03x11 - Once Upon a Time - Christmas Special 2024 Part 2

[bunniefuu]

This will be a pantomime
like no other.

Together, we will make history.

Cause of death appears to be
a stab wound to the heart.

My poor Aubrey.
Who would do this to him?

Were you and your father close?

I hated him, but he's the only
family I had.

I can be your friend. It's a deal.

I hope I'm not a suspect.

Did Aubrey find out about
the affair?

He died without a will.
The bulk of the estate

passes to the surviving spouse.

I know you k*lled him.

Did you k*ll your last husband too?

There's something not right about
that girl. I haven't seen her shed

a single tear.

Has the cat got your tongue?

She's got... an eye!

Horatio Nelson has a name.

Silas Kaleb, age 72.

"Season's greetings
and a happy ever after."

I can't let you down.
The show must go on.

Oh, for goodness sakes, Samira.
Spit it out.

Shall I get your medication?

It transpires we have some sort
of serial m*rder*r on our hands.

Poisoned?

Did anyone see Samira eating or
drinking anything in the half hour

before her death?

Well, she was onstage rehearsing
the entire time.

Cinderella's strawberry!

I know they're your favourite.

Cinderella's going to bed
without any supper. I'll take that.

Ooh, that's sour!

Cinderella, are you still here?

Where did the strawberry come from?

From me.

I made it.

It was made out of marzipan
for the full props rehearsal.

Then what happened?

It went on the props table.

Anyone could have tampered with it.

But why would I k*ll Samira?

Maybe she discovered you were
responsible for your father's death?

I told you yesterday.

Bunny is getting everything -
my home, my inheritance.

She must be responsible.

Thank you, Miss Frobisher.

We'll be in touch
if there's anything else.

Ah, Sister. What have you got?

A possible m*rder weapon.

Good man! I'd say its maker
was our prime suspect.

Why would anyone
want to poison my wife?

We were hoping you might be able
to shed some light.

Did she have any enemies?
Enemies?

The woman's a saint.

Was a saint.

Are you aware of your wife's
emergency meeting with

Aubrey Frobisher the day he died?

No, I know nothing about it.

It was to do with
the panto charity account.

Sorry, I...

I can't believe she's gone.

Please, find out who's done this.

Don't doubt it, Mr Rowbotham.

Due to last night's tragedy,
I'm afraid we are now

two cast members down.

They're not "down"!

They were felled! m*rder*d!

Well, of course we're not
being picked off one by one!

This isn't Phantom Of The Opera.

Look, I have Great Slaughter's
finest on the case, and every faith

that they will solve it imminently.

Great stuff.

Moreover, since when have GSADS
let m*rder

get in the way of a performance?

He's got a point!

It is for the children. Huh?

Then the show will go on.

And a starring role to fill.

I've got just the person in mind
to play our new wicked stepmother.

Well, it is a big role,

but if there's really no-one else.

I meant Dorothy.

I could have sworn for a second
he said... me!

Are you... sure that she's
the right fit for the role?

Trust me, she's perfect.

The subversion of expectation.

Evil wearing the visage
of an angel.

Dorothy, come with me
and I'll walk you through it.

You should know that learning
lines isn't exactly my forte.

That's what improvisation is for.

Well, this has gone far enough!
Hector, I insist you do something.

Me?!

Well, with both Aubrey
and Samira gone,

you are acting chairman of GSADS.

I insist you call an emergency
general meeting.

Hello, Wilf, how can I help you?

I want to confess
to the m*rder of Mrs Rowbotham.

What reason did you have
for k*lling Mrs Rowbotham?

She was a bad person.

Bad people should be punished.

It's in the Bible.

How was she a bad person?

She punished us.

All the children hated her.

The Sunday School Medley?

No.

At the orphanage.

Mrs Rowbotham
worked at your orphanage?

She used to be matron.

We called her the Wicked Witch.

Can you tell us
what you poisoned her with?

Rat poison?

Of course, we didn't believe
a word of it.

But as he's confessed and given us
a possible m*rder weapon,

we have no choice but to arrest him.

Spit it out.

Well, toxicology results
were very revealing.

Samira was m*rder*d with strychnine,
which just so happens

to be a component of rat poison.

Thank you for coming.

It sounded urgent.

Do I deduce you've been
investigating?

I believe a crime
has been committed.

The fox was framed.

Sister Boniface confirmed death
by rat poisoned strawberry,

but we've precious little in
the way of suspects or motive.

