Pink Christmas (Neo Yokio)

Tell me Charles.

Does it get any worse than having a cold over the holidays?

Your suffering knows no bounds, sir.

It's the day before Christmas, damn it.

I should be out buying sweaters and drinking peppermint lattes with my boys.

Instead, I'm in this penthouse apartment sipping tea like a monk.

Come, sir. There's more to the holidays than shopping and seasonal beverages.

Is there, Charles?

Perhaps a story will lift your spirits.

Hmm, that's an interesting idea.

How about something festive?

But of course.

Let me see what Christmas stories I have available in my database.

Ah... yes.

The New Testament.

Buckle up for a wild ride, sir.

Matthew One, the Book of the Generation of Jesus Christ,

the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham begat Isaac, and Isaac begat Jacob,

and Jacob begat Judas and his brethren,

and Judas begat Phares and Zara of Thamar,

-and Phares begat Esrom, and Esrom-- -I'm gonna stop you there, Charles.

Is there a problem, sir?

Sorry, but I'm really not feeling this.

But sir, this is the greatest story ever told.

Whoever says that is cuckoo bananas.

There's no action, no stakes, no drama.

The characters aren't even likable. All they do is begat.

Perhaps you would prefer a bespoke story,

something tailor-made for a man of your exquisite taste and standing.

Great idea.

I do love original content.

Where should I set our story, sir?

Huh. Maybe Neo Yokio, present day?

Very good.

And who should I make the main character?

Well, how about me?

Not an ego thing, just so I can identify with it, you know.

One moment, as I shift into narrative improvisatory mode.

Sing in me, muse,

and through me, tell the story of that elegant young man

who battled demons and celebrated Christmas

in the greatest city in the world, Neo Yokio.

Present day.

It was a cold December morning,

and deep inside Long Island Walled City,

a sales clerk was about to start his work day.

Charles, I thought I was going to be the main character.

Patience, sir.

I'm sure you will appear shortly.

Okay. Go on.

As I was saying...

a sales clerk was about to start his work day.

There we go.

There we go.

There we go.

There we go.

This is Rockefeller Center.

As you exit the train, we ask that you take a moment to remember those

who fought and gave their lives in the Great Demon War.

Stand clear of the closing doors, please.

I get the picture, Charles.

The sales clerk, is a poor yet patriotic man.

Let's pick up the pace.

I shall consider the scene set, sir,

But there is one more thing you should know about our sales clerk.

He loved his job at Neo Yokio's premier department store,

Bergdorf Goodman.

He relished the opportunity

to assist the city's upper crust in all their consumer needs,

especially at Christmas time.

Welcome home, shoppers.

Dries Van Noten.

Top note: bergamot.

Middle note: saffron.

Base note: sandalwood.

Ah, it's nice,

but my wife really loves her Babylon Number Five.

Two thousand dollars for a hospital gown! Well, that seems a bit steep.

This ain't a hospital gown. It's the Helena.

The hottest dress of the season.

Oh, my God, I love it!

If I was you, I'd get the diamond-encrusted bandage,

just to complete the ensemble.

This counts for your birthday, too.

I hate you, Mom.

Finally, there I am.

As promised, sir.

Yo, I just found the perfect sweater

to rock to the ugly Christmas sweater party, my G.

Didn't you hear? Freddie Miles is switching it up.

Instead of doing an ugly Christmas sweater party,

he's doing a gorgeous Christmas sweater party.

Fam, the line between gorgeous and ugly grows thinner by the day.

I say we buy them, B. We, we gotta cop.

Mm... I gotta contemplate this. What do you think, Kaz?

I wish I had the luxury of shopping for myself.

But right now, I need to focus all my attention

on finding the perfect Secret Santa gift.

Did somebody say Secret Santa?

Oh, hey, sales clerk.

Mr. Kaan.

The Bachelor Ball Secret Santa is my favorite event of the season.

All ten of Neo Yokio's most eligible men

going head-to-head in competitive gift-giving.

It's an absolute dream.

Well, it's my nightmare.

Did you know that they lifted the spending cap this year?

My goodness, the sky's the limit.

And who did you get for your Secret Santa, Mr. Kaan?

I'm not sure I can tell you.

It is a... secret.

Of course, excuse me. I just thought that...

if I knew who you were shopping for, I could be of better assistance.

Hm, good point.

It's...

Arcangelo Corelli.

That's my name.

Don't wear it out.

Fiddlesticks! It's Arcangelo and the Eastside Gentlemen.

Man, I can't stand these dudes, bro.

Doing a little holiday shopping, are we?

Maybe.

Well, you better buy me something nice.

Secret Santa, wink.

What? Who told you I was your Secret Santa?

Who spoiled the surprise?

Whoa... cool your dick, man.

No one cares about the secret part of Secret Santa.

The general public just wants to watch beautiful men unboxing lavish presents.

They want a show,

and boy, oh, boy, is Arcangelo going to give them one this year!

I've pulled out all the stops for your gift.

My gift?

Oh, yeah.

I paid the commerce commissioner 50 racks

just to make sure I got to be your Secret Santa.

Why in God's name would you do that? We're arch-nemesis.

I'm trying to bury the hatchet once and for all, Kaz,

and I want to do it on national television.

I can't believe my two favorite bachelors will be exchanging gifts

and hammering beefs.

This really is a Christmas miracle.

The stakes is high, bitch.

Go big... or go home.

- -By the way, Kaz,

word around town is you love original content.

You should check out my podcast.

You have a podcast?

You don't?

All right, gentlemen, let's carol on over to formal wear.

And a one and a two and a three.

All hands on deck, guys.

We got to find that prick the perfect present.

It's your Aunt Agatha, sir.

Kaz, are you shopping right now?

I'm trying to.

Aunt Angelique is arriving from Paris in 20 minutes.

You're supposed to be at the airport.

Gucci slides. Pure gold.

Close, but no cigar.

Aunt Agatha, I'm kind of in the middle of something.

Can't you pick her up?

I don't want to spend a single second more than I have to

with my pretentious sister. Go! Maintenant!

Well, I guess that's it.

I'm gonna lose Secret Santa and be the laughing stock of the city.

Chin up, Mr. Kaan. The fog of hope has yet to lift.

But the Secret Santa is tomorrow.

There simply aren't enough hours in the day.

I pledge myself to you.

Um, what are you doing, sales clerk?

Dost thou, Kaz Kaan,

grant me, sales clerk, permission to shop in your stead

and find a show-stopping present for your nemesis, Arcangelo Corelli?

Um, sure, I guess.

Then it is so.

I will not fail you, my liege.

Hey, Aunt Angelique!

Ah! Mon chéri!

Welcome home.

Ah. Neo Yokio,

the most problematic city in the universe!

Can I take your bags?

Hell no, motherfucker.

Carrying my luggage makes me feel alive.

This however, is for you.

Awesome. Thanks.

You can't open it until Christmas. You got to promise.

This is very special.

I know. Toblerone is very special.

So, how's your book coming along?

My Memoir?

Fantastique!

I just finished it, but let's not tell my sister.

She's never supported my writing.

Oh, that's not true.

You are a sweet boy, but a bad liar.

Anyway, are you ready to ride back to the apartment?

On this poor creature?