X-Files Christmas

24. December 1999 – 57 Elm Street, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania – 11:51P.M.

Scully, 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 bows of holly; stocking hung by the chimney with care.

You really think someone’s been here?

Someone, or something.

Mulder, over here, It’s fruitcake.

Don’t touch it! Those things can be lethal!

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 just after 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 through 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, misshaped 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.


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 a bogey 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 zoo keeper 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 what ever it takes to insure another silent night.


Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear? On the roof. It sounds like … a clatter.

The truth is up there. Lets’s see what’s the matter….

Ways To Annoy A Roommate At Christmas

  • Claim you were a Christmas tree in your former life. If s/he tries to bring one into the room, scream bloody murder and thrash on the floor.
  • Go to the mall with your roommate and sit on Santa’s lap. Refuse to get off.
  • Wear a Santa suit all the time. Deny you’re wearing it.
  • Sit in a corner in the fetal position rocking back and forth chanting, “Santa Claus is coming to town, Santa Claus is coming to town…”
  • Hang mistletoe in the doorway. When your roommate enters or leaves the room, plant a wet one on his/her lips.
  • Hang a stocking with your roommates name on it. Collect coal and sharp objects in it. If s/he asks, say, “You’ve been very naughty this year.”
  • Paint your nose red and wear antlers. Constantly complain about how you never get to join in on the reindeer games.
  • Make conversation out of Christmas Carols. (ie, “You know, I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night.”)
  • Wrap yourself in Christmas lights and roll around in the snow.
  • Sing: “All I want for Christmas is my roommate’s two front teeth…”
  • Give your roommate the gifts from the twelve days of Christmas song.
  • Build a snow person with your roommate and place a hat on its head. When it doesn’t come to life, cry hysterically: “It didn’t work!”
  • Whip your roommate screaming: “Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Donner, and Blitzen, etc.”
  • Tear down all your roommate’s Christmas decorations yelling, “Bah Humbug!”
  • Wake up every morning screaming, “Ghost of Christmas Future, please have mercy on my soul!”
  • Tell your roommate you’re moving out. Santa’s buying you a house on 34th Street.
  • Pin a poinsettia to your lapel.
  • Make anatomically correct gingerbread people and eat the best parts first.
  • Put on a fake white beard and insist that all your roommate’s friends, “Give it a yank.”
  • Ring jingle bells maniacally saying “every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings.”
  • Stand in front of the mirror in your underwear reciting, “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” over and over.
  • Smoke mistletoe. Do what comes naturally.
  • Watch your roommate when s/he is sleeping. When s/he wakes up, sing, “He sees you when you’re sleeping…”
  • Steal a life size nativity scene and display it in your room. When your roommate asks, tell him/her, “I had to let them stay here, there’s no room at the inn.”
  • When your roommate goes to the bathroom, rearrange his/her possessions. Tell him/her that Santa’s elves must have done it.
  • Take some miniature marshmallows and put them in a little baggie. Attach a note to the bag that has a picture of a snow man and this poem:
    ‘You have been naughty, and here’s the scoop:
    All you get is the snowman’s poop!’
    Or you could have a picture of a reindeer with cocoa puffs for reindeer poop for your roommate.

Valentine Signatures

The folks at American Greetings have compiled a list of lines to use when signing you valentine…. depending on your personality.

  • Bold — face it, you want me.
  • Clever — IOUXOXO
  • Cosmic — Didn’t we know each other in another time and place?
  • Dreamy — I never believed in love at first sight until you.
  • Enchantress — A valentine spell has been cast on you!
  • Femme Fatale — You cannot escape. I have ways to make you mine.
  • Athletic — How about a little one-on-one?
  • Musical — Always a love song in my heart for you.
  • No-nonsense — What are you waiting for?
  • Old fashioned — My mother warned me about guys/girls like you.
  • Sarcastic — Hey! I signed the card. What else do you want?
  • Scientific — The chemistry between us is definitely affirmative.
  • Self-assured — Be my valentine. “NO” is not an option.
  • Silly — You’re hotter than a jalapeno sandwich!
  • Wild Child — You are twisted and slightly dangerous. I like that in a person.
  • Worldly — Je t’aime! (translation from French “I love you”)

A Redneck’s Ode to His Valentine

Kudzu is green,
my dog’s name is Blue
And I’m so lucky
to have a sweet thang like you.

Yore hair is like cornsilk
A-flapping in the breeze.
Softer than Blue’s
And without all them fleas.

