From: John Dale (johnd@northlink.com)
Date: Fri Dec 19 1997 - 02:32:36 MST
Dear Friends,
Enjoy!
------- Forwarded Message Follows -------
To: "Baha'i Women Converse" <Bahai-Women@bcca.org>
Subject: Fw: No subject given
Date: Thu, 18 Dec 1997 10:37:24 -0600
From: smsmith@cybertrails.com (S. Michele Smith)
> Subject: No subject given
> Date: Thursday, December 18, 1997 9:54 AM
>
>
> 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 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.
>
>
> Submitted by: LRC "ircutie" @ uscom.com
>
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