We have a name for the child.

A daughter, Janice, 50.

She's our only lead.
We need to find her.

Let's carry out background
and criminal record checks.

I've got something. Hallelujah!

Samira Rowbotham -
you know those charities?

CFYC? Henson Collection? Wheels?

They're all bogus.

The money's been diverted
into one account.

Whose?

"So in the dead of night,
they sent their soldiers who hid

"a golden cup on the princess
and said she was a thief.

"They put her in chains
and locked her in a tower."

Stop!
You aren't allowed in here, madam.

I heard you confessed.

Why would you do that?

I'll have to ask you to leave, Miss.

Please, Wilf. You don't understand
what will happen to you.

I don't understand.

Aubrey became suspicious
of these bogus charities.

If you were caught embezzling,
you would have been finished -

both professionally and personally.

So, you k*lled him.

You've got it all wrong.

But now Samira knew about it.

She was under suspicion herself.

Did she threaten to hand you in?

I didn't take that money!

Well, your bank statements
say otherwise.

It was my account in name only.

Of course, married women can't
have bank accounts

but Samira dealt with all
the finances.

All I did was sign the cheques.

I didn't even look
at the bank statements.

She went on quite a spending spree.

A new car, a new dish washing
machine, a central heating system.

And you never questioned
where the money came from?

I just assumed she was adept
with the housekeeping.

I don't know anything
about this missing money.

A married man hands over complete
control of his finances to his wife?

It's a hard story to swallow.

Men like me, weak men like me,

need women like Samira to survive.

She was my shield and my strength.

I don't know how I'll cope
without her.

Who sent you this?

No idea. Why?

I think we all agree.

The recasting of wicked stepmother
is the final straw.

No offence, Dotty. None taken.

You're much better at being
wicked than I am.

Well, perhaps Jonas had a point
about the subversion

of good and evil.

Dotty?

Oh, God! Yes. Yes, you're right.

He's hijacked our opus
for a vanity project and turned it

into an Ibsenesque farce.

I mean, it's a travesty, a disaster.

Insanity!

Well, thank goodness
you've seen the light.

Something must be done.

Although I'm not sure what.

Tar and feathering.

Yes, well, maybe something
that manages to avoid

actual physical harm.

Bravo, Sam.

Painted by the same hand...

and with the same rather
odd greeting inside.

I wonder if Aubrey Frobisher
received one, too.

Funny you should say that.

We went straight back,
and lo and behold...

Ah, yes.
You'll notice someone missing.

Saint Joseph.
Saint Joseph.

Correct.

Of course! Um...

Pass me the first card, will you?

Here, take a look at this.

The smudges in the trees.

On close examination, they aren't
smudges at all.

They're crows.

Here, and look at this.

What do you see in the window?

A wicked witch's face?

Are they some type of code?

We're looking for one m*rder*r
for all three victims.

What was the link?

Find the link
and we catch our k*ller.

Whilst we appreciate
all your efforts and, uh, flair

as a director, the time has come
for a parting of the ways.

Et tu, Brute?

We are not worthy
of your talents, maestro.

I mean, it's not you. It's...

It's us.

Are you absolutely sure
you want to do that?

I'm the star billing.

Critics are flocking to see it.

It's not about the critics.
It's about the audience.

It's always about the critics!

And what will I say when they ask
why Jonas Blake walked away from

his much-anticipated
directorial debut?

That he was unable to work with
a ramshackle troupe of amateurs

who, by their own admission,
weren't worthy?

We'd be the laughing
stock of the county!

You'll be national laughing stocks.

It'll be plastered over the arts
pages of every newspaper.

Are you blackmailing us?

I'm helping you to reach
your heights.

Have courage to be the avant-garde.

When the reviews are out,
you'll know I was right.

You can go down in history
as groundbreakers,

or with your reputation shredded.
The choice is yours.

I take it this is extra curricular?

Reverend Mother.

Oh, I seem to have lost
track of time.

I'll be out of here
in two shakes of a...

You carry on, Sister.

Oh, yes.

Righto.

I assume you're looking
for Samira Rowbotham's k*ller?

I heard the boy confessed to m*rder.

What was he thinking?

He could be diagnosed criminally
insane and sent to Broadmoor.

You're very fond of Wilf.

He reminds me of my...
my brother Dougal.

Only, my parents refused
to send him away.

Daddy said that with 11 already,
one more would make no difference.

