Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (2000)

[bunniefuu]

It’s the Christmas season,

a time for telling colourful
holiday stories.

My favourite story of all time
is about my grandma.

She had this encounter with a reindeer.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

walking home from our house Christmas Eve.

You can say there’s no such thing
as Santa,

but as for me and grandpa, we believe.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer,
all right?

And as incredible as it was,
it almost put an end to Christmas.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

So let’s go back to the beginning.

It was December and everyone in Cityville
was caught up in the chaos of the holidays.

And no place was busier
than my grandma’s store.

My grandma’s store!

There it is.

Check it out.
It was a one-of-a-kind place.

She carried all kinds of stuff
year around.

She sold decorations, handmade toys –

at least one of anything you could
imagine for the holidays.

There’s grandma.

Did I mention she likes to dress up
to read Christmas stories to kids

while their parents shop?

“And the little baby Christmas tree
looked up at papa tree…” – Grandma!

And that’s me, Jake Spankenheimer.

Cousin Mel is scaring away
another customer!

You can stop right there.
That’s shoplifting, missy.

Now, what seems to be the problem?

Problem? No problem.

No money, no merchandise.

No way!

Your credit is always good here, Martha.

Why, you just stop by
when you get your next paycheck.

Thanks, grandma.
Everyone have a merry Christmas!

You, too.

Things have to change.

This store can’t get rich selling
holiday pastries on credit.

You’re not a businesswoman.
You’re an old fruitcake.

Everyone else is happy the way things are.
Right, Frank?

Beats punching a time clock
for someone else.

I like spending time with the family at work.

You see, look around you.

We are rich.

Life’s about being nice to people.

Money – ah!

I’d say we make enough.

Enough?

Enough is never enough!

A set of replacement wheels
for my rollerblades…

Adding to your Christmas wish list?

Sisters!

Ah, yeah, I thought so.

A computer nerd who still
believes in Santa Claus.

You’re so reality challenged.

Daphne, stop teasing your brother!

He started it!

Come on downstairs.
Your dad has a surprise.

Tell her, mom.

Santa Claus is real.

Well,

there’s no easy answer.

Historically, there was a saint Nick who

with a loving heart filled children’s
shoes with gifts of all sorts.

So, Santa today represents
the true meaning of Christmas –

giving to others.

Dad, is Santa Claus real?

What your mother said.

Hey, who wants to put up a tree?

Oh, right, Christmas tree!

That’s not a Christmas tree.

You’re looking at the new inflatable
Christmas tree manufactured

by the Cityville Own-all Corporation.

But our family always goes out
and gets a real tree.

Don’t you want to save the forest?

Nobody gets a tree anymore.

It’s not cool.

Wish they had Christmas trees
like that when I was a boy.

Here we go again.

We had to chop our trees down by hand.

Never forget the time I had to use
a beaver for a chain saw.

Last time you told it,
it was a woodpecker.

Okay, everyone, gather ’round your dad.

I want a video of our first
inflatable tree.

This tree is going to save lots of time.

What’s the fun in that?

Where’s the jabbing yourself
with pine needles,

hanging ornaments, the old-fashioned
smell of a genuine douglas fir?

If you like old-fashioned smells
I’ll get my fishing boots.

Oops…

Sorry.

As crazy as things were at home,

they got crazier the day I met
the most powerful man in Cityville.

– Excuse me. I’m…
– Austin Bucks!

CEO of the Cityville Own-all Corporation.

Grandma says you own everything.

Well, not yet, but that’s why
I want to speak to your grandma.

I’m sure she wants to see you.

But right now, grandma Elfen-heimer
is reading to the kids.

I heard about that.

Say, you wouldn’t happen to have
an extra elf costume I could wear?

Nope, sorry. But there’s a troll costume.

Well, grandma Elfenheimer.

Mr. Austin “Troll” Bucks.

I don’t suppose you’re dressed that way
to read “Billy Goats Gruff” to the kids.

No. I did it so you’d listen
to my offer to buy your store.

Didn’t help. Don’t want to listen.

I’ll pay a lot of money.

Ka-ching!

You’d be selling to the biggest
and the best.

Do you know why my company controls
every mall and sidewalk, Santa?

Because people are too busy
to think about Christmas.

With their cellular phones
and fax machines, e-mail

they’re never really away from work.

And you figure you’re helping.

