Kristine is just sitting in her cozy chair. Equally confused. “...Percy?”

It now dawns on our silly little priest like a bowling ball through glass pins that everything that happened moments ago was all in his silly little priest's head.

Father Creed coughs nervously. “Oh, em hem, you know me…when I feel a song coming on, I gotta let it out…” He turns around. ...and something else was coming on… He sweats a little. ...you took your pills late this afternoon, that’s what it was…that’s what it was… He doesn’t understand. Father Creed has learned to live with his visions of Mrs. Claus and knows how to pull himself out (if you know what I mean), but what happened in his head with Kristine felt so “real” in a way…

“...Percy?”

“Ohhhhh, well, what did you think?” Father Creed tries to play it off.

“...I didn’t know your voice could go that high…”

“And when it does, boy, does it get parched.” Father Creed smacks his lips. “And boy, am I thirsty…” He stares at Kristine’s chest. “...and I know exactly how to quench this mighty thirst…”

Without warning, Father Creed CHARGES ON like searching for a treasured oasis in the desert of Bethlehem…and like following the North Star, soon he finds the source of his divine calling…

…which is Kristine’s magnificent mammaries…and this ain’t no nativity scene…but they can try to make one, if you know what I mean...

“Percy~❤️ Percy~❤️ What are you doing~?” Kristine moans.

“Baby is thirsty!” Father Creed suckles on her succulent nipples. *pok-a-pok-a-pok-a*

“Oh, Percy, be more gentle, you silly boy~❤️ You’re being too spoiled. There won’t be any milk and cookies left for Santa~❤️”

“NO! Baby needs more! Baby needs his milk!” Father Creed FEASTS on those tits like trying to swallow a whole holiday ham. “I need more milk! I NEED MILK!” *NOM* *NOM* *NOM*

“...eh?” Kristine sounds a little far away again.

Father Creed looks around…

“...you need milk?” Kristine asks. Doting, being the innocent sweetie that she is.

Oh God…Percy’s hallucinations are getting worse…it happened again and felt just as real…

“I sure do! Which is in the kitchen! For hot cocoa! Which is also in the kitchen!” Father Creed breaks out into an icy cold downpour of sweat. “I’ll make us some mugs, and then I’ll be right back.”

“...eh? But what about Holly?”

Father Creed zips off. “I’ll make her an extra large mug with lots of marshmallows!!!” Soon, he’s outta sight and outta his mind.

Kristine shuffles around in her seat, unsure what to make of it, but she’s happy to wait.

If there was an audience or a camera, which there isn’t, she would turn to shrug at the audience or the camera, again, which there isn’t, while some hilarious cue music plays, but as there is no audience or camera, she just waits the only way she knows how to do best…

“...eh?”