm in disbelief but You can only be shocked so many times before you realize It's just how things are I never volunteered Ever As in ever? This whole time? Where have you been going?

What have you been doing? Nothing. So then all the rest of this stuff, how you've been acting lately, is this just an act? Some setup to get a stupid phone out of me? No, that's not it. What are we doing here? Who am I raising? She walks off, not mentioning the decorations or work he did. Fine. Believe what you want. Maybe I really am that bad.

Jake hides his frustrated tears as he wipes them away. Later, Jake places the reconfigured ceramic Santa statue on an end table near Ashley napping. He covers her with the blanket, then grabs his coat and sneaks out into the night. End Act Two.