Yes. There wouldn’t be a Cityville
Christmas without me.

Your store sits on the perfect place
to build the crown jewel of my empire.

Picture it: Gifts delivered on
Christmas Eve by our new sleighmobile.

Isn’t that what Santa does?

How cute. He still believes in
Santa Claus.

Jake, do you think
I should sell the store?

Are you kidding?

I love this place.

You with no store would be like
Christmas without Santa.

Well, there you have it –
from the mouths of babes.

Surely you’re not going to let Jake
make such a big decision.

He’s just a kid.

In case you change your mind.

Thank you.

And you can keep the troll costume.

Bye-bye.

I’ve always loved a man in tights.

Grandma, do you realize
what you just did?

You let my fortune walk out the door!

That was my future!

I mean Jake’s future –

Money for college, travel to Italy,
world cruises, sports cars, jewels…

I’d tell you to put a cork in it,
you greedy money-grubber!

But grandmas shouldn’t talk that way.

Grandma,

if this store were mine,

I’d sell it.

Cousin Mel,
this store will never be yours.

Oh, yeah!

We’ll see.

Cousin Mel was wrong.

You can keep a store going
on goodwill and baked goods.

By the looks of my house
at Christmas time

you’d think grandma was single-handedly
supplying the entire free world

with Christmas goodies.

The way I see it, you can divide
the world into two groups:

People who like fruitcake,
and all the rest of us.

The holidays were upon us
and things were going fine

till the day I heard the doorbell
and a chill ran up my spine.

I grabbed the wife and children
as the postman wheeled it in.

My yearly Christmas nightmare
has just come back again:

It was harder than the head
of uncle Bucky,

heavy as a sermon of preacher Lucky,

one’s enough to give the whole state
of Kentucky a great big bellyache.

It was denser than a drove of
barnyard turkeys,

tougher than a truckload of all-beef jerky

drier than a drought in Albuquerque –

grandma’s k*ller fruitcake.

You’re a great helper, Jake.

Now, just stir that bowl of ingredients
and it’s ready for the oven.

Grandma, Jake,
I’m afraid Doofus got out again.

I can’t find him anywhere.

Why, I wonder where that adorable dog
could have run off to this time.

Come on, Jake.

Hah! I don’t know who buys your
cakes and cookies

but this will for darn sure
make everyone sick.

That ought to stop people
from shopping at the store

and with no customers you’ll
have to sell, grandma!

Doofus was right next to the fireplace.

Must have missed him.

What were you saying?
I’d have to sell?

Oh, sell a lot, the way
these pastries taste.

Careful, grandma. Don’t drink too much
eggnog without your medication.

You’d think at my age you’d
outgrow an allergy to eggs.

Now, where’d I put those pills?

I’ve got some mistletoe and holly. Who’s
going to help me with the decorating?

– Can’t. Have to call my boyfriend.
– Sorry, grandma, got to dash to the gym.
– Uh, I’d love to, but Frank…

The game’s just starting on TV.
– I’ll help you, grandma.

My little man.

Thanks.

Nobody understood me like grandma did.

Christmas time was as important to her
as it was to me.

Well, we did it.

That’s right on the nose, Jake.

We did it.

The sooner you go to sleep,
he sooner Santa will come.

Grandma, Daphne says
here’s no such thing as Santa.

Well, that’s because she
doesn’t believe like I do.

Have you ever seen him?

No, but I’ve seen him in the smiles of people
who share with others every Christmas.

If you ever run into him, say hi for me.

Good night, Jake.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

walking home from our house
Christmas Eve.

You can say there’s no such thing
as Santa,

but as for me and grandpa, we believe.

Well, I’m fixing to take these
extra cookies and cakes

to the volunteers at the Cityville
community services building.

It’s too late to go out now, grandma.

If I’d had some help I would have been
finished hours ago.

– I was busy.
– Sorry, had to finish my homework.
– Last-minute shopping.

You’ve been drinking too much eggnog.

– Please, don’t go!
– We’re begging!

Besides, I left my medication
at the store.

On, Donner! On, Blitzen!

It’s him! Santa Claus!

He is real!

Grandma, watch out!

Come on, everyone!

Hurry! Grandma got run over
by Santa’s reindeer!

– Jake, close the door and get in here.
– Santa hit grandma! Grandma needs help!

