Time for my annual posting of this ... enjoy ...!

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[I am told that the following was published in the December 16th, 1996
 issue of the New Yorker magazine, and was written by Frank Cammuso and
 Hart Seely.]


..The X(mas) Files

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 some THING.

 - 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
   strips 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 knows 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 insure 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 ...

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Merry X-Mas to all ...!

/kim

====================================================
"No aliens, darling."  --anagram of Gillian Anderson

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