[Chipeska is seen arguing with a man who had been the Chamberlain's Santa for years.]
Bob Chipeska:
Harrison, will you listen please? Financially--
Fired Santa:
Well, you get what you paid for, Chipeska. Five Christmases I've been here, and now you flip me for some stranger who'll do it for peanuts and happens to work with a real midget. Well, let me tell you something, though: nobody cares! Nobody comes for the elf; Santa's the main attraction. I do Burl Ives songs. Does this schmoe even play guitar?
Bob Chipeska:
Look, Harrison, it's not about the money or the midget. Believe me if it was-- I don't think they like the term midget. I think you're supposed to call them--
Fired Santa:
Oh, just forget it! [Walks away as Willie and Marcus enters the store, then yells to them] Hacks!
Bob Chipeska:
[to Marcus and Willie] Hi. Bob Chipeska. Welcome. Great photo and resumè by the way.
Marcus:
Thanks. You know, we've been at this for a long time and all, so we like to think we do a good job.
Bob Chipeska:
I'm so glad you two can come at such a short notice. You two are perfect for this job, truly.
[Willie drones out the conversation between Bob and Marcus, eyeing a woman's ass as she walks]
Bob Chipeska:
So, I don't want his unpleasantness affect your performance in any way.
Marcus:
Oh, no, we--
Willie:
Performance?
Bob Chipeska:
Yes. Your performance. You know, the...
Willie:
Performance, like, sexual?
[Bob looks up at Willie in confusion]
Bob Chipeska:
Excuse me?
Marcus:
Willie.
Willie:
Are you saying there's something wrong with my gear? Is that what you're saying to me?
Bob Chipeska:
I'm sorry, your gear?
Marcus:
Willie...
Willie:
My fuck stick!
[Bob makes a shocked and disgusted look, Marcus quickly saves the situation by shoving Willie]
Marcus:
Willie, take a seat. You know how your blood sugar is.
Bob Chipeska:
He's not going to say "fuck stick" in front of the children, is he?
Marcus:
No! It was just a joke. An adult joke for us adults. It's a joke. Just a joke.