The only person who needs
help in this family is you.

Now, Jake, calm down. Take a breath.

Okay, Santa Claus was
flying low like this.

And grandma was walking like this
and … is here, and …

Now, honey, you must have had
a bad dream.

In case you haven’t noticed, Frank, your
son suffers from a dreaded affliction.

– What affliction?
– The Santa Claus is real syndrome.

He’s got all the symptoms:

Writing lists to Santa, checking them
twice, good behavior,

falling asleep before midnight.
I figure he gets it from his grandma.

You saw what happened, didn’t you,
grandpa?

I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?

I was too busy watching grandma get
run over by a reindeer-drawn sleigh.

Yes!

What a sight!
Sleigh come out of nowhere.

Grandma takes a header into the
snowbank. Sleigh vanishes…

like the ghost of Christmas past!

And that’s what’s called an advanced
case of Santa Claus is real syndrome.

Oh, honestly, grandpa.

We’ve got to go help grandma!

Nothing is out there.

Frank, do something.

Look, Jake, if I call the local shelter
and have grandma speak to you

will you go to bed?

But she won’t!

I saw her!

I told you Santa hit her with his sleigh!

Call the police!

That’s right, officer.
Missing.

Hit by Santa’s sleigh.

Yes, we’ve been drinking eggnog.

They’ll be out first thing in the morning.

And what did you see, young man?

I saw grandma get run over by a reindeer.

Here we go again.

Sorry, son, impossible.
Right here in the manual.

There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.

Is, too.

We got a code 12-25:
Santa Claus is real syndrome –

family dispute.
– Come on!

I’ll show you where she got run over.

When we found her Christmas morning

at the scene of the attack…
– See?

… she had hoofprints on her forehead

and incriminating Claus marks
on her back.

Okay, we’ve got some reindeer hoofprints
and sleigh tread marks leading to a…

Oh, yeah!

What appears to be an impression of a
person in the snow, look there. But, uh…

How do we know it’s grandma?
– Doofus knows!

That’s one of grandma’s shoes.

That’s her special Christmas mug.

Her medicine.

And her cookies and…

her fruitcake!

Officer Lyon, check this out.

Ooh, what do you make of this?

Offhand, I’d say that’s animal hair.
Reindeer, 15-hands high, 12-point buck.

By the markings, a sleigh-puller. Powerful,
capable of flight, age unknown, one of a…

But it’s just a guess.

Okay, then. I’ll just put it down
as sleighicular hit-and-run.

What’s the code for that?

You should remember that one.
It’s a 12-24.

Oh, right, 12-24.

I get it.



Just a minute, Sherlock.

Before you put out an APB for a sleigh
driven by Santa Claus –

who, may I remind you, does not exist –

I’d like to know where grandma is.

Good point. We can work
the Santa angle later.

Better get looking for the old broad.

We’ll need a photo of the missing person.

That started the biggest grandma hunt
in Cityville history.

The police searched every
nook and cranny for granny.

Time passed, and police kept
looking and looking.

Months went by.

We looked and looked.

I even got permission to put
grandma’s picture on milk cartons.

Nothing helped, not even stories
on the local news channel.

Grandma was nowhere to be found.

Grandma’s Christmas gifts remained
unopened and people dressed in black.

Grandpa tried to cope by playing cards
with cousin Mel.

It wasn’t any better at the store,
either. Mom and dad tried their best.

But without grandma,
customers stopped coming in.

My office said you called
and wanted to see me.

I wanted to apologize for the way
grandma treated you last year.

Did anyone ever tell you’re very good
looking for a man with…

… deep pockets?

I was dusting.

Well, go dust somewhere else!

You can’t tell me what to do.
It’s grandma’s store.

That reminds me, are you still interested
in buying this establishment?

Well, it’s the ideal location for our
sleighmobile division.

Good, because I know grandma
would want me to sell it.

I have the deed right here.

Unfortunately, your name’s not on the
deed, just grandma and grandpa’s.

But if grandpa agrees,
then I could buy the store.

I’m sure I can trick… I mean,
get grandpa to agree.

You’ve been so depressed
since grandma disappeared.

That’s why I had you bring me to my
favorite restaurant to cheer you up.

I’ll cure your sorrow.

We’ll spruce up the store, order
new merchandise, hire a baker.

It’s right here in these papers.
All you have to do is sign.

