Dana Scully: Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.

FM: Look Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into some sort of shrine; halls decked with holly; stockings hung by the chimney with great attention.

DS: You really think someone's been here?

FM: Some one or some THING.

DS: Mulder, over here -- it's a fruitcake.

FM: Scully, stay away! Those things can be lethal.

DS: It's seems to be O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty or nice."

FM: It's judging them Scully, it's making a list.

DS: Who? What are you talking about?

FM: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft pulled by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the sky to reward its followers with gifts and trinkets and to punish the evil ones with sticks and jagged anthracite.

DS: But that's just a legend Mulder -- a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don't believe it!

FM: Oh yeah, well something was here tonight Scully. Check out the bite marks on that gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies must have been massive -- and in a hurry.

DS: There *are* crumbs everywhere. And look Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.

FM: It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.

DS: But why would these people leave food and drink?

FM: Appeasement. Tonight is its night and they want to curry favor. Nothing can stop its wilding.

S: That still doesn't explain how it got in here. The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.

FM: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace. It's bitterly cold outside, but look, not even warmth from the coals.

DS: Wait a minute Mulder, the flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing even coming close to the size of this thing, if it does exist, could get through there.

FM: Really, and I suppose Eugene Victor Tooms was just your and my imagination, as well. I've never told anyone this, Scully, but when I was a child, our home was visited under similar circumstances. No . . . this is different than Samantha's abduction. I saw the creature. It had long strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the sight. It turned towards me and I hid on the other side of the wall. After a pause, it resumed its work and I caught a glimpse of its face . . . it had morphed into my father!!

DS: Impossible.

FM: I know what I saw Scully. But what's more, it read my mind. The next day, underneath the tree, I found a Mr. Potato Head. Scully, IT KNEW I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD!!

DS: 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 heavens bringing gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you are saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If you report this, they'll close down the X-files!

FM: Scully, listen to me; it knows when you are sleeping, it knows when you're awake.

DS: But we have no proof.

FM: Last year on this exact date, S.E.T.I. radio telescopes around the world detected an atmospheric disturbance over the whole world. The Pentagon declared a DEFCON-4.

DS: But that was only a meteor shower.

FM: That's the official story. Listen to this, two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Helsinki. Nobody -- not even the zookeeper -- was told about it. The simple fact is that the powers that are out there don't want people to know about Project Kringle. If the truth gets out, then the public would stop spending half its fall disposable income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets would collapse. They simply cannot let the public know. They'll do whatever it takes to ensure another silent night.


Merry Christmas everyone and have a Happy New Year!

Brought to our attention by the esteemed J. Story, who got it from Texas Pete, who edited it for Tsunami, who got it Demoniac, who deleted the original e-mail and can't remember from whence it came.

Would the author please step up? Until then, let us all be thankful that he or she is out there, somewhere, using his or her fine wit to bring Christmas cheer to X-Philes everywhere, all year 'round.


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