
     The Xmas Files by Frank Cammuso and Hart Seely

     The Place:     37 ELM STREET
                    BETHLEHEM, PA.

     The Time:      11:51 PM, DECEMBER 24TH

     Fox Mulder:    We're too late! It's already been here.

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

     M:   Look Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir,
          truncated, mounted, transfromed into a shrine; halls decked
          with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with
          care.

     S:   You really think someone's been here?

     M:   Someone, or SOMETHING.

     S:   Mulder, over here, it's fruitcake.

     M:   Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.

     S:   It's OK. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's
          naughty and nice."

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

     S:   Who? What are you talking about?

     M:   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.

     S:   But that's legend, Mulder--a story told by parents to frighten
          children.  Surely you don't believe it?

     M:   Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks
          on this gingerbread man. Whaterver tore through this plate of
          cookies was massive --and in a hurry.

     S:   It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass
          has been completely drained.

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

     S:   But why would they leave it milk and cookies?

     M:   Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its
          wilding.

     S:   But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and
          windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.

     M:   Unless I miss my guess, it came in through the fireplace.

     S:   Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature
          landd on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy.
          The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down
          there.

     M:   But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions
          at once?

     S:   You mean like a bowl full of jelly?

     M:   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 somehow took on the
          facial features of my father.

     S:   Impossible.

     M:   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!

     S:   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 reprecussions? If this gets out, they'll close
          the X-files.

     M:   Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows
          when you're awake.

     S:   But we have no proof.

     M:   Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescops detected
          bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White
          House ordered a Condition Red.

     S:   But that was a meteor shower.

     M:   Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandanavian reindeer
          vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, DC. Nobody--
          not even the zookeeper--was told about it. The government
          dosn'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 incom 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.

     S:   Mulder, I--

     M:   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.

     ===================END FORWARDED MESSAGE===================