Sing?

No, sign.

Sure.

So, sign.

I’d rather sing.

Grandma’s spending Christmas
with the superstars

since that reindeer ran her down
that fateful night .

Grandma’s hanging out
with all those late, great stars

for the heavenliest Christmas of her life.

She’s standing under the mistletoe
with Elvis.

He’s been consoling her
because she’s missing gramps.

Then Elvis offers her the keys
to a new Cadillac,

well, well, and a couple of sheets
of Elvis postage stamps.

Grandma’s spending Christmas
with the superstars

since that reindeer ran her down
that fateful night.

Grandma’s hanging out
with all those late, great stars

for the heavenliest Christmas
of her life.

Okay, I’ll sign.

Oh, this is easier than I thought.

Sign here and here. Initial this.

Oh, and this one gives me power
of attorney over your affairs.

I’ll be your dedicated money manager
forever.

I do feel better.

Perfect!

This is it. The last of grandma’s
fruitcakes from last Christmas.

Oh, do you think it’s still good?
Did she use preservatives?

Preservatives? It’s a fruitcake.

What do we do when it’s sold?

Nothing!

Because we’re going to be rich!

We won the lottery!

– We’re going to be rich?
– We’re going to be rich!

We could retire?

What’s going on?

Our boat’s come in.
Cousin Mel says we won the lottery!

– Won the lottery? All right!
– Sort of.

Actually, I’m going over to see Austin
Bucks and sell this dump for millions.

Thank grandpa.
He gave me power of attorney.

Do what?

Grandpa!

How could you do that?

I thought I was helping.

Talk about having your cake
and eating it, too.

I’ve got to stop her.

Mr. Buck’s office – which way?

Jake! Nice stop.

Please, please don’t buy grandma’s store.

Too late, kid. With this last piece of
property Mr. Bucks will own all of Cityville.

Who are you?

Cousin Mel’s attorney, I. M. Slime.

You said it, not me.

Sorry, Jake.

The only person who can stop this sale
is your grandma but

no one knows what happened to her.

She got run over by Santa’s reindeer.

I just need more time to find grandma.

Now, Austin, darling, why don’t we go
somewhere romantic

and consummate this deal?

You got it, kid. This deal doesn’t
close till the end of the week.

No!

You’re an attorney. Do something!
Sue somebody!

A bit of advice.

If you really believe grandma was run over
by Santa’s reindeer then find him.

He should know where grandma is.

Okay, I will!

I have till the end of the week to stop
cousin Mel from selling grandma’s store.

Look, Sherlock. You’ve tried your best
to find grandma.

Your room is search central.

You got no results from your
do-it-yourself police sketch.

Your dry erase board is full of
dead-end clues.

Give it up.

You’re right, Doofus, we can’t give up.

What’s this?

Printout of my old Christmas list?

Look, Doofus, it’s not as simple as adding
“find grandma” to my Christmas list

and e-mailing it to Santa Claus.

Wait.

Doofus, you’re a genius!

To Santa Claus @SantaClausIsReal.com.

Quincy, you better see this.

None.

Not a single letter from Cityville.

It’s as if they’re too busy
with their prefabricated,

mass-produced lives to need me anymore.

Excuse me.

I might as well shave my beard
and cancel the holidays in Cityville.

If I could meet just one stinking person

who understands the holidays are about
human kindness

with only a touch of conspicuous
consumption.

Yes, Quincy? What’s this?

Careful, Royce.

Donna wanted a doll with braids with
a red ribbon.

She’s on the good list.

The mystery of grandma X is solved.

Grandma Spankenheimer?

Grandma Spankenheimer?

Spankenheimer?

No, never met her. But you might ask
one of those short fellers.

Classic case of amnesia.
Can’t remember a thing.

The Christmas lights are on but
nobody’s home.

E-mail a reply immediately!

I have a better idea.

Call off the hound!

Hi, I’m Quincy,

Santa’s elf.

Top elf, to be exact.

I fly right seat on the sleigh.

The man in the red suit doesn’t make
a move without consulting me first.

You’re an elf.

The genuine article.

What are you doing here in September?

I came to ask a question.

Would you like to find your grandma?

More than all the presents in the world.

Then follow me.

Grandpa, I’m going to the North Pole
to find grandma.

Fine, thanks for telling me.

