Santa Monkey's coming to town...

"He sees you when you're sneaking.
He knows when you're passed out.
He knows when you've been nabbed by cops
So be discrete for cryin' out loud..."

The sock critters cover their ears, but can't completely block out the horrendous noise that is Heidi singing. Dave goes over to the radio and turns it up. It doesn't completely end the squeals, but it's a vast improvement.

"Stan, is there really a Santa Monkey?" As he asks, Cal sits at the feet of the worldly Stan. Or at least the critters think he's worldly. He does wear a smoking jacket, after all. Dave, Satan, GOB and his goat, and Dr. F gather around. Stan, realizing he has an audience, puffs out his chest.

"Of course there's a Santa Monkey!"

"Don't you mean Satan Monkey?" snorts Dave. Satan gives him a soul-leeching look. Dave blanches and moves closer to the witch.

Stan continues. "I remember this night back in '07 when Santa Monkey and I really painted the town. Ah, what a night. Santa had this gig where he would go down chimneys and hook up with the ladies. He was paid handsomely, too. All the milk and cookies he could imbibe."

"You mean...Santa Monkey is a gigolo?" asks an awe-struck Cal.

Digging himself an even deeper hole: "Yes. Yes he is. Or was, rather. He quit the night he went down Heidi's chimney. Did you know," he leans in and whispers to the group, "she walks around wearing nothing but ratty old lady underpants with knee-hi nylons and a halter top when she thinks no one is around?" He visibly shudders. "Boy, that's an image I'll never get out of my head."