No, sir, we do not have a "doggy bag" at this establishment.

Another long one.  I like it.  The premise kinda got lost, though, and it just becomes a scene.  I still like it, though, it has some good, small, subtle things that I normally don't write but have been trying to do more of lately.  P.S. "Eric" was written with Jason Sudeikis in mind.  It didn't start off that way, but that's what it slowly became as it progressed.  He's a pretty Sudeikis-y character.

TEN DATES

INT. FANCY RESTAURANT - NIGHT

An attractive couple, ERIC and JENNA, sit at their table at a fancy, five-star restaurant.  The waiter comes by and quickly refills their wine glasses.

ERIC

Thank you, garcon.

WAITER

Very good, sir.  Your dinners will be out shortly.

The waiter leaves.  Jenna laughs and sits up in her seat.

JENNA

"Garcon"!  I didn't know you spoke French!

ERIC

Only a little.  I don't like to show off.

JENNA

Gosh, our tenth date and I'm still learning new things about you!

ERIC

Yeah, I guess we're still feeling each other out.  Not literally yet, but--

JENNA

Haha!  You play your cards right, mister, and tonight might be the night we make lo-ove!

Jenna smiles and sips her wine.  Eric can read her obvious body language.  He leans in.

ERIC

What do you say we skip the meal and just head back to my place right now?

Jenna smiles.  She opens her mouth to answer when the waiter arrives just then with their food.  Jenna and Eric sit up as the waiter sets down their plates in front of them.  They look less than pleased at the waiter's timing but smile anyway.

WAITER

For you, sir, the roast duck in mushroom sauce.  And for the lady, the veal in marinara.

JENNA

Thanks.

ERIC

(being "smooth")

Thank you, garcon...

He winks at Jenna.  She giggles silently.  The waiter doesn't react, he tries to move on.

WAITER

You two enjoy your meal.  If there's anything else you need tonight, just let me know.

The waiter starts to leave, but Eric quickly stops him.

ERIC

Actually, is there anyway to get this to go?  Like in a doggy bag?

Jenna smiles coyly.

JENNA

(aside, to Eric)

Oh, I'm gonna "doggy bag" you...

The waiter, meanwhile, is pretty put off by Eric's lower class request.

WAITER

(extremely snooty/pretentious)

No, sir, we do not have a, quote, "doggy bag" at this establishment.

ERIC

Uh, thanks.

The waiter smiles and nods to the couple.

WAITER

Enjoy your meal.

He exits.  Eric turns to Jenna.

ERIC

Do you want to just stay and eat?  I mean, the food is here, we may as well.

JENNA

Yeah, I mean--

She smiles widely.

JENNA

--it's not like your PENIS is going anywhere!  Except in my VAGINA!  HA!

Eric smiles with wide eyes and tries to suppress a laugh.

ERIC

(gritting his teeth)

Haaa, hey, let's see how fact we can eat our dinners!

JENNA

Okay!

They both dig in with intentions of eating fast and getting out of there, but, as soon as they take a bite of their dinners, they are immediately overwhelmed by how delicious it is.

ERIC

(mouth full of food)

Oh, wow.

JENNA

This is so good!

ERIC

Seriously the best duck I've ever tasted.

They both make "yummy" noises as they continue to eat their food with slightly less urgency as before, taking in the flavor with each bite.

ERIC

I still can't wait to do things to you... but this duck is so darn tasty!

JENNA

Oh, I'm going to taste YOUR duck!

ERIC

(not paying attention)

Do what now?  Alright.

They continue to try to simultaneously eat fast and savor the food.  Both moan at how good the food is and how horny they are.

JENNA

(moaning)

Nnnngh, seriously, I am going to destroy you.

ERIC

Me or the veal?

JENNA

(saying "both" with her mouth full)

BOF!

They continue to eat.

ERIC

God, when I get you home...

JENNA

Oh yeah, tell me, baby.

ERIC

I'm just gonna... Mmm... This duck is so tender!

JENNA

Come on!