Except that he did.

He was our ray of sunshine.

He was blessed. He had a family.

Unlike poor Wilf.

People like Dougal and Wilf
don't need locking away.

They need the same as everyone
else - love, care and purpose.

Amen to that.

Right, I'd better get on with this.

Do your best work.

Yes.

It's just, um,
it is a bit distracting with you...

Goodnight, then, Sister.

Don't forget to turn off
the lights when you leave!

Good morning, sir.
Good morning, Felix.

I found a 30-year-old conviction
for Silas's daughter, Janice.

Larceny. She was a maid who stole a
valuable bracelet from her employer.

That would explain the fallout
with her family.

That's not all, though.

Her employer was
Aubrey Frobisher's mother.

Which means we now have a link
between Silas Kaleb

and Aubrey Frobisher.Right.

One last thing.

The arresting officer was
Police Constable Hector Lowsley.

Heard you were looking for me?

Take a seat, please,
Sister Reginald.

Don't mind if I do.

Oh! Bunions have been giving me
the right gyp.

What's this? Third degree?

You are trying our patience,
Sister Reginald.

But it is of no matter.

We have ways of making you talk.

We have questions regarding
the alleged apprehension

of Terry the turkey.

Sister Peter, it turns out,
is quite the Sherlock Holmes.

Shouldn't you be talking to the fox?

The edges have a pointed end.

This fence wasn't torn
by tooth and claw.

It was wire cutters.

And this - allegedly ripped out
in the struggle.

Except lack of skin or blood
or trauma on the calamus suggests

it was shed naturally.

So what? And tests reveal the blood
to be a mixture of cocoa

and icing sugar.

And finally, turkey footprints
on the outside perimeter

of the fence, heading
in the direction of the woods.

I raised him from an egg.

He's a cheeky little ball of fluff.

We just got on from the off.

The thought of chopping
his head off...

never mind him being cooked!

Eaten!

If it's any consolation,
the guilt's been k*lling me.

I never meant we'd go hungry
Christmas Day.

Not goose? I ask you!

Has the woman lost her marbles?

There's only one thing for it.

Confession, repentance, absolution.

I'll fess up to Reverend Mother.

I hope she remembers the absolution.

And at least Terry is free.

He's probably running in the woods,
trying his wings

and foraging for berries.

Good old Terry.

It must be 30 years ago.

I was a wet behind
the ears constable

partnered with Sergeant Derek Spike.

Janice Kaleb was accused of stealing
a bracelet from her employer,

and she was married to some
ministerial whatnot

so we had to take it seriously.

I had no idea that the son
was Aubrey Frobisher. The son?

When arrested, Janice claimed
to be pregnant by the son

of the house and that the family
were trying to get rid of her.

What did the family say?

Well, they denied it, naturally,
and said that their boy hadn't laid

a finger on her and that she was
the sort of girl that was known

to be loose with her favours.

Aubrey Frobisher!
I mean, who'd have thought it?

Didn't you interview him?

Well, he was up at Oxford
at the time.

And by then, it was too late anyway.

Derek Spike and I had already
searched the parents' house

and found the bracelet in her
bedroom under a floorboard.

Yeah.

It wasn't till later
that I had cause to doubt.

Sir?

Er, yes. Well, not long after,
Derek Spike was, well, turfed out

of the force
for bribery and corruption.

He went into security, and a year
later was k*lled in a raid

on a bullion depot.

It wasn't till much later
that we discovered

that he was an inside man.

Do you think the family
bribed him to plant the evidence?

Well, with the benefit of
hindsight, damn right I do!

But it was too late for
Janice Kaleb.

She'd already served her sentence
of three months for larceny.

I don't suppose you know
what happened to her?

We're working on it, sir.

We now have a link between
Silas Kaleb and Aubrey Frobisher.

But how are they linked
to Samira Rowbotham?

What did you find out, Sister?

Well, I didn't recover
any forensic evidence,

but under the microscope,
the card stock shows subtle

variations,
possibly caused by the presence

of an invisible watermark.

Sister?

What's that?

Toxicology results
on Wilf's rat poison.

Right...

So, here's the thing.

I don't have all day,
Sister Reginald!

It's about Terry.Ah.

So your conscience is troubling you,
letting a fox take him?

That's it, see.

He wasn't.

Taken by a fox.

He wasn't taken by a fox?

He wasn't... taken by a fox

because...
He wasn't taken by a fox

because Terry is safely returned
and back in his pen!

