Santa Claus double checked his naughty or nice list.  Only the nice ones got gifts, but Santa had a weakness.  Santa liked to visit one of the naughty girls.  Her name was Dorothy Vallens.

Dorothy Vallens was the headline lounge singer at The Slow Club in Lumberton, North Carolina.  Lumberton was a boring, quiet suburb.  Compared to Lumberton, Dorothy was like an exotic, forbidden spice.  "Blue Velvet" was Dorothy's signature song, and patrons of the club would not leave until she sang it.

Santa crouched trying to hide in the fireplace.  Dorothy glided across the living room wearing her blue velvet bathrobe with nothing on underneath.  Dorothy paused in front of the fireplace.

"Come out so I can see you.  It's not fair that you get to see me and I can't see you."

Santa crawled out and stood up to face Dorothy.  His red cheeks were on fire as were his loins.

"My secret admirer.  Now it's my turn.  Take off your clothes.  Do it before I call the cops."

Santa slowly removed his clothes.  Dorothy smiled at the sight of Santa's swollen candy cane.  Dorothy knelt down.  Santa closed his eyes.

A loud banging on the door interrupted Santa's ultimate fantasy.

"Oh my God.  It's Frank!  Hurry.  Get back in the fireplace."

Frank Booth was Lumberton's local drug dealer and certified psychopath.  Frank was obsessed with Dorothy, and in order to keep her as his girlfriend, he kidnapped her husband and son.

"Who the fuck were you talking to?"

"No one."

Frank slapped Dorothy hard across her face.

"Don't you fucking lie to me.  Don't you ever fucking lie to me!"

Frank saw the red hat that Santa forgot to bring back to his hiding place.  Frank held up the hat and pushed it into Dorothy's face.

" Nobody here, huh.  What the fuck is this?"

Frank took out his gun and prowled around the room.  He pointed the gun where Santa was hiding.  

"Who is this fuck?  I ought to kill you right now you miserable fuck."

"Please Frank.  Leave him alone.  He's just a neighbor."

"Oh a neighbor.  Well howdy neighbor.  What's your name, fucker?"

"Santa."

Frank punches Santa in the stomach.

"A fucking comedian.  Go get me a fucking beer.  Hey Santa, you want one?  What kind of beer does Santa like to drink?"

"Heineken."

"Heineken.  Fuck that shit!  Pabst Blue Ribbon is what we're having.  Hey Santa.  Have you ever been to Pussy Heaven?"

"No."

"If you're really Santa Claus then you can bring me a present.  For Christmas this year, I want a big bag of FUCK.  Can you get me some fuck?"

"No."

"You know what my friends say about me, Santa.  I'll fuck anything that moves!"

Frank turns around and takes out his amyl nitrite inhaler.  Frank sucks down several hits and then puts on some lipstick.  Frank grabs the back of Santa's head and gives him a long kiss.  Frank pushes a piece of blue velvet fabric into Santa's hand.

"Baby wants to fuck.  Stick it in my mouth, fucker!"

Santa gently puts the blue velvet into Frank's mouth.  Frank rolls around the floor, humping the carpet while making horrible sounds.  Finally, Frank finishes, and adjusts his pants.

"Has anyone ever sent you a love letter, Santa?  I'll send you a love letter.  Straight from my fucking heart.  You get my drift?  A bullet straight from my gun into your head.  You get a love letter from me and you are fucked forever!"

Frank exits the house slamming the door.  Santa and Dorothy stare at each other in shock.  Dorothy strolls toward her bedroom, turns her lovely neck to Santa and says, "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to come back next Christmas."

Copyright 1986 Blue Velvet, David Lynch