You move like the bass,
Which excite me in May.
You ain’t got no scales
But I luv you anyway.

You’re as graceful as okry
Jist a-dancin’ in the pan.
Yo’re as fragrant as SunDrop
Right out of the can.

You have all yore teeth,
For which I am proud;
I hold my head high
When we’re in a crowd.

On special occasions,
When you shave yore armpits,
Well, I’m in hawg heaven,
I’m plumb outta my wits.

And speakin’ of wits,
You’ve got plenty fer shore.
‘Cuz you married me
Back in ’74.

Still them fellers at work
They all want to know,
What I did to deserve
Such a purty, young doe.

Like a good roll of duct tape
Yo’re there fer yore man,
To patch up life’s troubles
And stick ’em in the can.

Yo’re as strong as a four-wheeler
Racin’ through the mud,
Yet fragile as that sanger
Named Naomi Judd.

Yo’re as cute as a junebug
A-buzzin’ overhead.
You ain’t mean like no far ant
Upon which I oft’ tread.

Cut from the best pattern
Like a flannel shirt of plaid,
You sparked up my life
Like a Rattletrap shad.

When you hold me real tight
Like a padded gunrack,
My life is complete;
Ain’t nuttin’ I lack.

Yore complexion, it’s perfection,
Like the best vinyl sidin’.
Despite all the years,
Yore age, it keeps hidin’.

And when you get old
Like a ’57 Chevy,
Won’t put you on blocks
And let grass grow up heavy.

Me ‘n’ you’s like a Moon Pie
With a RC cold drank,
We go together
Like a skunk goes with stank.

Some men, they buy chocolate
For Valentine’s Day;
They git it at Wal-Mart,
It’s romantic that way.

Some men git roses
On that special day
From the cooler at Kroger.
“That’s impressive,” I say.

Some men buy fine diamonds
From a flea market booth.
“Diamonds are forever,”
They explain, suave and couth.

But for this man, honey,
These will not do.
For you are too special,
You sweet thang you.

I got you a gift,
Without taste nor odor,
Better than diamonds
it’s a new ridin’ mower.

Valentine Dreams

After she woke up, a woman told her husband, “I just dreamed that you gave me a pearl necklace for Valentine’s day. What do you think it means?”

“You’ll know on Valentine’s Day.” he said.

On Valentine’s Day, the man came home with a small package and gave it to his wife. Delighted, she opened it – to find a book entitled….

“The Meaning Of Dreams.”

White House Valentine Poems

  • After years of indiscretion,
    at last I’ve come to learn,
    that I must send this Valentine,
    To Whom it May Concern.
  • Valentine, I think you’re great,
    a Chief Executive who can delegate.
    And you warm this First Lady’s heart,
    by having interns do the unpleasant part.
  • On most every day,
    I like McDonald’s fries.
    On Valentine’s Day,
    I prefer Monica’s thighs — Super Sized!
  • Will you deny, Valentine?
  • Hey, Big Creep, on Valentine’s Day,
    we’ll play Marilyn and JFK.
    Just make sure that Hillary’s gone,
    ’cause you get me interned on!

  • How do I love thee?
    Let me count the entries in the visitors’ log.
  • Monica, Monica, quiet young mouse
    — taking her Bill to the floor of the House.
  • Hi there! Happy Valentine’s day!
    Sorry to serve your subpoena this way.
  • Roses are red,
    then they turn gray,
    My heart goes pitter-pat
    when you wear that beret.
  • Shall I compare thee to my high school drama teacher?
  • Twinkle, twinkle, Kenneth Starr,
    I talked to Vernon in the car.
    I promised him my lips are sealed,
    but I’ll change my mind, for a sweet book deal.
  • As soon as I’m finished bombing Iraq,
    I’d like to get you in the sack.
  • Will you,on the night in question of February 14th,
    be my Valentine?
  • Violets are blue,
    roses are thorny.
    All hell breaks loose,
    when Bubba gets horny.
  • I’ll bomb England, I’ll bomb France,
    If you’ll remove my underpants.

Summer Shoe Pledge

Please raise your big toes and repeat after me:

As a member of the Cute Girl Sisterhood, I pledge to follow the rules when I wear sandals and other open-toe shoes.

