Table Read - The Jew Who Saved Christmas - Act 1

Episode Date: December 10, 2024

Act 1: The Jew Who Saved Christmas Welcome to the holiday chaos you never knew you needed. Meet Bernie Gold—Spirit Airlines check-in clerk, reluctant adult, and connoisseur of bad decisions. It’s Christmas Eve (or, as Bernie will remind you, the seventh night of Hanukkah), and while the rest of O’Hare Airport is brimming with holiday cheer, Bernie’s slouching her way through TSA complaints, confiscated wine bottles, and unsolicited career advice from her aggressively optimistic co-worker, Eve. Bernie’s life is a snow globe of dysfunction, and someone just shook it—hard. Enter a mysterious piece of "Miracle Gelt" that takes this night from mildly chaotic to “holy crap, is that actually Santa Claus in my parents’ garage?” Let’s just say Santa’s not exactly in prime sleigh-piloting condition, and Bernie might’ve had something to do with it. What follows is a whirlwind of edible-fueled mishaps, family judgment, and a holiday disaster that’s teetering on the edge of redemption. And the Cast? This lineup will make you laugh so hard you’ll spill your eggnog: Jeff Bergman (@jeffbergmanofficial) – The voice legend who brings magic to every moment. Selyna Warren (@selynadoubleya) – Writer, star, and the kind of comedic genius that keeps you hooked. Jim O’Heir (@therealjimoheir) – The guy who stole your heart in Parks and Rec steals the show again. Marissa Read (@marissalread) – A double-duty powerhouse delivering laughs and heart. John Milhiser (@johnmilhiser) – Former SNL dynamo bringing the absurdity to life. Kiel Kennedy (@kielkennedy) – The gold standard of comedy chaos. Tiffany Black (@tiffanyblackness) – Pure holiday hilarity in human form. Carla Delaney (@voicesbycarla) – The kind of voice work that makes you laugh even when you don’t want to. Ashley Bell (@ashleymichaelbell) – A scene-stealer who brings charm and mischief in equal measure. David Jacks – An actor who makes every moment count. ✨This isn’t your cookie-cutter holiday story. It’s raw, messy, ridiculously funny, and filled with just the right amount of holiday heart. Elevator Pitch: In Act 1 of The Jew Who Saved Christmas, you’ll laugh, cringe, and maybe even tear up a little as Bernie Gold stumbles her way through a Hanukkah-Christmas mashup of biblical proportions. With sharp dialogue, hilariously flawed characters, and just enough holiday magic to keep you guessing, this is the start of a holiday tale that’s anything but traditional—and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Ontario 1 2 3 TABLE READ THE TWO WHO SAVE CHRISTMAS The Jew Who Saved Christmas! Woo! The Jew Who Saved Christmas written by Selena Warren and Marissa Reed. Episode 1 Interior, O'Hare Airport, Chicago, early evening. The airport is bustling with holiday excitement. O'Hare Hall is decked out with boughs of holly.

Red velvet bows hang festively. Light-up turtle doves float below the skylight ceiling where snowflakes dance to carols playing over the loudspeakers. It's Christmas Eve. On the moving walkway, we meet our hero, Bernie Gold. The neon lights turn blue and white creating a halo of Jewish light around our lead. Bernie is a mess. Her Spirit Airlines uniform is untucked and unwashed. With zero fucks to give, Bernie takes a massive hit off her vape. As she exhales, our title slaps,

The Jew Who Saved Christmas. Bernie! Introducing the bane of Bernie's existence, Agent Gimble, a TSA agent who takes his job very seriously. His muscles bulge out of his uniform as he scolds Bernie. If I gave a rat's ass about Christmas,

I'd say you just gave me a present. Vaping violation code 219. No way you're getting out of this one. Enjoy getting shit kicked. I will get you gone, Bernie! Bernie blows her vape smoke directly into his chiseled trap before walking away. I will get you gone, Bernie! Interior Spirit Airlines counter O'Hare moments later. Bernie stands behind the check-in counter staring blankly at an angry customer, his overweight bag on the scale between them. I'm already paying a fee for choosing my seat, a fee for my backpack, a fee to drink water.