ERIC

Alright, alright, let's get serious!

Just then, the waiter returns to the table.

WAITER

So how is everything?

ERIC

QUE MAGNIFIQUE.

JENNA

You're sure we can't wrap this up and take it home?

WAITER

(smug laugh)

No, madame, we don't cater to such lower class demands.  But if there's anything else I can help you with, just let me know.

The waiter turns and leaves while Eric and Jenna hover over their plates, they are nowhere near being done.  This is becoming work for them as they labor over the food.

ERIC

I feel like this is ruining the mood.

Jenna looks up at him with here cheeks stuffed with veal.  She's got her bedroom eyes on, not to mention a little sauce on her chin.

JENNA

The sooner we finish eating, the sooner it'll be you between my cheeks and not this veal.

ERIC

You've got--

JENNA

Between my BUTT cheeks, I mean!

Eric takes a second and then moves on.

ERIC

You've got a little something...

He motions to the sauce on her chin.  She takes her napkin and wipes it up.

JENNA

Yeah, let me wipe that sauce up.  It'll be YOUR sauce next, baby...

ERIC

Please don't incorporate the meal into your come-ons, it's really not doing it for me.

Eric is slowly losing all interest here.  He's not even eating anymore.

JENNA

Come on, finish eating!

ERIC

I'm really not into this anymore.  Let's just calm down and eat like normal.

Jenna doesn't slow down.

ERIC

No, come on, let's just have a normal meal.

Jenna continues to stuff her face.  She grabs some bread from the complimentary bread basket and munches on that between bites of veal.

ERIC

(confused)

Why would you eat the bread if you're trying to get out of here faster?

Jenna continues.  Eric looks disgusted.

ERIC

I've really lost my appetite here.

Jenna doesn't look up for this one.

JENNA

I've still got an appetite for you.

ERIC

Yeah...

The waiter approaches again.

WAITER

And how is everything?

ERIC

Can we just get the check?

WAITER

Are you sure?  It doesn't look like the lady is finished.

Jenna takes a deep breath and continues to put it away.

ERIC

I'm sure.  Just the check, please.

WAITER

Very well.  I'll be just a moment.

The waiter exits.  Eric just looks at Jenna as she pigs out.  She takes one last lazy bite and sits up.

ERIC

Some veal, huh?  We'll have to remember this place.

No response.  Jenna doesn't look so good, she kinda stares off blankly.

ERIC

Are you okay--

She spits up a little on herself.

ERIC

(horrified)

Oh, boy.

Jenna still looks out of it, she ate way too much way too fast.  Eric looks uncomfortable.

ERIC

I'm just going to leave my credit card with you, I'll get it back eventually.

He stands to leave.

ERIC

I really don't know why you finished your whole meal, you really didn't have to--

Jenna suddenly snaps out of it.

JENNA

Wait!

ERIC

Yeah?

JENNA

(groggily)

You speak French, right?  The language of love?

ERIC

We've established that, yes.

JENNA

Voulez-vous---

ERIC

(realizing what's going on here)

No.

JENNA

--Coucher--

ERIC

No.

JENNA

--A vec moi--

ERIC

No, not at all.

JENNA

--Ce soir?

ERIC

No.  Tonight?  Definitely not tonight.  I'll call you.

Just then, the waiter returns with the check.

ERIC

Oh, as long as you're here...

He hands his credit card to the waiter.

ERIC

Quickly, please.

The waiter looks confused at what's going on, then "realizes" as he smiles knowingly.

WAITER

Ah, yes, sir.  I won't hold up your love-making session any longer than I have to.

ERIC

(repulsed)

What in the-- No, that's not... Oh, dear...

He catches a glimpse of Jenna.  She looks terrible.

ERIC

Oh, dear.  Are you alright?

Jenna looks up at him.

JENNA

Remember when we wanted a doggy bag?

ERIC

Yes...?

Jenna motions for him to come closer.  He does.  Then:

JENNA

(whispering)

I want you to put it in my doggy bag...

Eric is instantly repulsed.

