Father Creed closes the basement door and sighs with silly little priest relief. “I think there’s a can of my favorite beer with my favorite name on it! And I ain’t talkin’ about my name.”

The basement door creaks back open…

[Uproarious live studio audience laughter]

Father Creed rolls his eyes and pushes it shut. Then, satisfied, he smiles and walks off.

The basement door creaks back open…

[Uproarious live studio audience laughter]

Father Creed punches it shut like a heavyweight boxer. He waits. “I’m not waiting for that comedy comes in threes bullshit…”

The basement door doesn’t even dare to be bold by creaking once more…

Father Creed is surely satisfied this time. You see, children, the basement door has a problem with the hinge. It’s difficult to shut and stay shut when you want it to (just like that filthy place between your whore mother’s legs). Teddy can make himself useful and tinker with it tomorrow. An early Christmas present for all the silly stress Percy puts up with…

Father Creed returns to the kitchen, casting his apron aside, and takes back his seat at the table to resume his dictionary delight with his Bud Light. He takes one loud sip-

*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK* That damn side door is going ballistic again!

Father Creed considers ignoring it. Anybody in their right mind would know he’s busy at this hour. Teddy being in the wrong mind is the exception to that, of course, not the rule.

The KNOCKING persists…

“Uuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhh, fiiiiiiiiiiine!” Father Creed flails his hands around like a sassy bitch.

[Uproarious live studio audience laughter]

Father Creed crams his dictionary shut. Then crushes and slams his beer can down so that it foams up like a mushroom cloud.

The KNOCKING persists…

Father Creed scowls as he closes in.

The KNOCKING persists…

Father Creed scowls as he closes in. He opens the door. “May I help you?”

Father Creed’s face is greeted with howling, frigid air, and the blanketing of snow. He puts his head back in the doorway.

[Uproarious live studio audience laughter]

Silly Father Creed looks like a snowman, doesn’t he, kids?

[Sounds of children chortling, wheezing, suffering from intense sinus pain and vomiting in the audience]

Father Creed pulls off his newly given snowman head with a *ploink* and chucks it far.

He looks outside to the right. Nothing…

He looks outside to the left. Nothing…

He can’t see nothin’. He can’t hear nothin’. The snow is too dense and too loud.

‘Must have been those punk priests from St. Alice in Chains again…’ Father Creed figures. ‘Always playing pranks…’ Father Creed closes the door. He chuckles to himself because he just remembered something. This door wasn’t locked. He forgot to lock it after Teddy yanked him outside earlier. Why whoever was pounding on this door could have simply strutted on in…

Father Creed sits back down. ‘Strutted on in…’ He turns a page in his dictionary. ‘Strutted on in…’

‘THE BACK DOOR!’ Father Creed launches the dictionary into the air in sudden shock. He had forgotten to lock the back door too!

Father Creed dashes away down the hallway. Rounding a corner, rounding another corner-

A shivering wet woman stands by the back door. Head covered in snow, shoulders sprinkling off white night crystals. Wearing a green dress and a thin nylon jacket. Her teeth chatter as she holds herself tight. Trying to mumble something through her cold, dripping-wet lips.

[Uproar-roar-roar-roarrrrrrrrr—----------------------eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr *cuts to static*]

“Ummmm. Heh. Hi Percy…” She tries to put on a smile. “Hoooo. Heh. Heh…”

Father Creed looks down. She has no boots, no shoes, only her leggings. He quickly clasps his hands together and faints a friendly face. “My! My! Kristine Kringle! Whatever are you doing out here tonight?”

Kristine heaves. Kristine cries. She doesn’t even know where to begin.

Sensing the obvious emotional struggle, Father Creed pats her shoulder and takes her coat. “Now, now. Off you go to the lounge, then you can tell me allllllll about it. I was just getting ready to start a fire~❤️” He hangs her coat and locks the back door.

In between her watering eyes and quivering lips, Kristine nods. She walks with Percy down the hall, leaving behind wet footprints…

Father Creed tugs his collar, wishing there was a camera for him to look directly at…

[fade to-]