Zero Audio You guys, hey, you guys hear how fucking sweet this is?

Yes, yes, we do.

That's great.

Well, it's the fucking season, gentlemen. It's sire for chestnuts roasting over the

missile toe, stocking filled with tannenbums and jollied troops of wass

jingling their biggie putings. It's that time of year when all sorts of

high-powered career gals return home to the small towns they grew up in

find that all they'd been searching for in the early burly of modern life was

really right under their noses all along and they should probably marry that cute, highly empathetic small town hunk.

And remember what's really important in life, which is embracing the heartwarming gender

roles dictated by tradition.

And what's more, it's also more than time

for Christopher Lee,

aka Saraman the White,

aka Lord Summer Isle of the Wickerman, aka British

Dracula. AK Kounduku. That's right Hunter. We forget. It's time for

Christopher Lee to sing traditional carols

and his late career dive into heavy fucking metal.

Yeah!

Oh, what if Christopher Lee's ghost was the big city girl

small town boyfriend's ghost dad

and you can take all the bloopers

...