And now you want me to pay an extra $25 because my bag is one pound overweight? I don't make the rules, sir. I just barely get paid to enforce them. You can't make an exception. It's one pound. Your airline is named Spirit and it's Christmas Eve. Or the seventh night of Hanukkah. The customer wipes away the spit that landed in his eye Bernie leans over the counter tell you what I'm gonna help you out. Yes. Thank you lose the wine and no matter the weight I'll wave the sea Unbelievable the angry customer digs through his bag and slams the bottle on the counter as he walks away

Enjoy Baltimore Bernie turns to Eve her best friend and festive co-worker. Eve's joyous, direct, and as a firm believer of fate. As Eve lugs heavy bags onto the conveyor belt, Bernie gooses her with a bottle of wine. Don't do that! Now I don't have to pick up a bottle for the party tonight. It's a Hanukkah miracle. I didn't know your kind had those.

We invented them. Cheers, bitch. You just shoved that up my butt and now you're gonna serve it to your family? Duh. Eve reaches under the counter to grab something. If your crude ass celebrated my reason for the season, you'd get nothing but coal.

Since you don't, I got you a little something for Hanukkah. Aw, Eve. You got me a little something for Hanukkah. Aw, Eve, you got me a present? Good, because I also got you something. Bernie reaches under her side of the counter and pulls out more contraband, this time absent. I saw you confiscate that. Yeah, for you.

You're welcome. Okay, my turn. Bernie unwraps her gift and her face drops when she sees that inside lies a flight attendant application. You filled out my application? You're welcome. That's mail fraud. You've been putting it off. Look, B, I still really want to go through training together,

but I can't wait any longer. I'm manifesting getting my wings in the new year. This was hate mail, not a present. I know you don't believe in signs. Uh. But I printed out my application and two came out. See? Everything happens for a reason.

Stop quoting your psychic. He's my pastor, but he is deeply intuitive. Eve. I'm just saying that clearly a higher power is guiding me to be your light. Follow me. Let me help you. Jews don't get saved. And besides, I'm just saying that clearly a higher power is guiding me to be your light. Follow me. Let me help you. Jews don't get saved. And besides, I'm not taking advice from a woman who believes that my choices are dictated by the universe. Eve slapsticks a checked luggage tag to Bernie's forehead.

Ow! Someone had to check your ego. Did it have to be to Missouri? Everyone needs help sometimes, Bernie. When are you gonna get a grasp of that? Bernie opens her mouth to argue, but stops herself thinking. Okay. Yeah.

Yeah, you're right. I am? Yes. I am ready to admit that I need help. From you. Right now, actually. Bernie, I'm not covering for you. You can cover for me!

I wanna hit up the dispensary before they close. Thank you! You are such a good! I wanna hit up the dispensary before they close. Thank you! You are such a good friend. Merry Christmas, Eve, Eve. Bernie hops over the counter, grabbing her wine. You are so annoying. Save you some soup cognac. I don't speak Jewish.

Not a language! Bernie exits into the snowy night. Eve looks down at the left behind application. She shakes her head in disappointment. Exterior, streets of Chicago, early evening. Bernie walks down the magnificent mile, lit up with Christmas windows displays as her AirPods blast the score to home alone,

interrupting her jovial jam or multiple texts from her family. Text alert from Mom. Bernie, do you have enough wine? Dad likes dry whites. Hey. Bernie rolls her eyes. Text alert from Bitch Sister. Make sure you lock your bedroom.

The garage isn't safe for baby Samuel. Five isn't a baby, you psychopath. Text alert from Auntie Orna. Friendly reminder, no peanut emoji, peanut emoji, peanut emoji. Text alert from Mom. I pulled out the dining room leaf so you wouldn't scratch it like you did last time.

