At home, Charlie Brown looked out at the still-falling snow, put on his coat, and sauntered outside. He stopped to look in his mailbox.

"Hello in there!" he yelled inside it.

"Hello in there ... Hello in there ... Hello in there ... " an echo replied.

"Rats," Charlie Brown said, frowning. "Nobody sent me a Christmas card today."

He began walking, talking to himself.

"I almost wish there wasn't a holiday season. I know nobody likes me. Why do we have to have a holiday season to emphasize it?"

He met a black-haired girl with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Thanks for the Christmas card you sent me, Violet," he said mockingly.

"I didn't send you a Christmas card, Charlie Brown," the girl said, mocking him right back. She walked away.

"Don't you know sarcasm when you hear it?" Charlie Brown called after her, and continued walking.

He noticed a very dirty snowman, with a cloud of dust around it. The dust turned out to be from a mousy-haired boy, who was just as dirty as the snowman.

"Pig-Pen," Charlie Brown sighed, "You're the only person I know who can raise a cloud of dust in a snowstorm." Pigpen looked proud.

He came across a doghouse, with Snoopy on top of it. There was a stack of bones beside the doghouse, taller than Charlie Brown, and Snoopy would occasionally take one and munch on it for awhile. Charlie Brown sighed again, where he met a group of two girls, one short and black-haired, the other taller with dark brown hair, and two boys, Linus and another, blond-haired.

"Try to catch snowflakes on your tongue," the brown-haired girl said. "It's fun."

Linus caught one and chewed on it. "Mmmm!" he said. "Needs sugar."

"It's too early," the dark-haired girl said. "I never eat December snowflakes; I always wait until January."

"They sure look ripe to me, Lucy," Linus declared.

By and by the kids noticed a can up on the fence, and tried to knock it off with snowballs, without success. Linus scooped up a huge mound of snow in his blanket, whirled it around, and shot it at the can like a slingshot, knocking it into the high reins of the atmosphere. Linus walked triumphantly passed the stunned group. Lucy frowned.

"You think you're so smart with that blanket," Lucy growled at Linus. "What're you gonna do with it when you grow up?"

"Maybe I'll make it into a sport coat," Linus shot back.

Charlie Brown walked over to a booth that resembled a kids' lemonade stand — except this stand said, "PSYCHIATRIC HELP - 5 CENTS. THE DOCTOR IS OUT." Charlie Brown sat down on the little stool beside it.

"I think you have a customer," the blond-haired boy said to Lucy.

"Thanks, Schroeder," Lucy said, and dashed over to the booth. She turned the "THE DOCTOR IS OUT" sign to read "THE DOCTOR IS WAY IN."

"May I help you?" Lucy asked Charlie Brown.

"I'm in sad shape..." Charlie Brown began.

"Wait a minute," Lucy interrupted. "Before you begin, I must ask that you pay in advance. Five cents, please."

She handed Charlie Brown a little metal can, and Charlie Brown dropped a nickel in it, with an audible clink sound.

"Boy, what a sound!" Lucy exclaimed. "How I love to hear that old money clank, that beautiful sound of cold hard cash! That beautiful, beautiful sound. Nickels, nickels, nickels! That beautiful sound of plinking nickels. All right now," she continued to Charlie Brown, "what seems to be your trouble?"

"I feel depressed," Charlie Brown sighed. "I know I should be happy, but I'm not."

"Well, as they say on T. V.," Lucy began, "the mere fact that you realize that you need help, indicates that you are not too far gone ... I think we'd better try to pinpoint your fears. If we can find out what it is you're afraid of, we can label it.

"Are you afraid of responsibility? If you are, then you have hypengyophobia."

"I don't think that's quite it," Charlie Brown said.

"How about cats? If you're afraid of cats, you have ailurophasia."

"Well, sort of ... but I'm not sure ... "

"Are you afraid of staircases? If you are, then you have climacaphobia. Maybe you have thalassophobia. This is fear of the ocean. Or, gephyrobia, which is the fear of crossing bridges. Or maybe you have pantophobia. Do you think you have pantophobia?"

"What's pantophobia?"

"The fear of everything," Lucy smiled, leaning toward Charlie Brown.

"THAT'S IT!" Charlie Brown shouted angrily, shocking Lucy and knocking her to the ground.

As Lucy pulled herself up, Charlie Brown helped her, saying, "Actually, Lucy, my trouble's Christmas. Instead of feeling happy, I feel sort of let down."

"You need involvement," Lucy said. "You need to get involved in some real Christmas project. How'd you like to be the director of our Christmas play?"

"ME?" Charlie Brown exclaimed. "You want ME to be the director of the Christmas play?" He smiled crazily.

"Sure, Charlie Brown," Lucy replied. "We need a director; you need involvement. We've got a shepherd, musicians, animals, everything you need. We've even got a Christmas Queen," she said shyly, smiling.

"But I don't know anything about directing a Christmas play," Charlie Brown said worriedly.

"Don't worry. I'll be there to help you. I'll meet you at the auditorium. Incidentally, I know how you feel about all the Christmas business, getting depressed and all that. It happens to me every year."

Charlie Brown, however, was not focusing on her words, but instead watching Snoopy walk by. Lucy continued,

"I never get what I really want. I always get a lot of stupid toys, or a bicycle, or clothes, or something like that."

"What is it you want?" Charlie Brown asked her.

"Real estate," she replied.

They watched Snoopy walk by again, and Charlie Brown started following him. Snoopy led him to the doghouse. Dozens of boxes were around it.

"What's going on here?" Charlie Brown cried.

In response, Snoopy handed him a piece of paper and proceeded opening the boxes, containing Christmas lights and ornaments. He began to decorate the doghouse.

"What's this?" Charlie Brown asked. He read the piece of paper out loud, his tone of voice growing increasingly alarmed.

"Find the true meaning of Christmas! Win money, money, money! Spectacular supercolossal neighborhood lights and display contest?" He looked up. "LIGHTS AND DISPLAY CONTEST? Oh, no!

"My own dog, gone commercial. I can't stand it." He sighed, dropped the paper and started running toward the auditorium.

"I've been looking for you, big brother," a little girl with blond hair said, stopping Charlie Brown. "Will you write a letter to Santa Claus for me?"

"Well, Sally, I don't have much time," Charlie Brown replied. "I'm supposed to be making my way toward the auditorium."

"You write it and I'll tell you what I want to say," the little girl said, forcing a piece of paper and a pencil into Charlie Brown's arms.

"Okay, fine. Shoot."

"Dear Santa Claus, how have you been? Did you have a nice summer? How is your wife? I have been extra good this year, so I have a long list of presents that I want."

"Oh, brother."

"Please note the size and color of each item and send as many as possible," Sally continued, ignoring her brother. "If it seems too complicated, make it easy on yourself. Just send money. How about tens and twenties?"

"TENS AND TWENTIES?" Charlie Brown exclaimed, glaring at Sally. "Oh, even my baby sister!" He threw the paper and pencil into the air and Sally caught it, saying,

"All I want is what I have coming to me. All I want is my fair share."