Is there something wrong with your
vocal cords, Sister Reginald?

Why didn't you just come out
with it in the first place?

Oh, this is joyful news!

I shall bear the good tidings
to Sister Lawrence myself.

Oh, yes!

I'm sorry.

God's will, innit?

Right... Wilf, you're free to go.

You know that rat poison?

We tested it, and it was salt
and bicarbonate of soda.

Did you get it from the props table?

Yes.

You know, wasting police time
can be a serious offence.

Are you going to tell us
why you did it?

I don't know.

All right.

Come on. There's someone we want
to fetch from the hospital.

But first, there's someone
waiting for you at reception.

Come on.

Eucalyptus?

Bingo!

Oh, yes! Sam, it's me.

I think I know who sent the cards,

but I can't for the life
of me think why.

The princess pushed the soldiers
from the top of the tower

and escaped with the golden egg.

The egg hatched into a beautiful
baby dragon who the princess loved

like the sun and moon
and all the stars.

Well, I'll be there.

And not to worry -

Mum's the word!

Why did you confess to
k*lling Samira?

I heard the police. They said you
were suspect number one.

I suppose I should be flattered!

Did you think I did it?

I saw the tin of poison
in the props cupboard.

I just didn't want you to
get caught.

Look, if I was going to m*rder
someone, I'd think of something

much more inventive than poison.

Like trampling them to death
with a herd of horses!

See - you have thought about it!

You could have gone to prison.

I'm already in prison.
Are you still my friend?

You're a champ, Wilf Wilson!

You confessed to m*rder for me.

I'd say that makes us
friends forever. Until you leave.

Shall we get some mulled wine?

I've never had mulled wine.
You'll like it.

Just don't get tipsy and confess
to another m*rder!

We'll need to use forced entry.

We don't have a warrant.
Well, we don't need one

if we suspect someone's breaking in.

Well, no-one's breaking in.

Not yet, they're not. Out the way.

Back door was open!

Hellooo?

Hello?

Is there anybody there?

I hope you're right
about this, Sister.

Well, all three cards were made
from eucalyptus pulp.

Not to mention the watermarks
of the golden wattle,

the flower indigenous to Australia.

And it seems we have our artist.

But how is Jonas Blake, the son
of an outback farmer, linked

to all of our victims?

Locked. Need to find something
to jimmy it open.

Oh, allow me. A little something
I picked up from Father Brown.

What's that?

I have no idea.

Look.

"Once Upon A Time by Janice Kaleb.

"For my son, Jason."

Jason Kaleb.

It's an anagram of Jonas Blake.

Some kind of fairy tale.

And it appears
the final illustrations

were made by a different hand.

The same as the Christmas cards.

Dedicated to Silas Kaleb,
Aubrey Frobisher,

Samira Rowbotham and...

Felix, get the station
on the telephone.

I say, old boy,

I may have tried to oust you,
but this is, um...

a bit extreme, don't you think?

When this rope is cut,
you'll plummet like a stone.

But before that, I want to tell
you a story.

Every night as I was going to sleep,

my mother would tell me
a fairy tale.

Only later I realised
it was no tale.

So... if you are hanging
comfortably, I shall begin.

Once upon a time there was
a beautiful princess

with hair as golden as the sun.

Her father told her that if she was
virtuous and pure, then one day

she would meet a handsome prince.

Did this princess have a name?

Janice.

Janice Kaleb!

You're her son.

What? So she didn't give you up?

She refused.

Worked her fingers to the bone
in menial jobs to keep us together.

But we're getting ahead
of ourselves.

The princess grew up virtuous
and pure,

and one day she met
a handsome prince.

He said he loved her and gave
her a golden egg.

But the handsome prince turned
into a frog,

and it was a knife to her heart.

Aubrey Frobisher...

You k*lled your father!

He was no father.

He seduced my mother with promises
of marriage, then denied my

very existence, and continued
to deny me to the end.

This is a mistake, I tell you!

You've confused me
with someone else.

I never knew Janice Kaleb.

I knifed him in the heart
as he did my mother.

And you k*lled Silas Kaleb!

Who's telling this story?

Oh, no, no, no.
The floor is yours, old bean!

Literally.

The princess returned
to her father's castle,

but he was angry his daughter had
married a frog

and cast her out into the winter
snow, where she would freeze

with her eyes pecked out by crows.

Father and grandfather.