ERIC

I take it back, I WON'T be calling you.

The waiter returns with Eric's credit card and the receipt to sign.  Eric signs very quickly and sloppily.

ERIC

Goodnight!

He quickly exits.  The waiter looks confused.  Jenna looks groggy.  She looks up at him.

JENNA

Well... Do YOU want to have sex with me?

The waiter looks completely disgusted.

WAITER

(repulsed)

Madame, please.  At Olive Garden, you're family.

BLACK OUT.

Ringo, no! Ringo, why?!

This is a really long one.  I actually wrote it a good two weeks ago, re-wrote the ending last week, and am only now posting it.  The "Scrambled Eggs" song and its first two lines are actually real, the rest is made up (obviously).  Who doesn't enjoy a little Beatles humor? (You tell me who right now, I'll kill 'em!!)

INT. RECORDING STUDIO

Three of the Beatles (John, George, Ringo) sit in the recording studio noodling around on their instruments and intermittently checking their watches.  They are dressed in the generic black Beatles suits.  Producer George Martin sits behind the glass in the production room.

JOHN

Any word yet, George?

GEORGE MARTIN

Not at all, John.

Just then, Paul finally comes running into the studio with his acoustic guitar and lyric sheet.  The other three Beatles look up at his with exasperated looks on their faces.

GEORGE HARRISON

It's about time!

PAUL

Sorry, George, I was working on this new tune.  It's the strangest thing, it actually came to me in a dream.

JOHN

That's great, Paul.  We've only been waiting for you for three bleedin' hours is all.

PAUL

Sorry again, John, I just had to get this down on paper while it was still fresh in me head.

GEORGE HARRISON

Alright, well, let's hear it.

PAUL

(unsure)

I don't know, I only just wrote it--

JOHN

C'mon, Paul, we've been waiting all day!

PAUL

It still needs some tweaking--

Paul cuts himself off as he gets a look at Ringo behind the drum kit.  Ringo is holding the sides of his face and looks like he could cry like a baby.  He is a spitting image of the painting "The Scream."

PAUL

(concerned)

No, Ringo!  I'll play, I'll play!

Ringo cheers up a little but looks apprehensive.  George H. comforts him while Paul sits down at a nearby stool with his guitar and puts his lyrics on the podium in front of him.  He strums the guitar lightly to make sure it's in tune.

PAUL

This is really my first run of the tune, but I think it's pretty good.

GEORGE MARTIN

What's it called?

PAUL

Oh, the title is "Scrambled Eggs."

Everyone looks around like that is the dumbest thing they've ever heard.

JOHN

You made us wait three hours so you could write a song about breakfast?  Are you mental?

PAUL

No, it's not about that at all!  I was actually inspired by the Vietnam War when I wrote this.

JOHN

Interesting...

GEORGE HARRISON

Get on with it then.

PAUL

Okay, okay.

Paul sits up and gets ready to play.  George Martin puts on his headphones in the booth.

GEORGE MARTIN

"Scrambled Eggs," take one.

Paul begins to strum the tune of the Beatles' song "Yesterday."  The lyrics he sings, however, are definitely not "Yesterday."

PAUL

(singing)

Scrambled eggs/Oh baby how I love your legs/And when I sit and eat my scrambled eggs/I look at you/And see your legs

The other Beatles and George Martin look at each other in shock and disbelief.  Paul continues.

PAUL

Suddenly/There are scrambled eggs in front of me--

GEORGE MARTIN

Alright, let's cut it right there.

Paul stops playing.

PAUL

What's the problem, George?  Is the microphone picking up background?

He turns and glares at the other three Beatles.

GEORGE MARTIN

No, it's just that--

JOHN

The song is shit, mate.

PAUL

(shocked)

What?

GEORGE HARRISON

Absolute shit.

PAUL

You're joking.  Ringo?

Ringo slowly gives Paul two thumbs way down.

PAUL

(extremely upset)

Ringo, no!

Ring, with both thumbs still down, shakes his head in disapproval.