Bernie takes out her AirPods and all is silent. She's suddenly calm, odd for a woman headed down an unlit alley. Bernie puts her keys between her fingers, strolling until she lands under a neon sign reading, the Kosh Kosh. Bernie kisses her fingers before touching a mezuzah, which buzzes her in.

Interior, the Kosh Kosh, continuous. Bernie heads to the counter and picks up a displayed shofar. To the guys out there, it's a ram's horn used to ring in the Jewish New Year. A sign reads, blow me. Bernie follows suit. A long toot rings out, tequila! Through a beaded curtain enters Benjamin.

Benjamin sports peus and a man bun. Think Jewish Dave Matthews. Bernie! Haksameach, my dude. Benjamin and Bernie secret handshake over the counter. He slides Bernie a new cartridge for her vape. On the house for the holiday broski. Thanks, Benjamin, but I'll be needing more than this for tonight.

That's right. It's your big night, seven fiesta. First night hosting since 2011. The infamous night for fire. You're a local legend, ya diddy. Benjamin points to a framed Chicago Tribune clipping. The headline reads, miracle of frights. Hanukkah party gone wrong.

Oil fire burns family home. I've asked you to take that down. Benjamin shakes his head, never. Well, that's old news because after tonight, my name and Hanukkah won't be associated with fire. Actually, it will be, but the Gen Z good kind. Hell yeah, friend. So how can I help you get redemptive fried?

You looking for an indica in the couch situation or a pre-party pump up? Benjamin, I'm not smoking before my party. My family's already taking cash bets on me beefing it. I just want something for after to help me unwind. I got just the thing, my man. Benjamin ducks below the counter and pops back up with gold-wrapped gelt.

Bernie inspects the tag. Miracle gelt. Just one bite, and in one night, eight crazy adventures will ignite. I do love a theme, eight miracles per serving. My safta in Israel got these eats from some ancient rabbi who's a descendant of the Maccabees. This shit's got salt from the Dead Sea,

dates from the West Bank. It's blessed by like four holy beards. Yeah, okay, easy on the hard sell. I'm down for oddables. Thanks, Ben. All right, I'm out. Wish me luck. Jews don't believe in luck.

Only bucks. 50, actually. Yeah, it's still cheaper than therapy. Happy Hanukkah, schmuck. As Bernie pays in heads out, a customer blows the shofar in Benjamin's face. I'm right here. Interior, Bernie's parents' house, night.

Jewish instrumental drops as we see inserts of Bernie preparing for the party. A blue tablecloth parachutes open. A gleaming menorah is set atop. Oil bubbles as potato latke batter splatters. Manischewitz blows down a tower of stacked coupes. Dreadles and gelt are spread out on the kiddie table. A best of Barbara record spins. Jelly is squeezed into doughnuts.

A star of David Necklis is secured over Bernie's throat. Interior living room later that night. Bernie beams with pride as her family enjoys her party, looking spiffy in her blue dress. Bernie dances around gracefully, offering latkes from a tray. She lands at the family gossip. Auntie Orna, latke?

Bernie, you look gorgeous. Dressing up as someone special or you still single? Still single. Mm-hmm. Bernie laughs it off as she continues on. Daddy, Zadie, Latke? Bernadette, you find your own place yet? Or you're still freeloading off your parents?

Still freeloading. Ha ha ha ha. Bernie continues on, the tray leading her to Uncle Gary, a man who is mostly nose hairs. There she is, my Jewish stewardess. Can I finally get a free ticket to Bermuda, or do you still, are you, there you go. How are you, one more time, one more time.

There she is, my Jewish stewardess. Can I finally get a free ticket to Bermuda, or are you still just a check-in girl? Bernie opens her mouth to reply, but her very pregnant and uptight older sister, Rommie, answers for her. Still just a check-in girl. She's afraid of flying and wants to be a flight attendant.

