Well, hello there, Mr. E and J. Clone Prime, Chris Kringle up here at the North Pole, just

taking a moment to remember some of the good stories that we've shared over the years, and

well, this year I have another story for you and your listeners, so now I present to you

Twas the Night Before Squatchmas by Bobby Reich.

Twas the night before Squatchmiss went all through the house, not a creature was stirring,

not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St. Squatcheless soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of tree structures danced in their heads, and Shannon in her

kerchief with the dog and the cat had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, she sprang from the bed to see what was

the matter.

Away to the window she flew like a flash, tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow gave the luster of midday to objects below.

When what to her wandering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight large squatch deer.

With a big old driver so lively and quick, she knew in a moment it must be squatched Nick.

More rapid than Eagles, his courses they came, and he whistled and whooped and called them

by name. Now Bigfoot, now Yeti, now Yowie and Booger, on Almas, on ape-man, on dogman

and Gugu. To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now dash away, dash away, dash away all.

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,

so up to the housetop, the coursers they flew with a slave full of oranges and St. Squashilis too.

And then in a twinkly, she heard on the roof the stomping

and thumping of each giant hoof as she drew in her head and was turning around down the

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