PAUL

Ringo, why?!

He turns to face all of his bandmates.

PAUL

C'mon, fellas, I've only sung one verse.  At least let me get through the whole song!

JOHN

Does it at least pick up from here?

PAUL

It does!

JOHN

Finish your song.

Paul smiles and starts to set back up.

PAUL

(extremely smug)

Oh, and keep your ears open for any possible socio-political metaphors I might have peppered in the next few verses.

There is no reaction from anyone as Paul continues to grin like a douche.

GEORGE MARTIN

Let's take it from the second verse.  "Scrambled Eggs," take two.

Paul starts playing again, picking up where he left off.

PAUL

Suddenly/There are scrambled eggs in front of me/Obscuring view of legs I'd see/If these eggs weren't in front of me

Everyone is rolling their eyes out of control.  Paul doesn't notice as he takes the song to the bridge.

PAUL

Who served these eggs to me?/I don't know, I didn't see/Whose are those legs I see?/I don't know, they weren't of me-e-e-e/Scrambled eggs--

GEORGE MARTIN

(so done with this)

Cut it there.

PAUL

(innocently)

What's the problem?  Did I hit a stray note on me guitar?

GEORGE HARRISON

(pissed)

It's the song, mate.  It's bollocks!

PAUL

(hurt)

What?!

George H., John, and Ringo walk over to Paul and surround him.

PAUL

You all are being pretty close-minded about this one.

John reaches for the lyrics sheet.

JOHN

Let me read the rest of this.

He grabs the sheet just before Paul can snatch it himself.  He reads the lyrics.

JOHN

It just goes on like that!  "Eggs, legs, eggs, legs."  Are you mental?

PAUL

Hey, just because you lot are too daft to understand the meaning of my song--

GEORGE HARRISON

What's there to get?  It's nonsense!

GEORGE MARTIN

(calmly)

If I could be an objective voice in the room...

PAUL

Yes, George, please.

A beat.  George collects himself.  Then:

GEORGE MARTIN

The song sucks dog dick.

PAUL

What?!

Paul faces Ringo, who has yet to react.

PAUL

Ringo?

A beat.  Ringo slowly frowns at Paul.

PAUL

(extremely upset)

Ringo, no!  Ringo, why?!

JOHN

Come on, then, the tune is okay.  If we get some better words to it--

PAUL

(reluctantly)

I do have some alternate lyrics...

JOHN

Yeah, then let's see those.

Paul reluctantly pulls a folded lyrics sheet out of his pants pocket and hands it to John.  John unfolds it as he and George H. read over it.  Ringo stares off into the distance.

JOHN

(reading)

"Yesterday..."

GEORGE HARRISON

Okay, these are passable.

JOHN

Slightly less terrible than "Eggs My Legs" or whatever.

PAUL

(correcting him)

"Scrambled Eggs."

JOHN

"Scrabble Legs" or whatever--

PAUL

SCRAMBLED.  EGGS.

JOHN

Yeah, that.  Let's use these instead.

He hands the sheet back to Paul, who snatches it out of his hand.

PAUL

You know, I don't think you all are getting the metaphorical value of the lyrics to "Scrambled Eggs."

John and George H. are dumbfounded.

GEORGE HARRISON

We're all ears, Paul.

JOHN

Yeah, spell it out for us, professor.  What is the social commentary meant behind "Scrambled eggs, oh baby how I love those legs"?

PAUL

I'm glad you finally asked, I've been dying to share.  Let's start from the beginning.  "Scrambled eggs."  Eggs.  Birth.  Born.  Child.  BUT... scrambled?  Ah, now it gets interesting.

FADE OUT.

FADE IN.

INT. RECORDING STUDIO - Later

VOICE OVER

FOUR. HOURS. LATER.

Everyone looks so bored at this point like they could pass out at any second.  Meanwhile, Paul is rolling.

PAUL

 That's what Hitler was trying to say!  Half the time, they ARE just eggs!  BUT, if you look at the Jews through the scope of the egg ratio, a legs-worth will otherwise--

JOHN

Alright, enough!