I actually think the poetic stupidity sums up Bernie to a T. Uncle Gary stares blankly at Bernie. There's an awkward beat. Gary, did you know Rommie is a lawyer? Isn't that impressive? She helped send marriages. What a hero! Rami, tell Gary about your cases in placenta. A knock on the door saves the day. Bernie answers, revealing Carol's singers. Bernie's neighbors dressed in Yuletide immediately burst into song.

Hi Phil, we're actually in the middle of... Can you just stop singing for once? How long is the song? You know what? I don't have time for... Shut the fuck up! Bernie's scream makes the carol singers abruptly stop. Phil, Bernie's Ned Flandery's neighbor, rests his hands on his von Trapp looking son's shoulders. I'm sorry Phil. What can I do you for? We're in the middle of a Hanukkah party. Sorry to intrude, Bernie. We do know you're Jewish. Why quotations? But we wanted to include you in the Christmas fun.

How neighborly. But it is I that should include you. Why don't you join in on our Hanukkah fun? Phil's towheaded child grabs his dad in fear. Dad, no! If we go in there, Santa will think I'm Jewish. He'll skip our house and I won't get my Nintendo Switch. Maybe next time, Bernie. It's not like Hanukkah has a shortage of knights.

And yet y'all still picked Christmas Eve to celebrate. Well, okay, we're off to finish the rounds. Spread the cheer. Convert the masses. Pardon? Merry Christmas, Phil, area neighbors. They start to sing Merry Did You Know as Bernie slams the door in their faces, interior living room later. The family is gathered around as Bernie lights the menorah. Everyone sings the prayer. Baro, baro, baro, atah, haloni, halameinu, melech halam. Aish-e-kid-i-shanu, ba-mitzvah-tah,

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Ontario only. Please play responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about your gambling or someone close to you please contact connects Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge bet MGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario Well, I thought it was perfect. You can't go like, says our fake name. Everyone claps and celebrates. Woo! Bernie's mother Fran pinches Bernie's arm.

Hey kid, you did good. Real good. Thanks mom. I mean, I have to be honest, I was worried. I was not confident that this would be such a success. I upped our insurance policy. The addition's barely a decade old. Yeah, that's nice, Mom. But you're really growing up.

I know a lot of millennials had to move back in with their parents. I mean, not your sister, but you did. You were always a little behind. Mom, you were complimenting me, I think. Right, sorry. What I'm trying to say is tonight, after refusing my excellent party planning advice and ignoring your sister's offer to cater, you still... what I mean is, everything you did was absolutely beyond.

Ahem. Ahem. Wow. You can't let me have one compliment without... Ahem. Ahem. Ahem. But Rami's not the only one clearing her throat.

Bernie looks around as her family erupts into hacking fits, hives, itchy palms, and swollen faces. Bernie! Bernie, nothing had peanuts, right? Mom, no, I know everyone's allergic. I'm not an idiot. Fran takes off into the... Interior kitchen, continuous. She opens cabinets, drawers, and bags as Bernie shadows her.

Mom, you're stressing out for no reason. Sure, our family may be a little... Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, I'm not going to let you go! I'm not going to let you go! Congested? But it could be anything! Fran continues to search for the source. Bernie follows her, making her case. I would not have done something so careless. I overprepared for tonight. But by the way, you were just complimenting me on. So, we could sit here and spend our night searching for a phantom peanut that does not exist.

Or, you could let me finish during the best Hanukkah party this family has ever seen. Fran turns around slowly, lips now straight out of Kylie's syringe. She is holding up a huge tub of arachus oil. What? That's not, that's not peanut oil. I splurged for the fancy stuff.

It was like seven extra dollars. Arachus oil is yes, peanut oil! Fran and Bernie re-enter the interior living room, continuous. We gotta go to the ER. David, start the car! Get the EpiPen! They see everyone shuffling out. Bernie grabs her coat and is almost out the door when her sister stops her.

