57 ELM STREET
BETHLEHEM, PA.
11:51 P.M., DECEMBER 24TH
We're too late! It's already been here.
Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.
Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated,
mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of
holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.
You really think someone's been here?
Someone, or something.
Mulder, over here-it's a fruitcake.
Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.
It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's
naughty and nice."
It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list.
Who? What are you talking about?
Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel
at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each
year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from
the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with
jagged chunks of anthracite.
But that's legend, Mulder-a story told by parents to frighten
children. Surely you don't believe it?
Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on
this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies
was massive-and in a hurry.
It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has
been completely drained.
It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.
But why would they leave it milk and cookies?
Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.
But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and
windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.
Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.
Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed
on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is
barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there.
But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?
You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?
Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a
child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long
white shanks of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its
bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror.
I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the
facial features of my father.
Impossible.
I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought
me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato
Head!
I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of
physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who
soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and
boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the
repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.
Scully, listen to me: It know when you're sleeping. It knows
when you're awake.
But we have no proof.
Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected
bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House
ordered a Condition Red.
But that was a meteor shower.
Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer
vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody-not
even the zookeeper-was told about it. The government doesn't
want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if
this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half
its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets
will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this
creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever
it takes to ensure another silent night.
Mulder, I-
Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?
On the roof. It sounds like...a clatter.
The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter.
BETHLEHEM, PA.
11:51 P.M., DECEMBER 24TH
We're too late! It's already been here.
Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.
Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated,
mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of
holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.
You really think someone's been here?
Someone, or something.
Mulder, over here-it's a fruitcake.
Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.
It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's
naughty and nice."
It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list.
Who? What are you talking about?
Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel
at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each
year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from
the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with
jagged chunks of anthracite.
But that's legend, Mulder-a story told by parents to frighten
children. Surely you don't believe it?
Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on
this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies
was massive-and in a hurry.
It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has
been completely drained.
It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.
But why would they leave it milk and cookies?
Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.
But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and
windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.
Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.
Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed
on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is
barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there.
But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?
You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?
Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a
child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long
white shanks of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its
bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror.
I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the
facial features of my father.
Impossible.
I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought
me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato
Head!
I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of
physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who
soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and
boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the
repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.
Scully, listen to me: It know when you're sleeping. It knows
when you're awake.
But we have no proof.
Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected
bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House
ordered a Condition Red.
But that was a meteor shower.
Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer
vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody-not
even the zookeeper-was told about it. The government doesn't
want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if
this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half
its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets
will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this
creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever
it takes to ensure another silent night.
Mulder, I-
Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?
On the roof. It sounds like...a clatter.
The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter.
Greg
’71 Westfalia, Annie
’91 Caravelle GL, Lucy
Слава Україні
I didn’t expect an answer, because I spoke in Spaniel, which is understood only by spaniels.
’71 Westfalia, Annie
’91 Caravelle GL, Lucy
Слава Україні
I didn’t expect an answer, because I spoke in Spaniel, which is understood only by spaniels.
