Bethany:
Is your house on fire, Clark? Clark Griswold: No, Aunt Bethany,
those are the christmas lights.
Clark: Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something
to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave
you for dead? Cousin Eddie: Naw, I'm doing just fine, Clark.
Cousin Eddie: If that cat had nine lives it sure used 'em
all.
Clark W. Griswold: Where do you think you're going? Nobody's
leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned
family Christmas. No, no! We're all in this together. This
is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here! We're
gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest
Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking
Kaye! And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that
chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes
this side of the nuthouse!
[Todd and Margo Chester, the Griswold's yuppie neighbors,
appear.] Todd: Hey Griswold! Where do you think you're gonna
put a tree that big? Clark Griswold: Bend over and I'll
show you. Todd: You've got a lot of nerve talking to me
like that Griswold. Clark Griswold: I wasn't talking to
you.
Clark W. Griswold: Hey! If any of you are looking for any
last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank
Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought
from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane
with all the other rich people and I want him brought right
here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look
him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap,
lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking,
dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking,
dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass,
bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack
of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah!