No! You've done enough! Bernie is left behind watching her family load into their car as they try not to die. Interior, Bernie's bedroom, converted garage hours later. Now in her PJs, a giant Hanukkah hoodie and tighty-whities, Bernie lies in bed watching TV. A Christmas commercial where a gooey chocolate chip cookie is pulled apart makes Bernie perk up. Nestle. Sexy commercial. I remember.

Sexual! I don't want a cookie. I tried. Okay, wait. Nestle, the only cookie suitable for Santa. Fuck yeah. I don't want a cookie. I tried.

Okay, wait. Nestle, the only cookie suitable for Santa. Fuck yeah. I don't want a cookie. I tried. I don't want a cookie. I tried. I tried. Okay, wait. Nestle. The only cookie suitable for Santa. Fuck yeah. Bernie is covered in flour dough as she mixes cookie dough and searches the cupboard. Chocolate chips, chocolate chips. Not finding the goods, Bernie thinks and then spots the kitty gelt on the table.

Light bulb moment. Oh yeah. Miracle gelt on the table. Light bulb moment. Oh yeah, miracle gelt. Smash two. Edgar Wright style inserts. An underwear drawer flies open. Miracle gelt is snatched. A chocolate coin is smashed with a meat tenderizer. Cookie dough is spooned onto a sheet

and shoved in an oven. A window flies open. Bernie fans out potent smoke. Ding! Cookies are ready. Interior living room, later. Bernie plops onto the couch, holding a plate of edible chocolate chip cookies.

She grabs one and immediately burns her finger. Ouch! Patience, practice patience. She sets the cookies aside and clicks on the TV Adam Sandler's eight crazy night starts No, that's all we get Bernie yawns and rubs her eyes seconds later. She's fully conked out mouth open drooling Time-lapse breaking the sound of white noise and snores is an eerie creaking not coming from doors Scuffling and sleigh bells are heard from the roof. The clatter continues till we see the proof.

Soot wafts out of the fireplace and we introduce Santa in all of his grace. He is the perfect Coca-Cola Claus, jolly red circular cheeks, tiny gold frames that sit on the tip of his button nose, and the kindest blue eyes you've ever seen, Santa puts down his big red bag and spots the cookies. Mmmmm.

He makes a beeline for the baked goods and takes a bite, but as he chomps he notices that something isn't kosher. Or rather it is. His eyes snap to a menorah, a dreidel, mannicheves, latkes, unwrapped socks, a black amex, and finally Bernie, who is now wide awake. Santa stares back at her in confusion until his list magically flies up. It smacks him on the hand, unscrolls, and floats before him. As Santa inspects the list, he sees the check twice boxes empty.

He shakes his head and gives a belly laugh. Ho ho ho ho ho! Always check twice! Bernie, frozen on the other side of the couch, tries to reason with herself. I'm dreaming. Santa inspects his list further. Oh, Kringle, you're at the wrong house. I'm stoned?

Better get this Nintendo next door tootsweet. But I didn't have a cookie. She notices the half-bitten cookie. Did I? She did not, but Santa did. It's about to go up the chimney when that shit hits. We smash Zoom into Santa's eye and go on a galactic journey through candy cane fields and snowflakes galore.

The snowflakes take the form of stars of David. A menorah rushes to the forefront, and a loaned hand lights the first candle. Benjamin's floating head appears. Miracle one! Go full latke and get fried! We are sucked out of Santa's eye. He's a frozen statue, unable to speak or move. Excuse me? Hello? Mister?

Santa's stoic. Bernie grabs a cheese knife from a nearby charcuterie and points it at Santa. Listen, man. I don't know if you're like a John Wayne Gacy, except instead of clowns you do like a Santa thing. But my finger is on my lady walk app, and if you don't leave, I'll release a John Wayne Gacy, except instead of clowns, you do like a Santa thing. But my finger is on my LadyWalk app, and if you don't leave, I'll release it. And cops will be here pronto. Santa has no reaction.