Old St. Nick and Mrs. Claus

decided just this year:

there won’t be any Christmas –

the feeling’s just not here.

Some kids get more than they need

and some are spoiled rotten.

And when it comes to Christmas time

too many are forgotten.

It will feel like Christmas

to people everywhere,

it will feel like Christmas

when we all learn to share.

Santa said to Mrs. Claus

“Something’s way off track –

I can’t get into Christmas

until the spirit’s back.”

It will feel like Christmas

to people everywhere,

it will feel like Christmas

when we all learn to share.

You better have a good reason
why you broke elf code

and brought a human here.

Thought you’d like to meet
Jake Spankenheimer.

The Jake Spankenheimer who loves
rollerblades,

video games, pillow fights
with his sister,

procrastinates once in a while with his
homework – not that I condone it –,

writes to me every Christmas
and helps his grandma in the kitchen?

It’s nice to finally meet someone from
Cityville who still believes in me.

Pretty cool.

Which is why you’re not sweeping up
reindeer chips.

Grandma, there’s someone here
who wants to see you.

Grandma!

Okay, I’ll bite. Who is he?

It’s me, Jake. Don’t you remember?

No, nothin’.

Wait…

No. Thought I had somethin’.

You’ve got to remember.

Cousin Mel’s taking over.

Who’s cousin Mel?

You know, big red hair, greedy,
moneygrubbing,

too much jewelry, beats grandpa at cards.

She doesn’t sound very nice.

She isn’t.

If you don’t come back right away she’s
going to sell your store to Mr. Bucks.

Without it, our family and Christmas
will never be the same.

That’s terrible.

Who are you again?

Will you come back with me
and stop the sale?

Better than laying around here all day
getting fat.

Oh, yeah!

Quincy, hook up the reindeer to the sleigh.

We’re headed to the city.

Turn here.

We’re here!

Better park in back.

Cousin Mel wasn’t about
to give up easily.

I remember what happened next.
It was a warm, September day.

That was a landin’.

I better sit here till my stomach
catches up to the rest of me.

There’s no time, grandma.

Quincy, keep an eye on things.

Right, boss.

It’s grandma!

She’s supposed to be missing.

Ah, this ruins everything.

Mr. Bucks will call off the deal.
There goes your fortune and my 50 percent.

– Ten percent.
– Thirty percent! Plus expenses.

Done.

I’ve got an idea.

You just make sure grandma stays missing.

Hey! Hey! Come back!

Grandma Spankenheimer?

Yes, they sent me down to get you.
Now, if you’ll just follow me?

Sure, sweetie.

Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any antacid?

Wait!

Mr. Bucks, you can’t buy the store
from cousin Mel.

It’s not hers to sell.

I found grandma.

She’s waiting downstairs.

Santa will explain everything.

Sorry.

Used to chimneys, not stairs.

Fill them in while I get grandma.

And, uh, you would be?

Santa Claus.

You know – h*-h*-h*!

Not to embarrass you, but I’m afraid
anybody can put on a big red suit,

false beard and call themselves
Santa Claus. They all work for me.

You’re Austin Bucks!

When you were six years old, you wanted
a Lieutenant Neutron action figure.

Lieutenant Neutron?

He was the best!

– Hey, how did you know that?
– I’m Santa. It’s what I do.

Amazing!

Unbelievable.

So what did happen to grandma?

I was makin’ my usual rounds…

On, Donner! On, Dasher!

Something made my reindeer
go wha-ha!

Wha-ha!

Follow me, guys!

I tried to stop them.

But nothing worked.

Then everything went black.

I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know
what got into those reindeer.

Who are you?

Oh, I better get you medical attention.
Quincy!

Leave a note explaining what happened.

So, of course, she was welcome to stay
at the North Pole until she felt better.

We’ve got great medical care –

every therapy and treatment imaginable
at no h*-h*-h*! cost.

Thanks for straightening out this
whole mess, Santa.

I’m eager to see grandma and tell her
the sale is off.

– Sure glad everything worked out okay.
– I… I’m sorry.

I had to chase the reindeer.
I was gone for a minute.

She wandered off.

– Who?
– Grandma!

We couldn’t find her anywhere.

She’s missing again.

Since grandma is nowhere to be found

and the man in the red suit here
admitted he ran over her

I demand that you have Santa arrested
for the disappearance of grandma.

No!