Paul reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of papers.

PAUL

I've actually prepared a few brochures to help you all understand--

George H. knocks the papers out of Paul's hand.

GEORGE HARRISON

We get it, mate!  We ain't a Hitler Youth group, save your propaganda for your own time!

PAUL

If you would just read the pamphlets, I'm sure--

JOHN

Hey!  Save it for Nuremberg, Goebbels, we got an album to record!  Just do the song and be done with it, then you can practice all the hate speech you want out in the streets!

PAUL

It's not really hate speech so much as it's a new way of--

JOHN

Don't care!  Do the bloody tune!

PAUL

Okay, okay.  Which version shall I do?

JOHN

"Yesterday"--

PAUL

(flatly)

No.

Everyone glares at Paul.

PAUL

Okay, I can tell everyone is tired.  I'll do the bleedin' song with the "Yesterday" lyrics.

Everyone is very relieved by this declaration.

GEORGE HARRISON

Thank God!

PAUL

ON ONE CONDITION!

Everyone immediately looks horrified as Paul makes his demands.

PAUL

For the rest of the band's existence, any out-and-out retarded idea I have goes.  And believe me, if today is any indication, which it is, I have plenty of terrible ideas.

JOHN

Such as?

Paul counts his bad ideas off on his fingers as he names them.

PAUL

(smugly)

I've an idea for a concept album about a crazy carnival, an idea for a condescending ska song that might be the worst song ever recorded, I want to name that song "Ob La Di, Ob La Da" and say that several times in the song itself, I want to write roughly a million songs that would sound better if recorded in 1925--

GEORGE HARRISON

Fuckin' hell, you got a lot of bad ideas!

PAUL

AND I want to be referred to as "the Walrus."  But ONLY after it's been established that John is the Walrus so that people will think it's cool and then I'll swoop in and ride that wave.

JOHN

You are insane.

Paul begins grinning with wide-eyed glee.  John looks creeped out.

GEORGE MARTIN

Boys, I hate to be pushy, but it's four in the morning.  If we're going to do this, let's do it already.

JOHN

God.  It's up to Ringo.  Let Ringo decide.

GEORGE HARRISON

Sure, let Ringo decide.

All eyes on Ringo.  Ringo exhales deeply.  He nods in exasperation and makes a relenting gesture with his hand to show he'll go along with the idea.  Paul grins.

PAUL

Alright, let's record this ditty!

Everyone returns to their area of the studio as Paul gets ready to record his song.

GEORGE MARTIN

What's the new title again, Paul?

PAUL

"Yesterday," George.

GEORGE MARTIN

"Yesterday," take one.  And rolling!

Paul begins to play.

PAUL

(singing)

Yesterday...

BLACK OUT.

Hollywood Hoagies

Another bizarre idea.  If you don't get it after reading it, don't worry because there's an explanation into what the hell I was going for.

INT. GAME SHOW STUDIO

Generic game show studio set up like a cross between "Match Game" and "Hollywood Squares."  A panel of six thousand celebrities sit on a huge grid on one side of the room while the host and two contestants stand behind their podiums on the other side.  The camera pans over the packed studio of hundreds of audience members a la "The Price is Right."

ANNOUNCER (O.S.)

Welcome back to...

Graphic logo for "Hollywood Hoagies" appears on screen.

AUDIENCE

Hollywood!  Hoagies!

The camera whips back around to the host, Mark Billings, and  the two contestants, slowly zooming to a tighter shot.

MARK BILLINGS

That's right!  I'm Mark Billings and we're back for round two of today's game.  After round one, it looks like competition is heating up!  Let's just get right back into it.

He turns to the first contestant, Jeffrey.

MARK BILLINGS

Jeffrey, you're up!  Choose your celebrity!

Jeffrey straightens up at his podium and contemplates his choice.  After a second's thought:

JEFFREY

Gilbert Gottried.

Mark immediately turns to face the celebrity panel.

