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INT. SANTA’S WORKSHOP
(SANTA oversees elves working hard to make toys. Nothing could possibly ruin this scene of Christmas magic.)
SANTA: Good work, everyone! Nothing could possibly ruin this scene of Christmas magic.
(Suddenly, the lights dim and everything shakes as a meteor streaks overhead!)
EXT. NIGHT THE NORTH POLE—LATER
(Two ELVES approach a smoking crater. RUFUS, a street-smart elf with “urban” flair, follows reluctantly.)
RUFUS: Yo, let’s bounce. This ain’t right.
ELF 1: But what if it’s filled with candy?
ELF 2: Do you think it’s weird we don’t have names?
(Suddenly, two FACE-HUGGERS leap out of the crater!)
ELVES 1 AND 2: Ahhh!
RUFUS: Aw, hell naw!
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EXT. NIGHT THE CANDY CANE FOREST
(A red glow shines in the near distance. SANTA approaches it.)
SANTA: Rudolph? Is that you?
(PREDATOR decloaks, revealing the glow to be his targeting laser!)
SANTA: Gulp.
(PREDATOR fires, hitting an ALIEN right behind SANTA!)
SANTA: Maybe I can put you on the “Nice” list after all.
PREDATOR: Thanks, Santa. Also, I talk now.
(SANTA and PREDATOR shake hands.)
PREDATOR: Let’s give these aliens what for.
(RUFUS pops out from behind a candy cane.)
RUFUS: Damn, son! This shit just got real!
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INT. SANTA’S WORKSHOP
(The workshop is now an alien nest. SANTA, MRS. CLAUS, and RUFUS are cocooned to the wall. Alien eggs sit in front of them. Nearby, PREDATOR wrestles with the ALIEN QUEEN!)
SANTA: Hurry, Predator! There’s not much time!
(The QUEEN’s got PREDATOR on the ropes, when—BLAM!—the ALIEN explodes in a cloud of goo. A SILHOUETTED FIGURE enters the room holding a smoking plasma rifle.)
PREDATOR: Jesus! Took you long enough.
JESUS: Sorry. Traffic was a bitch.
(JESUS throws a rifle to PREDATOR.)
JESUS: You ready to party like it’s my birthday?
PREDATOR: Is Christmas considered a deadweight loss under modern microeconomic theory?
(The pair coolly cock their rifles.)
RUFUS: Now that’s what I’m talking about!