Santa's Slay

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Santa's Slay is a 2005 Christmas black comedy horror film that stars former professional wrestler Bill Goldberg as Santa Claus. The movie was written and directed by David Steiman.

He's making a list... pray you're not on it. (taglines)

Santa Claus[edit]

  • I'm just here to spread a little Yuletide fear!
  • Move, move out the way bitch!
  • Ho ho ho - hoes!
  • I see you've met my Hell-deer.
  • Christmas sometimes scares the Dickens out of people!
  • Christmas is only over - when I say it's over!
  • Uh oh, Grandpa got run over by a reindeer, heh heh heh!
  • Who's next?

Nicolas Yuleson[edit]

  • I don't mean to be disrespectful, but what the Hell is that?
  • What's that, The Necronomicon?
  • All I wanted was an Optimus Prime set.
  • I shall never take the name of the Lord in vain again!

Grandpa Yuleson/Angel[edit]

  • Fear not, Nicolas, you are forgiven.
  • (in Enochian) Still spinning your wheels, spawn of Satan?
  • I'm roasting down here!
  • It looks like I can't go further.


Nicolas: Why have you always hated Christmas?
Grandpa: Santa, he hasn't always been the jolly elf.

(opening lines)
Beth: I'm real excited about this year.
Taylor: I love that shop in the chain store set.
Gwen: Settle for nothing less than productive.
Virginia: Gwen, don't you be telling my kids that, I'm trying to teach them some values! You're getting the cakes paid.
Jason: Hey, I was wondering, from big old Santa...
Gwen: Just a thankful husband.
(Everybody laughs)
Virginia: What's the second thing she wants?
(Gwen glares at her)
Mr Mason: You know what I'm thinking, angel?
Virginia; What, darling?
Mr Mason: I was thinking, to God, don't let this bird (turkey) taste like a shindig like it did last year. Let it be tender and moist just for once.
Virginia; Yeah, moist, that would be nice. It's called foreplay.
Mr Mason: I don't want to screw the bird, I want to eat it! I should've handled this turkey from last year.
(The dog jumps up on Taylor)
Taylor: Hi, Squibbles. Here, carrot.
Mr Mason: (sighs) Squibbles!?
Gwen: Here, tiger. (Gives Jason some dinner) Two potatoes...
Jason: Mm, that's good.
Virginia: (Jason's fondling her) Mmm, big boy. (Gasps)
Mr Mason: Listen you half-a-fag, I'll stick this fork in your eye! Why don't you beg Santa for a pair of balls!?
Virginia: Beth - say grace!
Beth: Dear Lord, thank You for the bountiful food You have provided for us, and thank You for letting our family be together this Christmas - also, thank You for not making us poor, or smarmy - (Jason gives a WTF look at Gwen) and give us no cause to be like those who are less fortunate... or clever. (Dog barks)
(Chimney suddenly rumbles and the dog runs over. Dust falls and everyone turns round. Suddenly booted feet come down the chimney and Santa himself lands down with a shout and smashes the chimney apart.)
Taylor: My stocking!
Virginia: Santa... heeeh?
Santa Claus: Yes, Virginia - there is a Santa Claus!
(The dog barks annoyingly and so Santa kicks it into the ceiling fan. It flies back into the chimney. Santa then leaps forward)
Santa: Ha!
(He stabs Mr Mason's hands to the table with a knife and fork and then he makes Taylor faint and fall back onto the sharp spikes of the fire. Beth slides under the table and Santa drinks some whisky)
Virginia: What are you doing? No Santa!
Santa breathes whisky through a cigar and it ignites Virginia's hair)
Jason: Hey? You want some? (He makes fighting moves, but Santa kicks him into a glass case where he dies)
Virginia: No Santa, what are you doing?
(Santa grabs Virginia and drowns her in eggnog)
Gwen: I've been good!
(Santa grabs a table leg and kills Gwen with it. She falls on the floor. Next Beth tries to run but Santa throws the star on the tree in her back. Then he goes over to Mr Mason and shoves a turkey leg down his throat, suffocating him.)