MARK BILLINGS

(unhealthy amount of enthusiasm)

Gilbert Gottfried, where are ya?!

The camera focused on the celebrity panel quickly zooms in on Gilbert Gottfried, who waves to the applauding audience.

GILBERT GOTTFRIED

I'm ready to play, Mark!

MARK BILLINGS

Alright, Gilbert, then let's just dive right in!

Mark turns to the audience.

MARK BILLINGS

(expectantly)

Audience?

AUDIENCE

Hollywood!  Hoagies!

The audience applauds wildly as Gilbert Gottfried lifts a hoagie from his podium in the panel and starts to eat it.  He's in no hurry, he may as well be eating at home.  He occasionally reaches for the mug on his podium and takes a sip.  The audience applauds at random intervals for seemingly no reason.  After about forty seconds of watching him eat:

MARK BILLINGS

Alright, Sarah, it's your turn!

The other contestant, Sarah, looks over the celebrity panel.

SARAH

(confidently)

Caroline Rhea.

Mark whips around to face the panel with complete disregard for human life.

MARK BILLINGS

Sweet Caroline!

Just as before, the camera zooms in on Caroline Rhea at her podium.

CAROLINE RHEA

Here I am!

MARK BILLINGS

And here we go!  You know what to do, audience!

AUDIENCE

Hollywood!  Hoagies!

Caroline Rhea lifts her hoagie and starts in on it just like Gilbert Gottfried did: no rush, just munching on it and occasionally taking a sip from her drink.  The audience reaction is similar, they applaud and cheer at random.  After about thirty seconds of this:

MARK BILLINGS

Let's check back in with Gilbert Gottfried.  Gilbert?

Gilbert is about halfway through his hoagie by now.  He waves and gives a thumbs up to the camera as he continues to munch away.

MARK BILLINGS

(chuckling)

Well, he's certainly enjoying himself.

Mark turns to face the camera.

MARK BILLINGS

As you can see, it's another game of Hollywood Hoagies.  Stay tuned for round three right after these commercials!

The audience applauds loudly as the camera sweeps over them and the panel of celebrities.  Upbeat theme music plays.

FADE OUT.

The "joke," if you can call it that, is that there's no game.  It's literally just celebrities eating sandwiches in some sort of game show format but with no scoring.

They smooch quickly.

It's getting better.  The writing is starting to catch back up to the ideas.  What a fun, sexy time for me.  Also, "They smooch quickly" would be a great name for a band.

EXT. STREET - DAY

Young couple in love (FRED and AMY) walk down the street arm-in-arm.  It's obvious from their body language that they're in love as they clamor all over each other on the way down the sidewalk.  It is really nauseating.  They come upon a section of the sidewalk that has beenblocked off.  A sign reads "WET CEMENT."

AMY

Oh, wet cement!  You know what we should do?

Fred

What's that?

AMY

(very childish mode of speech)

We should write our names in it in a heart and it should say "Fred and Amy FOREVER" and that way our love will go on forever!

Fred smiles.

FRED

I love it!  And I love YOU!

AMY

Aw, I love YOU!

They smooch quickly.  Fred looks around to make sure no one is looking and sneaks past the tape surrounding the wet cement.  Amy looks on in glee from outside of the blocked area as Fred kneels down to the wet cement.  He looks up at her and smiles before getting into it.  Tight shot peeking over Fred's shoulder and onto his finger as he writes:

FRED

"Fred...and...Amy...FOREVE--"

Just before he can finish, Fred is interrupted by the sound of a gunshot and blood splattering from Amy's direction all over the wet cement and Fred's hand.

BLACKOUT.

Listless

Really dumb.  Not going to try to defend it.  Just dumb.  Content-wise, I think it turned out well.  The premise is just plain stupid, though.  Oh well.  I think this would be a lot be if seen, it would play better than it does on the page.

INT. SANTA'S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY

Santa Claus sits on his couch watching television.  The house is just your average house, not adorned with a bunch of Christmas decorations or anything.  Santa is watching some generic crap, like "MAURY" or "TYRA."  He checks his watch and is surprised by the time.  He takes a breath, sits up, and turns off the television.  He stands and leaves the room.