Bernie stares at him nervously until Santa's scroll begins to glow and vibrate. What the? The list magically presents itself to Bernie. She sees etch a sketched images of her neighbor Phil's Von Trapp son unwrapping a Nintendo Switch. A flashing title reads,

UNDELIVERED. Nintendo Switch? How did you know? An error sign flashes reading, WRONG HOUSE. Jew. The list magically scrolls up and flies back to Santa, burrowing into his jacket. Holy fuck.

He's real, you're real. It's true, it's all true. It's beautiful. Oh my God. You're Santa. Bernie notices the cookie crumbs in Santa's beard and remembers he ate the edible. I drugged Santa. I drugged Santa. Oh no. I already ruined Hanukkah. I can't ruin Christmas. I'm a Jewish Grinch.

Okay. Okay. He's just a little stoned. What do I do when I'm too fried? Snacks! Bernie picks up some brie and runs over to him. Cheese, Mr. Claus? She tries to feed him, but it falls to the floor. Too stoned to eat? Been there, okay, no problem.

Cold water! Bernie rushes to the fridge and fills up a glass of ice water, but when she tries to make Santa drink, it slops down his mouth. Come on, Santa! Work with me here! She dips her fingers into the water and splashes him repeatedly.

Nothing. A gust of wind howled. Fresh air. Yeah, always sobers me up. Okay, so how do you, um... Bernie gestures to the chimney. Front door. Front door is good.

Time jump. Santa's arms are now draped over Bernie's shoulders as she attempts to drag him to the door. Front door is good. Time jump. Santa's arms are now draped over Bernie's shoulders as she attempts to drag him to the door. Almost there. Okay, I can do it. No, no, I need a break. Okay, let's just rest for a minute. Bernie props Santa upright. He balances for a moment until he slowly falls backwards

and breaks the coffee table. Glass shatters and food flies. I killed Santa. Santa's eyes squint open. He smiles, feeling fine. Oh, thank God. Good sign, good sign. Bernie tugs on Santa's hands, trying to get him up.

Come on! A little wind on your face and you'll be right. It's raining to deliver happiness to the youth of the world and I will in no way have hindered it. Bernie grabs Santa's belt to hoist him up and notices the buckle is actually a button reading push. Feels unspecific. Bernie pushes the button. Suddenly a magnetic force begins to suck Santa

towards the chimney. Bernie tangled up with Santa becomes Christmas cocktail. Bernie. Tangled up with Santa becomes Christmas cocktail. Bernie tangled up with Santa becomes Christmas roadkill. She flies backwards. She hits her head on the ground. She's dragged, getting third degree rug burns. Bernie claws at the rug, but it's no use. The rug goes with. In a last ditch effort to save her skin, Bernie throws her arms out, stopping herself at the base, but it's no use. The rug goes with. In a last-ditch effort to save her skin, Bernie throws her arms out, stopping herself

at the base of the chimney. After a brief moment of resignation, Bernie looks straight into the barrel for our first... Oy! Bernie gets sucked up the chimney. Bricks and soup explode out, destroying the living room. Exterior roof, seconds later. Santa and Bernie are shot out of the chimney onto the snowy roof.

Bernie lands face down, ass up, looking like a Jewish schmuck. Santa has landed perfectly in the sleigh. Bernie gets up and takes in the sleigh's majestic glory. She runs her fingers along the cranberry paint and velvety upholstery. She travels down the reins to nine noble reindeer. Bernie's smile is ear to ear. This is real life magic. Wow. This is...I can't believe it. It's a freaking fairy tale.

You truly fly around and make the world a better place by spreading pure Christmas cheer. Bernie realizes Santa has passed out asleep. Drool city. Right. I weep roofied Santa. Bernie attempts to wake him, but he's out cold. She takes a deep breath, climbs into the sleigh, and leans her head on his shoulders. Father Christmas? Your Majesty?