Nicolas: (reading from The Book of Klaus) The townspeople would have a mass of Christ, or a Christ-mas, where they would pray to their Lord. One year, God sent one of His angels down from the Heavens. The angel took the form of an old man. He encountered the young, ill-tempered Santa not far from his home. Santa was ice-fishing with his elves on a frozen lake. Knowing the Santa was a gambling sort, the angel challenged him to a contest. The contest was a simple one: Who could slide a rock across the lake and land it closest to the ice fissure, without the rock falling in. If Santa won the contest, he would deliver the old man to his father for an eternity of pain and suffering! If the old man won the contest, Santa would not only have to cease the Day of Slaying for the next thousand years - but would also have to turn the other Day of Slayings into a Day of Joy. Santa thought this was as close to a close shave as could be - there was no way a mere mortal was going to defeat him in anything! Santa was so sure of himself that he went first! His rock landed as close as it could be to the hole without going in. Next it was the old man's turn. The old man's rock slid slowly along. It came to rest touching Santa's rock with just enough momentum to push Santa's stone all the way into the hole! The old man had won.
(Nicolas looks over some illustrations in the Book)
Nicolas: Shit. That was exactly one thousand years ago! The bet's over.

Mary: Where are you now?
Nicolas: I'm at the police station; can you come and pick me up? I've got to go.
Officer: They'll see you now.
(Nicolas walks in and sees the cop dressed as Santa)
Nicolas: Not on your day of pay roll.
Officer: We had an eyewitness account that says you saw a man dressed in a Santa suit leaving the place at the same time you arrived.
Nicolas: ...Captain, this might be something that pre-dates all of us. Santa Clause is not a myth or a legend; he's real - only he's not bearing gifts or presents any more!
(cop rolls his eyes)
Cop: Son, are you saying Santa is offing everyone who's not been very nice?
Nicolas: That's exactly what I'm saying Captain! (he pulls out his Grandpa's clock) Here.
Cop: Gee, Nicolas, that's a swell clock, but why should I give a damn what time it is in Green-wich?
(he doesn't give a damn where Greenwich is)
Nicolas: Well I figured we'd have until 7 p.m., like midnight at the Pole, the Pole's time-zone is exactly the same time as Greenwich mean time! 7 p.m. is when all the madness should end, and Christmas will be officially over, for Santa. Maybe.
Cop: ...Well thanks for the lesson there sport but I do know how to tell the time. I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE ABOUT SANTA.
  • Nicolas: But my grandfather thinks that...
Cop: OH... THE GRANDFATHER! That's all I need to hear.
Nicolas: Please just listen to -
Cop: You're as nutty as he is - thank you for completely wasting my fucking time!
Nicolas: I know it sounds crazy but you have to believe me!
Cop: (walks round his desk to him brandishing a baton) Leave now, or I won't have you committed to the forum at Northville!
Nicolas: (stands to leave) FINE! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED! (slams the door)
(on the way out two cops are talking)
Cop 1: These killings are all forming the shape of a giant Christmas tree. Maybe... the next killing will be right here. (puts pin in where the angel on the tree goes) Like, the star on the tree. That, a Christmas tree killing! (laughs)
Cop 2: I don't know... looks more like an irregular polygram. A geometrically enclosed shape. See, its made up of joining line segments. (Nods wisely and Cop 1 just stares at him)

(To get away, Nicolas shines a light in Santa's face)
Santa Claus: I'm Santa Claus, not fucking Dracula!
(he's about to strike when he sees a glow in the ice rink. He turns round and Grandpa is there, revealed as an angel.)
Grandpa: (in angelic tongue) Still spinning your wheels, spawn of Satan?
Santa: I haven't heard that name in years!
Mary: Your grandpa... he's a guardian angel?
Nicolas: Oh my God, I shall never take the name of the Lord in vain again.
Grandpa: Fear not, Nicolas, you are forgiven. Like I say, the practical gifts are always the best!

(Clock strikes)
Nicolas: The clock just struck midnight at the Pole. Christmas is officially over for you Santa!
Santa: You know, most people make the same mistake. The correct time at the Pole is completely discretionary because the Poles are where all the time zones actually converge.
Mary: He's scary yet educational.
Santa So what I'm saying nitwits, is that Christmas is over when I say it's over.


  • He's making a list... pray you're not on it.
  • Spreading holiday fear this Christmas.


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