MISTA SNOWMAN: Isn't she adorable, Santa? Look at her vest!
SANTA: So what are we calling her? I know she's a Mare, but we already have a Mare, and calling two people "Mare" sounds way too complicated.
MISTA SNOWMAN: Way ahead of you! We've nicknamed her Pear! You know, like the fruit?
WAITERBOT: I still think "Raticus Maximus" would've been better.
PEAR: You creeps can call me whatever you like. It doesn't change the fact that the second I get out of these ropes, I am going to blast each of your heads off, eat your entrails, and then take "bloody smile" pictures just for the shock value!
PEAR: AHHHHHHHHHHH!
MISTA SNOWMAN: Ohhh Santa, can we keep her?! PLEASE tell me we can keep her. She's the greatest!
SANTA: We don't have much of a choice! You can't throw away Advent Calendar gifts...it's against the rules!
MISTA SNOWMAN: AWESOME! As soon as she settles down and gets used to us, I'll untie her and feed her things!
WAITERBOT: Wait a second, we're not really planning to untie her, are we? That'd be phenomenally stupid.
MISTA SNOWMAN: But Waiterbot! She's our little Pear! She needs to exercise her legs!
WAITERBOT: The answer is NO. NO untying. Not now, not ever. That Mare or Pear or whatever...she must remained imprisoned!
SANTA: You seem a little too passionate about this, Waiterbot.
WAITERBOT: Santa, I won't deny that it turns me on. My only regret is the lack of a ball gag.
SANTA: You're a sick bastard Waiterbot, but you're right. Pear is just too dangerous. For the time being, we're keeping her tied up.
WAITERBOT: Finally, a little sanity!
SANTA: Glad I could be of service.
WAITERBOT: Fuck off, Santa.
SANTA: You two better get going. Today's gift isn't getting any younger.
WAITERBOT: Ugh, FINE. Just remember, Santa: The girl is mine. While we are gone, you are not to touch her. Ultimately, that will be my job.
SANTA: Waiterbot, you're crossing the line. That was downright offensive.
WAITERBOT: Yeah well, you get what you pay for.
WAITERBOT:Look at this thing! This has to be the biggest Advent Calendar gift of all time!
MISTA SNOWMAN: There could be anything in there! This is like our own personal Christmas Story major award crate!
WAITERBOT: Oh for Christ's sake. Shut up.
MISTA SNOWMAN: Are you almost done building it, Waiterbot? Can't you go any faster?
WAITERBOT: I would be going faster if I didn't have to work with your steaming alien cock breath permeating the air around me! This is hard labor, Snowman! I need oxygen!
WAITERBOT: There. It's done.
WAITERBOT: Now what the fuck is it?
MISTA SNOWMAN: Hey, I know what this is! This is a horse pen! This is where you keep horses!
WAITERBOT: What? That doesn't make sense, there are only two walls! A horse could easily just turn around and walk out!
MISTA SNOWMAN: No way! See the lantern? The horse will be so enamored with its soft glow, it'll never turn around!
WAITERBOT: Charles! Spend a moment stretching in the corner. Get that blood flowing. You are to carry this horse pen back to the barn.
CHARLES: But it's too big! I'll never be able to carry it by myself!
WAITERBOT: I believe in you, Charles.
WAITERBOT: Let's get this show on the road. I don't trust that Santa. He's going to fuck around with my sweet little Pear!
MISTA SNOWMAN: Stop being so paranoid. Santa would never do something so disgusting!
WAITERBOT: Yes he would. I've looked into his eyes. He's a dark and complicated soul, Snowman. Completely capable of record-setting depravity.
SANTA: Well, aren't you a dirty little girl. I know what you need. You need Santa here to clean you up. I'm talking, from head to toe, using nothing but my tongue. And my pre-licked fingers. Mmmm.
SANTA: Naw just kidding! I'm gonna use these horse grooming tools! Why not, right? Hey, we got 'em!
SANTA: Horsey will you hold still?! It's really hard to comb dried shit out of your mane when you keep thrashing around.
PEAR: Oh, great. This is just great. Perfect. Awesome view. Thank you so much.