The news that Santa had been arrested for
the disappearance of grandma was a shock,

especially to Mrs. Claus.

Santa’s been arrested!

I shouldn’t say everyone was shocked
because cousin Mel and her partner in crime

Ms. Slime, sure weren’t.

Here.

Lucky a thing she still has a case of
amnesia and doesn’t know who you are.

Lucky is right but we can’t keep her
locked up in here forever.

Won’t need to.

We just need to keep her out of sight
long enough

for the jury to find Santa Claus
guilty of her disappearance.

And then we sue him for all that money.

Think of it: Santa’s found guilty,

we win the world’s most famous
case of hit-and-run.

Santa Claus must be worth a fortune,

considering he supplies gifts
to everyone in the world.

That’s 2.5 billion times.

What do you think he spends on average
per person? $10, $15?

Even if it’s just five –

your share, as grandpa’s financial
advisor, is…

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa,

that’s what grandpa’s gonna do

that’s what grandpa’s gonna do.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa

’cause grandma would’ve wanted him to.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa,

he knows the law is on his side.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa,

Santa’s going for a ride.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa,

that’s what grandpa’s gonna do.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa

’cause grandma would’ve wanted him to.

No pantalones.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa,

he knows the law is on his side.

Grandpa’s gonna sue the pants off of Santa,

Santa’s going for a ride.

Santa’s going for a ride.

Santa’s going for a ride.

I’m at the courthouse where the sensational
Santa Claus trial is reaching its cl*max.

It’s already December and after weeks
of testimony by several witnesses

three questions remain:

Did Santa’s reindeer run over grandma?

Where is she now?

And without Santa Claus,
will there be a Christmas?

District attorney Hartung is making
his impassioned summation.

And so, in closing do I want to see
Santa Claus go to jail?

Personally, no,

but I represent the state and must do my job.

The evidence proves Santa Claus is
responsible for grandma’s disappearance.

So if the beard fits, you must convict.

If he goes to jail,
it will be the end of Christmas.

What can I do, grandpa?

Find grandma again.

Maybe she didn’t wander off.

But everyone loves grandma.

Who would do such a thing?

Cousin Mel!

Hey, boy, whatcha smell?

Grandma?

Jake, get that mutt away from my backpack.

Sure, cousin Mel.

Okay, Doofus,

do your smell thing.

Keep it up, Doofus.

So that’s where she was going.

Won’t be too much longer, grandma.

The jury is about to find your friend
in the red suit guilty.

And who would that be?

You still don’t remember a thing, do you?

My plan is going to work.

I’m going to be wealthy
and there’s no one who can stop me.

Hello, inside!

Who can that be way out here?

How should I know?
I don’t even know who I am.

If that’s your car parked down by the road
you better check it out.

Some bears are hanging around it.

Thank you! I was leaving anyway!

Okay, but don’t take too long.

Have a safe, fire-free day.

Good job!

I came as soon as I received your e-mail,
Master Jake.

Now what do you have up your sleeve
to get me inside?

Nice entrance!

What’s your name again?
– Jake Spankenheimer.

Your grandson.

Doesn’t ring a bell but thanks, anyway.

Don’t thank me, thank Doofus.

And I suppose this overexcited
pooch is Doofus.

Grandma, I don’t have a lot of time
to explain but we’re going to the store.

What’s at the store?

Your memory.

This is Spankenheimer’s, remember?

Your elf costume?

You’d wear it to read to the kids
while their parents were shopping.

I can’t believe it.

You remember!

No, that I would wear that shade of green
with my coloring.

Easy for you to say.

Tell me again why I’m baking two cakes?

One’s with your recipe,

the other uses the stuff in the vial
I found at cousin Mel’s cabin.

And this is your famous homemade fruitcake

that, uh, a lot of people liked.

Jake, what am I doing here?

Grandma, you remember!

Oh, yeah.

You lost your memory, but now it’s back.

It felt like I was in a dream.

And you were in it, and Santa Claus,
and Mrs. Claus.

I thought I was in a …, only it was cold.

But if everything you told me is true,

why aren’t we at the courthouse
to prove that I’m okay?

We’re on our way.

Has the jury reached a verdict?

Yes, we have, Your Honor.

In the matter of the State v. Santa Claus

we, the Jury, find…
– Stop!

Santa is innocent.