  • I promise to always wear sandals that fit.
  • My toes will not hang over and touch the ground, nor will my heels spill over the backs. And the sides and tops of my feet will not pudge out between the straps.
  • I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish fresh, intact and chip-free. I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe.
  • I will sand down any mounds of skin before they turn hard and yellow.
  • I will shave the hairs off my big toe.
  • I won’t wear pantyhose even if my misinformed girlfriend, coworker, mother, sister tells me the toe seam really will stay under my toes if I tuck it the real good. (NOTE: Sandalfoot pantyhose are acceptable :-))
  • If a strap breaks, I won’t duct-tape, pin, glue or tuck it back into place hoping it will stay put. I will get my shoe fixed or toss it.
  • I will not live in corn denial, rather I will lean on my good friend Dr. Scholls if my feet need him.
  • I will resist the urge to buy jelly shoes at Payless for the low, low price of $4.99 even if my feet are small enough to fit into the kids’ sizes. This is out of concern for my safety, and the safety of others. No one can walk properly when standing in a pool of sweat and I would hate to take someone down with me as I fall and break my ankle.
  • I will take my toe ring off toward the end of the day if my toes swell and begin to look like Vienna sausages.
  • If I have been privvy to the magic that is Foot Soup, I will share that knowledge and experience with the non-initiated.
  • I will be brutally honest with my girlfriend/sister/coworker when she asks me if her feet are too ugly to wear sandals. Someone has to tell her that her toes are as long as my fingers and no sandal makes creepy feet look good.

‘Twas the Night Before Solstice

by James Finn Garner

‘Twas the night before solstice and all through the co-op
Not a creature was messing the calm status quo up.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
Dreaming of lentils and warm whole-grain breads.

We’d welcomed the winter that day after school
By dancing and drumming and burning the Yule,
A more meaningful gesture to honor the planet
Than buying more trinkets for Mom or Aunt Janet,

Or choosing a tree just to murder and stump it
And dress it all up like a seasonal strumpet.
My lifemate and I, having turned down the heat,
Slipped under the covers for a well-deserved sleep,

When from out on the lawn there came such a roar
I fell from my futon and rolled to the floor.
I crawled to the window and pulled back the latch,
And muttered, “Aw, where is that Neighborhood Watch?”

I saw there below through the murk of the night
A sleigh and eight reindeer of nonstandard height.
At the reins of that sleigh sat a mean-hearted knave
Who treated each deer like his personal slave.

I’d seen him before in some ads for car loans,
Plus fast food and soft drinks and cellular phones.
He must have cashed in from his mercantile chores,
Since self-satisfaction just oozed from his pores.

He called each by name, as if he were right
To treat them like humans, entrenching his might:
“Now Donder, now Blitzen,” and other such aliases,
Showing his true Eurocentrical biases.

With a snap of his fingers away they all flew,
Like lumberjacks served up a plate of tofu.
Up to the rooftop they carried the sleigh
(The holes in the shingles are there to this day).

Out bounded the man, who sent straight to the flue.
I knew in an instant just what I should do.
After donning my slippers, downstairs did I dash
to see this trespasser emerge from the ash.

His clothes were all covered with soot, but of course,
From our wood-fueled alternative energy source.
Through the grime I distinguished the make of his duds–
He was dressed all in fur, fairly dripping with blood.

“We’re a cruelty-free house!” I proclaimed with such heat
He was startled and tripped on the logs at his feet.
He stood back up dazed, but with mirth in his eyes.
It was then that I noticed his unhealthy size.

He was almost as wide as when standing erect,
A lover of fatty fried foods, I suspect.
But that wasn’t all to make sane persons choke:
In his teeth sat a pipe that was belching out smoke!

I could scarcely believe what invaded our house.
This carcinogenic and overweight louse
Was so red in the face from his energy spent,
I expected a heart attack right there and then.

Behind him he toted a red velvet bag
Full to exploding with sinister swag.
He asked, “Where is your tree?” with a face somewhat long.
I said, “Out in the yard, which is where it belongs.”

“But where will I put all the presents I’ve brought?”
I looked at him squarely and said, “Take the lot
“To some frivolous people who think that they need
to succumb to the sickness of commerce and greed,

“Whose only joy comes from the act of consuming,
Thus sending the stock of the retailers booming.”
He blinked and said, “Ho, ho, ho! But you’re kidding.”
I gave him a stare that was stern and forbidding.

“Surely children need something with which to have fun?
It’s like childhood’s over before it’s begun.”
He looked in my eyes for some sign of assent,
But I strengthened my will and refused to relent.

“They have plenty of fun,” I cut to the gist,
“And your mindless distractions have never been missed.
“They take CPR so that they can save lives,
And go door-to-door for the used clothing drives.

