[humming]
Excuse me, Mr. Sofa.
Ha, look at that, Gary.
It's the present I left for Santa last Christmas.
Isn't that nice?
The present I left for Santa last Christmas?!
He never got it.
Oh, this is the worst disaster that's ever happened.
My present to Santa's 212 days late.
[sobbing]
Late. It's a tragedy.
[blowing nose]
My joyful, carefree world has grown dark and dreary.
I can't go on.
No, I'll go on.
But I can't go on!
[sobbing]
Whoo hoo!
- Huh? - Whoo hoo!
Five stars.
Patrick, I wasn't acting.
Santa never got his Christmas present.
Well, so why not just deliver it to him?
Why not just deliver it to him?
[chuckles] That's a dumb idea.
- I'm in. - Right.
But how will we get there?
We can't walk that far. Hmm.
Well, we can't push and shove each other.
Great idea. We can't let it be one more day late.
Okay, me first.
[giggling]
My turn.
What the-?
Merry Christmas! [laughing]
Um, it's July.
Ah, it's a good day to be [unintelligible]
[giggling]
[laughing]
Uh, SpongeBob, you got a booger.
Oh.
But, don't worry. That's what friends are for.
Blow.
Thank you.
Ew.
It's the ugliest booger I've ever seen.
Can't you screwballs walk without falling?
Sorry, Plankton. We're pushing and shoving ourselves
all the way to the North Pole.
I have to give Santa his Christmas present.
Santa? I hate that guy.
He's had me on the naughty list ever since I got this tattoo.
Born to be naughty?
Wait a minute.
If I can break into Santa's lair,
hack his mainframe, change my status
from naughty to nice, I could ask
for the Krabby Patty secret formula,
and he'd have to give it to me.
I'm coming with you.
Pushed or shoved?
Shrimp that.
We are going in style, babies.
Wow.
I built it to fly and run over bodies
during the zombie apocalypse.
But it'll work on snow, too.
We'll take the Pacific to the Arctic,
then over ice and snow to the North Pole.
Easy peasy, Santa squeezy.
[laughing]
Seat belts.
Of course, safety first. All secured, Captain Plankton.
All secured.
I'm already regretting this trip.
[laughing]
[shrieking]
We did it. Hmm?
Ooh, look at those tiny little fish.
Hi.
Hey, get back to your seats.
The seat belt sign is off.
[groaning]
[gasping]
The visitors! They're here!
He seemed happy to see us.
Wow, a flying lounge chair.
Hey!
What's in this box anyway?
It's a surprise.
I hope it's a stink bomb
for that potbellied jingle joker.
Santa is not potbellied.
He just suffers from seasonal bloating.
Right.
I'm going to sleep.
But who will fly this thing?
I put it on automatic pilot.
You and that pink moron can sleep on the floor.
[snoring]
[clapping]