Well, this is turning into a...

well, quite the familicide!

He cast her out for bringing
shame on the family.


the clothes on her back.

Although I will admit he was
the only one to cause me hesitation.

I looked in his face
and I saw my mother's eyes.

Good afternoon, sir.
My car broke down.

Can I use your telephone
to call for help?

Only the resemblance
stopped there.

Only tuppence for the call.

A poetic justice, don't you think?

And so the story continues.

The princess made her way
to the frog prince's kingdom.

But the king and queen didn't want
it known that their son

had turned into a frog.

And so, in the dead of night,
they sent their soldiers,

who hid a golden cup on the princess
and said she was a thief.

They put the princess in chains
and locked her in a tower.

Hang on a jolly minute!

I want it on record that Derek Spike
was responsible for that.

I've never taken a bribe in my life!

Unless, of course, you count
the, um, the odd pork chop

from Ted Button for turning
a blind eye to his delivery van

for obstructing the high street.

But, you know, I mean, that's
more of a civic duty, really.

I mean, after all, a town without
meat is a city under siege.

Obviously, you'd deny it!

From corrupt constable
to Chief Constable.

All the farther to fall
from your ivory tower.

The princess pushed the soldiers
from the top of the tower

and escaped with the golden egg.

The egg hatched into a beautiful
baby dragon, whom the princess

loved like the sun and moon
and all of the stars.

And they all lived happily...

Wait! You haven't finished yet!

Your story ends here.

Sorry! Um, I don't mean to interrupt
you mid rehearsal, but Trevor Jones

has lost his asthma inhaler
and thinks

it might have been when the Sunday
School medley were rehearsing.

She's harmless, Jonas. Let her go.

She's a witness.

Don't think about running, Sister.

My upbringing wasn't up to much,

but I can hit a moving possum
at 40ft.

I'm not afraid of death.

It goes with the job.

But I couldn't help overhearing,

and I do hate not knowing
how a story ends.

When I was eight, my mother got
TB from years of living

in mouldy tenements.

I was sent to an orphanage
while she spent months in hospital.

The baby dragon was stolen from
the princess by a wicked witch.

She locked it in a cage
and sent it to the dark lands

across the world, and told
the princess her dragon was dead.

I was wondering when we'd get
to Samira Rowbotham.

She should never have been
in charge of children.

She hated children.

Particularly the ones
who challenged her.

We were labelled wayward
and a special punishment meted out.

Samira Rowbotham locked you in
a cage and sent you to Australia?

She told me my mother didn't
want me and selected me

for the child migrant program me.

Thousands of us - the orphaned, the
unwanted, the drains on society...

promised loving homes,

then shipped off like convicts
to lives of abuse.

When my mother returned for me,

they told her I was dead.

Well, that's not on!

Some of us had their names
changed to stop their families

looking for them.
And what happened to you?

I was adopted by outback farmers.

They didn't want children.

They needed unpaid lab our.

Five of us living in a shed because
God forbid we dirty their house.

You poor child.

I escaped as soon as I was big
enough to outrun the old git.

Then Melbourne, and the end
of our story.

The dragon grew bigger and stronger

until it could fly back across
the world, where it sought out

those who had wronged the princess
and rained fire on them!

And they all lived happily
ever after.

Wait!
I've got you, sir!

Who's up there?

Get down here now!

I think he's got percussion!

I'm very sorry for what happened
to you and your mother.

You both suffered terribly
at the hands of others.

Thank you, Sister.

You know, you're the first person
to say that.

May I ask what happened to Janice?

On returning to England,
I tracked her down.

I wanted to parade my success.

Show her how wrong she was
for abandoning me.

So... you found her?

I was nearly too late.

She was in hospital,
riddled with cancer.

And far from abandoning me,

she believed for all those years
that I was dead.

At least she died knowing the truth.

She only lived a few more days.

She said they were the happiest
days of her life.

When I heard her story, I swore
on her dying breath to avenge her.

Completing her fairy
tale felt appropriate.

I think she would be proud.

Don't you?

I will pray for you.

With me.

Well, a grateful thank you
once again, Sister.

And I hope you'll accept a reward

by way of a Christmas gift

from the Great Slaughter Police.

Perhaps a new, um,

well, gizmo thingy for the lab?

h*, h*, h*, h*, h*, h*, h*!

And what would you
like for Christmas, little girl?

A dolly?

A spinning top?

A high-range microscope.

