Tom: It's quiet in the cold of our own little orbit, starless and bible black. And as I look down on the big blue beam we would call home I think it so near, yet… oh, I wish on that star and I hope that in a little snow-covered house with a warm hearth and a loving family, maybe some kid is looking up tonight and wishing upon us. Oh, and how I hope sweet Santa will fly by tonight, because if he does I'm gonna reach right out and hug that big guy. Oh, for the sound of hooves against the steel hull of the ship. Oh, to see the rosy face of Santa in the porthole, offering me a Coke and a smile… [gradually becoming upset] …of course, his cheeks WOULD be rosy because it's a VACUUM out there! I mean, Santa's HEART would explode! [becoming hysterical] But HE wouldn't feel it because the capillaries in his brain would pop like little firecrackers [Joel tries to calm him down] due to the blood boiling away in his face like pudding in a copper…OH THE HUMANITY!! [Now both Joel and Crow are trying to calm him down.] And his jolly old belly would start bubbling like a roasted marshmallow, eyes bulging and popping out… AND THE REINDEER–OH THE REINDEER!!!–keep bloating like holiday floats and in turn exploding in a hail of blood and entrails! Prancer–BOOM! Dancer–BOOM!…
Joel: Tom, take it easy! Santa's gonna be okay, buddy.
Tom: You sure?
Joel: Yeah, give him a little credit, okay?
Tom: Phew, what a relief!