Dear congregants, we have once again, we have once again circled that despicable sun, only to find ourselves trapped in the false holiday, whose name we dare not speak.

Yeah, yeah, you've probably heard of it. It begins with a crisp, and it ends with a false story.

The story must be told.

The story must be told.

But false story or not, we gather here today.

Without all the fancy, consumerist propaganda, shut down our throats every story approved December.

We have a community that's beyond some simple gimmicks.

We don't need lights or ho-ho-ho-hoes or magic or a savior.

Or any of that pandery mumbo-jumbo.

All we need is a little thing called...

What was that sound on the roof?

Brother Reed, our security alarms on the roof just lit up like a story disavowed false holiday tree.

That's crazy talk.

Nobody could land on our roof without the story knowing. Unless...

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,

oh, story.

It's the story's magical brother.

That's right, it's Uncle Story.

Oh, oh, that's right, brother Reed.

And, Sister Callisto.

You know our names?

Of course I do.

...