Infrared camera? Spectrometer?

Cyanoacrylate?

Fuming chamber?!

Actually, sir, there is something.

He's my half brother.

And he m*rder*d our father.

It's revolting.

He was taken from a loving
mother and condemned

to a childhood of abuse.

It's impossible to know the damage
it inflicted on his mind.

This place is cursed.

I can't wait to sell up and get
out of here.

Actually, you'll need to accompany
us to the station

to answer a few
questions about your husband.

Why do you want to talk
about Aubrey?

Your first husband -
the one you claim made you a widow -

when he is, in fact,
alive and well in France.

He's dead to me

after running off with that croupier
from Monte Carlo.

I was, to all intents, a widow.

Not in the eyes of the law.

Bigamy is a criminal offence.
Come on.

As is fraud for monetary gain.
This way.

I don't understand.
What does this mean?

Well, it means that your father's
marriage was never legal.

And as his sole heir,
all this is yours.

We can't let this defeat us!

Yes, true -

our director went on a k*lling
spree, but now he is safely

behind bars and our opening
night is sold out.

We can't carry on!

This will be all over
the newspapers.

The Pantomime of Death!

There is no such
thing as bad publicity.

And what about the little children?

Well, no, it isn't Christmas
without the pantomime.

We'll pick ourselves up,
dust ourselves down,

and garner our fighting spirit!

Oh! Thank you, Tom.

It will be an honour for me
to take over as director.

I'll gird my loins,

go back to the book, and we will
deliver what we do best!

A traditional Christmas
family entertainment!

Hurrah!

There's extra cranberries
and raisins in there.

You're a top geezer, Terry.

I could see that the minute
you hatched.

And you're a very good listener.

I want you to know,
I hope you had a good life.

I shall miss our little chats.

I'll make it quick.

You won't feel a thing.

Sister Reginald, no!

What?

Hello, Wilf!

Am I in trouble?

Have you done something?

You aren't in trouble! Sit down.

I wanted to talk to you
about this...

Maplecrest Farm.

It's a new facility.
Very progressive.

It's for people like you who want
to live more independent lives.

It looks nice.Yes.

There are 18 residents and trained
staff to look after everybody

and supervise them in the community,
in their jobs.

They have jobs? Oh, yes.

Either on the farm
or in the community.

Now, I've spoken
to the relevant authorities.

Obviously there would have to be
an assessment, but the place

is yours if you want it.

And you'd have friends.

You're my friend.

And friends help each other out.

It's not far from here,
and you'll need a job

while I need help
at my new livery yard.

That way, we would see each other
almost every day.

So... what do you think?

Deal.

Oyez! Oyez!

By royal decree, King Otto
invites you to tonight's

performance of... Cinderella!

Cinderella, look at this!

Buttons? Buttons!

Give that to me!

The king is holding a grand ball
to find a bride for the prince!

Every eligible maiden in the land
is invited.

I'm going to marry a prince!

Cinderella is the prettiest girl
in the land!

Isn't she, boys and girls?

No, she isn't!

Oh, yes, she is!

Enough!

Any more noise out of you lot

and I'll have you all put
in the stocks

and pelted with vegetables!

I'm talking to you,

the little boy in the red jumper
in the third row.

I've got my eye on you.

First, Buttons,
you've got to run my bath.

Righto!

Righto.

Then you've got to shave my legs.
Righto!

Why do you keep saying "righto"?

Because you're standing
on my right toe!

Your invitation to the ball.

Are you happy, Cinderella?

Yes, I am.

Then tear it up!

Crystal slipper?!

You couldn't fit your foot in
the Crystal Palace!

Ha-ha-ha-ha!

She's behind you!

What? She's behind you!

A winter strawberry!

Oh, I'm so hungry!

How can I ever thank you, Buttons?

How about a kiss?

I've never kissed a boy.

Aw!
It's easy.

Close your eyes and pretend
you're blowing out a candle.

Woo!

Aw!

Joy To The World

A few words before we start.

Make it a few! I'm starving!

Let us thank God
for this magnificent feast

and the Great Slaughter Police
for their generous gift

of this magnificent bird.

Amen.

Happy Christmas, Sister Reg.

♪ Joy to the world, the Lord is come

♪ Let Earth receive her King

♪ Let every heart prepare Him room

♪ And heaven and nature sing

♪ And heaven and nature sing

♪ And heaven and nature sing

♪ And heaven, and heaven
and nature sing ♪