I’m grandma, and I’m not missing.

I’m right here.

That woman is a fraud.
Grandma doesn’t know who she is.

Honeybunches! Grandma!

Order in the court!

Since grandma isn’t missing

I hereby rule that Santa Claus is innocent
of causing her disappearance.

Your honor,

there are still the charges of
sleighicular hit-and-run

and leaving the scene of an accident.

I can answer that, Your Honor. If you
and the Jury would taste this fruitcake.

No, don’t!

She objects.

Overruled. Continue.

This one was made by grandma
using her special ingredients.

Taste it and then compare it
to the pieces of cake

found at the scene of the alleged crime –

state’s evidence #12.

Do we have to, Your Honor?

Good question.

Do we have to?

Yes, I think you’ll find a difference
between the two.

All right, in the name of justice,
we eat fruitcake.

Now taste state’s evidence #12
found where grandma disappeared.

So, what’s your point?

These pieces had an extra ingredient in them

from this vial of bad stuff found
at cousin Mel’s cabin.

You see, Your Honor,
it had the effect of reindeer nip.

That’s why the reindeer knocked over
grandma.

It wasn’t Santa’s reckless driving.

I, uh, couldn’t control myself.

The boy has done it again.

I rule that Santa is also innocent
of the hit-and-run charge.

And I suppose Jake has an answer to the
charge of leaving the scene of an accident –

sleighicular negligence?

Doofus does.

He’s my dog.

What? I object.

Let’s have it.

This is a note Santa left at the
accident scene explaining everything.

Dust it for fingerprints.

All right, I admit it.

Yes, yes, I did it.

I hid the note.

And…?

And I made grandpa sign over his rights
to the store.

And…?

I’m behind this evil trial.

And…?

And I hate the goody, goody feelings
of Christmas –

all this caring and sharing.

So I kidnapped grandma and made
Santa Claus the fall guy

so I could get all his money.

Hey,

I deserve to be rich.

Arrest this woman for obstructing justice
and almost ruining Christmas.

That’s what you get for being selfish and stupid.

Babe, you’ll look great in stripes.

Santa Claus, you are hereby found
innocent of all charges.

You are free to go.

Oh, yeah!

May I say one thing, Your Honor?

Of course.

Jake, you saved Christmas.

Grandma, I want to talk to you
about your store.

Young man, after everything
Jake has gone through

do you really think I’m gonna sell?

I don’t want to buy it.
I want to franchise it –

open Spankenheimer general stores
all over the country.

And I want you to be in charge.

You did it.

You’re a pretty cool little bro.

We’re so proud of you, Jake.

You never gave up
even when the rest of us did.

So, Jake,

what do you want for Christmas?

Nothin’.

I already got the best Christmas gift ever.

I feel the same way.

I’m glad you’re back, grandma.

On, Donner, on, Blitzen…

The rest of you!

Just the way it happened.

Oh, wait.

I left out one more thing.

Not that one!

It’s cousin Mel’s!

Wha-ha!

Oh, no!

Reindeer nip.

Not again!

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

walking home from our house
Christmas Eve.

You can say there's no such thing as Santa,

but as for me and Grandpa, we believe.

She'd been drinkin' too much eggnog,

and we'd begged her not to go.

But she forgot her medication,

and she staggered out the door
into the snow.

When we found her Christmas morning

at the scene of the attack

she had hoof prints on her forehead

and incriminating Claus marks on her back.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

walking home from our house
Christmas Eve.

You can say there's no such thing as Santa,

but as for me and Grandpa, we believe.

Now we're all so proud of grandpa –

he's been taking this so well –,

see him in there watching football,

drinking beer and playing cards
with cousin Mel.

It's not Christmas without grandma,

all the family's dressed in black.

And we just can't help but wonder

should we open up her gifts
or send them back?

Send them back!

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

walking home from our house
Christmas Eve.

You can say there's no such thing as Santa,

but as for me and grandpa, we believe.

Now the goose is on the table,

and the pudding made of fig,

and the blue and silver candles

that would just have matched
the hair in grandma's wig.

I've warned all my friends and neighbors –

better watch out for yourselves.

They should never give a license

to a man who drives a sleigh
and plays with elves.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer

walking home from our house
Christmas Eve.

You can say there's no such thing as Santa,

but as for me and Grandpa, we believe.

Sing it, grandpa…