The Year Without a Santa Claus

Snow Miser:
So, Mrs. C., how's your hubby?

Mrs. Santa:
Not too good, Snowy, he's got a bad cold.

Snow Miser:
Aw, that's a shame. He should've come to see me, I'd've given him a good one. HO HA HO... a little chilly humor, there.

Heat Miser:
Oh, some like it hot, but I like it REALLY hot.

Santa Claus:
All right. What are you up to?

Mrs. Santa:
Up to? Do I look like I'm up to something?

Santa Claus:
No, you don't look like you're up to something, but whenever you look like you're not up to ANYTHING, you're up to something.

Mrs. Santa:
No fighting, you two.

Snow Miser:
Well, if I can't have any fun I might as well leave.

Snow Miser:
Don't be such a stranger. Come around with your husband, we'll have a blizzard. Ha ha ha ha.

Heat Miser:
Well, well, Mrs. Claus. How's your husband doing? Out doing another commercial for my brother?

Mrs. Santa:
Oh come now. You know he's not on your brother's payroll.

Mrs. Santa:
Would you mind doing us a favor?

Heat Miser:
I don't see why I should. No one ever does anything for me. What is it?

Mrs. Santa:
Could you let it snow in the south for one day?

Heat Miser:
WHAT? SNOW IN THE SOUTH?

Mrs. Santa:
Just for one day?

Heat Miser:
NEVER. [thinks for a few seconds] Hmmm... unless of course... there was... you know... something in it for me?

Dr. Bobbin:
And for what? Just to deliver presents to a bunch of folks who don't give a hoot in the first place.

Mrs. Santa:
Now, now, Doctor. It's not just presents and you know it. What about all that Christmas spirit and good will?

Dr. Bobbin:
If you had any sense, you'd give it up as a bad job and stay home in bed this year.

Mrs. Santa:
Oh come now, if Santa stayed home, why there would be no Christmas.

Dr. Bobbin:
Who cares? Nobody cares about Christmas anymore.

Santa Claus:
They don't?

Dr. Bobbin:
Of course not. Wouldn't surprise me none if nobody even believed in you anymore.

Mrs. Santa:
Now Santa, don't you pay him any mind.

Dr. Bobbin:
Nobody cares a hoot and a holler for you or Christmas. Oh by the way, Merry Christmas to you.

Jingle Bells:
[answers the phone] Hello? Jingle Bells, number 1 elf speaking. May I ask who is calling please? Oh, hi, Mrs. Claus. Yes, Mrs. Claus. Okay, Mrs. Claus. Sure thing, Mrs. Claus. Right away, Mrs. Claus. [hangs up]

Jangle Bells:
Who was that?

Jingle Bells:
That was... Ooh.

Snow Miser's Men:
He's Mister White Christmas, he's Mister Snow. He's Mr. Icicle, he's Mister 10 below.

Snow Miser:
Friends call me Snow Miser, whatever I touch turns to snow in my clutch. I'm too much.

Heat Miser's Men:
He's Mister Green Christmas. He's Mister Sun. He's Mister Heat Blister. He's Mister Hundred-and-One.

Heat Miser:
They call me Heat Miser. Whatever I touch starts to melt in my clutch. I'm too much.