Santa: That's weird, isn't it? Puppets: Uh-oh! Santa: These fit yesterday, didn't they? Abby: Hot cocoa for you, Santa. Bernard: This is not a good time, Abby. Abby: I sent Dasher down for some Brazilian cocoa beans. Santa: What's the bad news? Abby: [smiling] What do you mean? Santa: Whenever you play the designer bean card, generally, you have bad news. [Abby's smile fades, and he gives Santa the naughty-and-nice list] What are you doin' with the naughty-and-nice list? Abby: Just don't shoot the messenger. [Santa opens the naughty-and-nice list] It's... Charlie. Santa: Sheen? I thought he straightened out? Abby: Not that Charlie. Santa: My Charlie? My son, Charlie? He is on the naughty list? Puppets: [shocked] AAAAAAH! [they hide] Santa: This is-- There's gotta be a mistake. Abby: We don't make mistakes. I'm sorry, Santa. Please excuse me. Santa: How could this happen? Is this what you were trying to tell me? Curtis: Great! You told him! Good! Let's get you dressed for that meeting. Santa: I can't have the meeting here. I'm gonna have to see Charlie. Bernard: Number two, tell him now. Santa: Tell me what, guys? Come on. Come clean now. Curtis: Santa, there's a clause. Santa: Yeah, and that would be me. Curtis: No, I mean there's another Santa clause. Santa: Curtis, in case you haven't noticed, this time of year, the malls are filled with other "Santa Clauses". Curtis: Yes, but there's another Santa clause. There was a first clause, but also a second clause. Puppets: Get on with it! Curtis: When the last Santa Claus fell off your roof and you put on his coat, you found this. Santa: Right. "He who wears the coat takes on the responsibilities of Santa Claus..." Something like that, and of course, the rest would be history, right? Bernard: But it seems our number two elf, the keeper of the handbook, overlooked the single most important detail in the history of Christmas! Curtis: Wow. One mistake in 900 years. Bernard: Look. Santa: I-I can't see that. Bernard: Better now? Santa: Uh... Bernard: Or now? Santa: Well... Bernard: Better now? Santa: It's gettin' there. Bernard: Or now? Santa: I can't see anything. [Bernard flips a big magnifying glass up] I see. Good, good, good. I see it. Okay. Well, uh, "The card holder acknowledges a woman of his choosing. True Love... Not valid in," uh, "state of Utah. Holy...Matrimony"?! I gotta get married! Bernard: Yes, It's...the Mrs. Clause. [the puppets hum "The Wedding March".] Santa: What if I don't want to get married? [he starts getting thinner] Curtis: Oh, dear. The de-Santification process has begun! Santa: The de-Santification? Are you telling me that clause says if I don't get married... I don't get to be Santa any more? [worried] Wh-- What about the kids? W-- What about the elves? What a-- What about you guys? Bernard: It's not completely hopeless, sir. You still have time to find a wife. Santa: Right. Well, how much time do I have, Curtis? Curtis: 28 days. Santa: 28 days. So I've gotta find a wife by Christmas. Curtis: Actually, Christmas Eve. Santa: I guess it's over. Curtis: No! You can't think that way! Please, don't give up hope. 'Cause if you do... then we have to. [the puppets sigh sadly. Suddenly, Santa's beard shrinks, and the puppets shout in shock.] [surprised] Whoa. Santa: Christmas is getting very complicated.

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