“They recycle, renew, reuse — and reveal
For saving the planet a laudable zeal.
“When they padlock themselves to a fence to protest
Against nuclear power, we think they’re the best.”

He said, “But they’re children — lo, when do they play?”
I countered, “Is that why you’ve driven your sleigh,
“To bring joy to the hearts of each child and tot?
All right, open your bag; let’s see what you’ve got.”

He sheepishly did as I’d asked and behold!
A Malibu Barbie in a skirt made of gold.
“You think that my girls will like playing with this,
An icon of sexist, consumerist kitsch?

“With it’s unnatural figure and airheaded grin,
This trollop makes every girl yearn to be thin,
“And take up fad diets and bingeing and purging
Instead of respecting her own body’s urging

“To welcome the shape that her body has found
And rejoice to be lanky, short, skinny, or round.”
Deep in his satchel he searched for a toy,
Saying, “This is a hit with most little boys.”

And what did he put in my trembling hand
But a gun from the BrainBlaster Power Command!
“It’s a ‘hit,’ to be sure,” I sneered in his face,
“And a plague to infect the whole human race!

“How ’bout grenades or some working bazookas
To turn all of our kids into half-wit palookas?”
I seized on his bag just to see for myself
The filth being spread by this odious elf.

An Easy-Bake Oven — ah, goddess, what perfidy!
To hoodwink young girls into household captivity!
Plus an archer play set with shafts that fly out,
The very thing needed to put your eye out.

And toy metal tractors, steam shovels, and cranes
For tearing down woodlands and scarring the plains,
Plus “games” like Monopoly, Pay Day, Tycoon,
As if lessons in greed can’t start up too soon.

And even more weapons from BrainBlastersCo.,
Like cannons and nunchucks and ray guns that glow.
That’s all I could find in his red velvet sack —
Perverseness and mayhem to set us all back.

(But I did find one book that caused me to ponder —
Some fine bedtime tales by a fellow named Garner.)
“We need none of this,” I announced in a huff,
“No ‘business-as-usual’ holiday stuff.

“We sow in our offspring more virtue than this.
Your ‘toys’ offer some things they never will miss.”
The big man’s expression was a trifle bereaved
As he shouldered his pack and got ready to leave.

“I pity the kids who grow up around here,
Who’re never permitted to be of good cheer,
“Who aren’t allowed leisure for leisure’s own sake,
But must fret every minute — it makes my heart break!”

“Enough histrionics! Don’t pity our kids
If they don’t do as Macy’s or Toys ‘R’ Us bids.
“They live by their principles first and foremost
And know what’s important,” to him did I boast.

“Pray, could I meet them” “Oh no, they’re not here.
They’re up on the roof, liberating your deer!”
Then Santa Claus sputtered and pointed his finger
But, mad as he was, he had no time to linger.

He flew up the chimney like smoke from a fire,
And up on the roof I heard voices get higher.
I ran outside the co-op to see him react
To my children’s responsible, kindhearted act.

He chased them away, and disheartened, dismayed,
He rehitched his reindeer (who’d docilely stayed).
I watched with delight as he scooted off then.
He’d be too embarrassed to come back again.

But with parting disdain, do you know what he said,
When this overweight huckster took off in his sled?
This reindeer enslaver, this exploiter of elves?
“Happy Christmas to all, but get over yourselves!!”

Signs You Are Broke After Christmas

  • American Express calls and says; “Definitely leave home without it.”
  • Your idea of a 7 course meal is taking a deep breath outside a restaurant.
  • You think of a lottery ticket as an investment.
  • You give blood everyday, just for the orange juice.
  • You finally clean your house, hoping to find loose change.
  • McDonalds supplies you with all your kitchen condiments.
  • Sally Struthers sends you food.
  • You go back for seconds at communion.
  • You’ve rolled so many pennies, you’ve formed a psychic bond with Abe Lincoln.
  • You rob Peter and then you rob Paul.

Santa Pickup Lines

  • Hey Babe, when was the last time you did it in a sleigh?
  • Wanna see my 12-inch elf?
  • I’ve got something special in the sack for you!
  • Ever make it with a fat guy with a whip?
  • I know when you’ve been bad or good–so let’s skip the small talk, sister!
  • Some of my best toys run on batteries…
  • Interested in seeing the “North Pole”? (Well, that’s what the Mrs. calls it…)
  • I see you when you`re sleeping–and you don`t wear any underwear, do you?
  • Screw the “nice” list–I`ve got you on my “naughty” list!
  • Wanna join the “Mile High” club?