CUT TO:

INT. SANTA'S HOUSE - bedroom

Santa sits on his bed and tries to pull his red Santa pants on.  He only has on a wife-beater undershirt and boxers at this point.  He's struggling with the pants due to his horrendous weight problem.  He has to stop at one point due to his frustration and take a deep breath before getting back into it.  He wipes the sweat from his brow.

CUT TO:

INT. SANTA'S HOUSE - FRONT DOOR

Santa has his outfit on (pants, jacket, hat).  He just needs his boots at this point.  He steadies himself with his hand against the door as he bends over and picks up his right boot.  He leans against the adjacent wall and tries to put the boot on without sitting or crouching.  He loses his balance a few times as he tries (unsuccessfully) to put his foot in the boot.  He does finally slip his foot into the top part of the boot.  He struggles a lot to get the boot completely on, losing his balance a few times.  He gets increasingly frustrated but manages to stay patient with himself.

CUT TO:

EXT. SANTA'S HOUSE - DRIVEWAY

Santa sits in his station wagon in the driveway of his house.  He lives in a typical residential area.  He looks over his shoulder to back out.  His street is a little busy today.  There is a yard sale going on across the street, several cars are parked on the street and blocking his view of possible traffic.  He slowly backs out of his driveway.  He stops short as a car zooms by.  He lays on the horn and glares at the car as it passes out of sight.  He resumes his descent out of the driveway.

CUT TO:

EXT. SANTA'S STREET

Santa sits at the stop sign at the end of his street.  There is an unbelievable amount of traffic on the main road in front of him.  The street is packed with cars barely even moving.  He starts to inch out into the nearest lane.  The car he is cutting off just barely lets him in.  He avoids eye contact with them.  We can see that the other driver is very upset with Santa, animatedly (and inaudibly) swearing at him from their car.  Santa sits in his car as traffic slowly eases forward.  He looks out his window and can see his destination literally around the corner: the grocery store.  His disposition quickly sours due to the ridiculous traffic.  He leans out his window to look ahead and see what the hold up is.  He quickly spots an ambulance and several police cars some thirty yards ahead of him.  He looks confused until he spots a person's arm laying in a pool of blood as it peeks out from a spot in the traffic.  Santa immediately collects himself, he is very ashamed at his behavior.  He rolls up his window and turns on the radio.  He is immediately audibly assaulted by the most obnoxious FM radio disc jockey ever.

RADIO D.J. (O.S.)

(with way too much energy)

--like a fart in a Mr. Bucket!  I'm gonna spew outta mah dong hole!  Hey, Mr. Clinton, is that a poop stain on your undies?!

A Bill Clinton soundbyte plays.

BILL CLINTON

It depends on what the meaning of the word "is" is--

Santa angrily shuts off the radio and sits in silence.  Several seconds pass.  Santa only sits and shakes his head.

CUT TO:

EXT. STORE PARKING LOT

Santa's car pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store.  The place is basically packed, he has to park towards the back of the lot.  He gets out of his car and just stares at the long walk ahead of him.  Just then, a stray shopping cart rolls into his bumper, scratching the paint.  Santa can only slump his shoulders in defeat.

CUT TO:

INT. GROCERY STORE

Santa walks through the grocery store pushing an empty shopping cart.  He is in the produce section.  He whistles  a few bars of "SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN" quietly to himself as he checks his pockets.  He starts to sing quietly.

SANTA

(quietly)

He's making a list/He's checking it...

He abruptly stops singing as he realizes that his pockets are empty.  He pads himself down as he searches for what should be in his pocket. 

SANTA

Twice...

He doesn't have anything on him.  He's forgotten his grocery list.  He drops his arms in defeat.

SANTA

(upset)

You've got to be...

Santa exhales long and hard.  He can only shake his head at himself.  He leaves his cart sitting where it is and walks out of frame.

FADE OUT.