I don't want to be the person who makes it all about themselves, but I will not come back from this. Jews specialize in guilt, and if my drug habit single-handedly takes down Christmas, it will be bleak for me, okay? It will be rough. Bernie turns to Santa's cheek, desperately whispering so close to his face. Antisemitism? All time high right now.

Jews don't have helifans in the best of times times so it cannot be my fault that Christmas doesn't happen? Santa! Wake up! Come on Santa! Handle your shit! Bernie has taken Santa's lifeless arms and is waving them in the air. From the streets below, Bernie's neighbor, Phil and his Von Trapp son, are walking home from caroling. They spot Bernie from afar with Santa and assume he's a decoration look at that no more dark house on the block so glad you're finally decorating and getting into the spirit back on the roof the Santa? You sure are taking your tinsel time getting to those orphans in Indiana. Is everything plum pudding over there? Orphans?

She grabs the radio. Uh, hello? Hi? This is my... My name is Bernie Gold and there's, um, a slight situation here with the Saint Nick... with Santa. An interruption of elves comes through the radio. A situation? Bitches, Ago. Put Santa on. Santa is asleep.

Asleep? He never sleeps. He's a Christmas vampire. Santa went to the wrong house, my house, and some stuff went down, and now he is basically not good to go. You ruined Christmas! What did you do to Santa?

You will be remembered for only this! No, no, no. It's not ruined. I didn't ruin. I can help. I can fix it. He's not good to go, but I'm good to go. Just tell me how to. Enough!

You've done enough. OK, having deja vu. The head elf, Sotnik, takes over. Just turn the sleigh onto autopilot and bring Santa back to the North Pole. I can do that. Uh, where is autopilot? Bernie looks at the dashboard, which is old school, meters and dials galore with confusing symbols.

Quit scrouching around! Saint Nick's on a strict schedule. We've already lost Indiana. And who knows how long it'll take to get Santa feeling pine once he's here. Christmas may be lost for some, but not all if you move your fit Christmas hand. Okay. Okay. Feels like you spent a lot of time yelling at me when you could have just told me where

to look. Find it! Okay, okay, I'm sorry. This is not a normal situation. Wait, wait. I think I found it. Bernie spots a hidden lever under the dash with a symbol that looks like Santa on a roller coaster. Bernie's hand hovers over the lever, thinking,

So should I come with to make sure that he's? No! That would make no frankincense! This is clearly your fault, because before you, Bernie Gold, Santa never went silent night on the job. You clearly bring bad tidings. Bernie, a nerve-struck, sits back from the lever. You better turn the fudging autopilot on right now! Bernie flips off the radio and has an epiphany.

Holy shit. This is one of Eve's signs. Everything happens for a reason. I'm not buying that on the night I ruined my holiday, you show up just so I can ruin yours. That's like, two on the nose. Bernie turns to an asleep Santa as she continues to hunt down her theory.

I don't think you came to my house by accident. You're Santa. Your whole thing is believing in people. I think, I don't actually know. I grew up on John Lovett's, not Rudolph, but maybe you're here because no one in my life believes in me. Bernie gets some moxie. But they're wrong, aren't they, Santa? All right, I'm gonna try. I can pull this off.

I mean, I can't let a bunch of Indiana orphans wake up disappointed because of me. I'm not going down in history as a worse Jew than not in Yahoo. Bernie grabbed Santa's lifeless hand. OK. I'll follow the light. Let's do this.

Let's go save Christmas. End of episode one. Woo! Yeah. That was cool. Merry did you know that you're a baby boy? Text alert from Mom. I pulled out the dining room leaf so you wouldn't scratch it like you did last time.

That was so good. That was incredible. I do hope those jump. That's incredible. I'm so used to it. She sounds that way all the time.