[Obnoxious saxophone intro music]

[Exterior: The outside of a happy snow-covered church]

[Merriam-Webster defines “exterior” as: Being on an outside surface: situated on the outside]

[Note from the studio: This is going to be a fucking disaster…]

[Note from the studio: Animation budget got slashed, roll with the storyboards…]

Hurry children! Hurry!

The choir has hummed the last noels! Get on your coats! Wrap your scarves tight round yer neck!

Hurry! Hurry!

Out the church doors! Down the church stairs! Across the church sidewalk!

Don’t you know what day it is? Why it’s December 23rd…

And December 23rd can only mean one thing…

That’s right! Father Percy Creed’s delectable dingers, zoo zads, and kissy kakes!!!

Follow the smell past the Ford F-150 with Direct Injection Fuel System, 10 Transmission Speeds, and 290 Horsepower. Yeah, this bitch, sure has legs all right, oh-ho-ho awwwwwwwwwwww yeah…those rims are c-l-e-a-n…the snow slides right off…I bet my milk would slide right off too-

-Oh yeah, oops. The Parish Center…

COME ON IN AND SEE WHAT FATHER PERCY’S COOKIN’!!!

[Camera pans uncomfortably close to the front door]

[Merriam-Webster defines “camera” as: A device that consists of a lightproof chamber with an aperture fitted with a lens and a shutter through which the image of an object is projected onto a surface for recording (as on a photosensitive film or an electronic sensor) or for translation into electrical impulses (as for television broadcast)]

[Camera leans down the right hallway]

[Interior: The inside of the happy snow-covered Parish Center, kitchen area]

[Merriam-Webster defines “interior” as: A representation (as in a play or movie) of the interior of a building]

Father Percy Creed slides in to [applause] and tends to baked goods in his happy, wholesome kitchen.

He fondles inside the oven with his silly little priest hands to fetch a tray of cupcakes and slides it down the counter. That’s the fifth one in a row!

Father Creed loves cooking cupcakes just as much as he loves sneaking in a bite or two or twenty, but no bites today. Next, he scuttles across to the counter with his silly little priest feet to sprinkle assorted red, green, and white sprinkles on the tasty treats. The perfect ratio, the perfect treats, the perfect ̶p̶e̶n̶i̶s̶ priest.

And what’s a perfect priest without his perfect kitchen? All utensils? Organized. All decorations? Full of Christmas cheer. The sink buzzes with water, and dish bubbles glisten in tune with the timed red, green, and white Christmas lights adorned on wreaths along the cabinets. This kitchen is perfectly decorated and operating as if by Santa’s silly little elves.

“Just right…” Father Creed sprinkles the final glistening, gleaming sprinkle on the exact final tip of the last to-be-topped-off cupcake.

All the sprinkles sparkle in celebration with the lights.

Father Creed nods, and music blasts from a Frosty the Snowman trinket from afar, and in sync, motorized children sing and dance ’round the snowman.

“Always just right…” Father Creed smiles and looks directly at the camera.

After every Christmas Eve mass, the church holds its annual luncheon, and Father Creed needs a whole lot of time to prepare a whole lot of treats! 

Oooooooooooh, his delectable, mouth-watering Christmas Eve treats. They taste like they are ever so fresh from the oven, which causes everyone to whisper that surely, somehow, “Ol’ Percy manages to crank all these bad boys out in one single day?” 

Ah, but that’s his silly little priest secret. He doesn’t. You see, he bakes the day before, on Christmas Eve, Eve.

Not such a fact would bother any patrons should they learn the truth because they wouldn’t be able to taste the difference. Ol’ Father Creed’s treats never go stale and never crumble, thanks to his secret preservation method of tucking them in with love and shielding them from sinful bacteria.

“With magic!” Father Creed douses the cupcakes with Christmas magic from a spray bottle of silly chemicals and tucks the tray in tight with aluminum foil. “With love!”

All in a day's work!

Wiping the sweat off his silly priest brow, he pops open the fridge. “Can’t relax without-

[Live studio audience goes ballistic with wolf whistles, and women start launching their drenched panties at the stage]

-my favorite beer!”

[Camera zooms in on a can of Bud Light]

“Time to crack open a coooooooold one!” *Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssst* He opens the beer as the foam sizzles to the top of the beer and strolls over to a table. “And a good book!” He flaps around a dictionary.

[Camera zooms in on Merriam-Webster’s Pocket Dictionary]

Father Creed wiggles his silly little priest butt down into a seat by a round table, gets ready to sip his beer, and thumbs to where he left off on the W’s. “I wonder what wonderous whimsical words I’ll learn about today-”

*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP* goes the oven!

Startled, he spills beer all over his apron!

[Uproarious live studio audience laughter]

“Oh no! The gingerbread men!” Father Creed jolts out of his seat and bolts over to the second oven. He rashly swings open the door and shoves his arm inside. "OUCH! HOT!" He forgot to put on his oven mitts during the rush!

[Uproarious live studio audience laughter]

He yanks open a cabinet drawer and fumbles around the countertop for those darn mitts…found it! Father Creed grabs a pair.

[Camera zooms in on oven mitts]

[The crammed-in text on the mitts read: “With lots of love ❤️” on the left one]

[and “to Father Creed ❤️” on the right one]

[Endearing *AWWWWWWWWWWWW* from live studio audience]

“Oh, sweet Mindy.” Father Creed slides on a warm smile as he slides on the mitts.