The next morning, Calvin and Hobbes went outside and prepared for the play. Calvin was wearing his Bob Cratchet costume, which was a bunch of his old clothes professionally torn up by Hobbes.

"Okay, you be Scrooge," Calvin said. "You walk in, grumbling about the cold, and I ask what's wrong with you."

"Okay."

Hobbes quickly rubbed his face, getting his fur all rustled up. He bared sharp teeth, long claws, and yellowish eyes.

"BRRRR!" he shouted. "It is cold! I may have frostbite. Bug Humbar and whatnot!"

Calvin stared at him. "Bah Humbug," he corrected.

"What's that mean?"

"No, that's what you're supposed to say: Bah Humbug."

"That's what I said: Bug Humbar."

"Well, what does Bug Humbar mean?"

"What does Bah Humbug mean?"

Calvin slapped his forehead. "Just stick to the script and don't skip anything. And no improvising snowball fights unless I say so."

Hobbes dropped the snowball in his hand and resumed. "Okay, after the bug stuff, we move on to the part with the coal."

"Okay."

Calvin pulled a feather out of his pocket and waved it around.

"Good morning, Mr. Scrooge," he said in a voice that was higher than usual.

Hobbes looked down at him. "That voice is so high it could shatter paper," he said to himself. He resumed. "Bug Humbar. Get to work, Crotchet. You've got more paperwork."

"Mr. Scrooge, it is awfully cold in here. Might you give me yet another piece of coal for the stove?"

"NO! GET TO WORK! WE NEED NOT WASTE ANY COAL!" Hobbes shouted.

Calvin cleaned his ear out. "Okay, I apologize."

Hobbes went over to another part of the yard and pretended to work.

"Okay, that's good enough," Calvin decided.

Hobbes' head shot up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, I figure I should basically just get to the part where I say that Christmas is a time for happiness and joy and gifts and gastronomical prices on the Wal-Mart receipt."

"But what about the play?"

"Well, I've never been one to enjoy plays very much, so I'm planning on just skipping that part."

"What do you plan on doing when the director runs onstage and yells at you for ruining his dream?"

"Ah, guys like him have dreams to accomplish at least every two days. He'll be fine."

Hobbes rolled his eyes.

Calvin went back into the house. When he got there, he found that the house was twice as bustle as it was the day before.

Mom was baking up a storm to make up for what had happened last night. Dad was working furiously with his checkbook, going through receipts and the like.

Hoping to avoid conflict, Calvin and Hobbes slipped quietly past them. They scurried up the stairs and into the bedroom.

"Gee, what with all this conflict, I've forgotten to tell Santa what I want for Christmas!" Calvin cried. "We need to get started."

Calvin jumped into the desk chair and pulled out paper and pencil.

"Dear Santa, this year for Christmas, there's something I'd really like, so get your pen out. Please don't bring me another bike. I don't need ugly sweaters and I don't play much basketball. But there's something kind of special that I want most of all. I want an alien for Christmas. Bring me an alien this year. I want a little green guy about three feet high with seventeen eyes who knows how to fly. I want an alien for Christmas this year."

Hobbes stared at the letter Calvin was writing.

Calvin continued to write. "He can live in the bathtub, so don't worry about a thing, and I'll take him out for walks when it gets nicer in the spring. I'll always keep him company; he'll never be alone. And we can hang around the house all day. We can watch the Twilight Zone."

Hobbes rolled his eyes. "You want an alien for Christmas? Bring you an alien this year?" he questioned. "You want a little green guy about three feet high with seventeen eyes who knows how to fly?"

"I want an alien for Christmas this year," Calvin concluded.

"So you're asking Santa to bring you one of your own kind?"

"Shut up and help me with this. What else should I ask for?"

"How about better acting skills?"

"Hobbes, I need material items, not something that doesn't exist. I think I'll ask for an atomic nuclear missile launcher? I figure one minute with one of those babies would make up for this entire lousy month!"

"Yes, heaven knows you will have earned it," Hobbes said sarcastically.

"Hey, after I've fixed everyone, I will have."

"But shouldn't we be worried about that right now? Instead of planning, you're making a list of demands from the man you're trying to convince! This isn't going to make it easier to sway him."

Calvin looked up and dropped the pencil he was writing.

"You're right, Hobbes. We have a mission to get the sugarplums back into everyone's dreams, and here I am just thinking of myself."

"Technically that's what you were doing before this, but yeah."

Calvin tossed the list aside and pulled out another sheet of paper.

"Quick! We need to figure out what I'm going to say! The pageant is tomorrow!" he cried.

Hobbes thought hard.

"Um, okay, how about 'come on, be happy'?"

"Good, good, but it's not enough. Keep going!" Calvin said, scribbling down into the notepad.

"Okay, 'my devilishly handsome tiger and I are coming to you all on bended knees, asking that you look deep inside yourself and try to find that good ol' Christmas spirit. You've all been plagued by the Bug Humbar Bug, and we come to you with an antidote. As we end these four weeks of endeavor, we would like to remind you all that the spirit of Christmas not only lies within your shopping bags and checkbooks, but also in your hearts. Search deep inside yourself and you shall find that one shred of humanity that shows that you really do care, and that will be a sign that you understand. I want the usual: domination of Earth, happiness at the expense of others and personal ego gratification.'"

"Hey!"

"'But I also want to feel greater love and understanding for other people. Even obnoxious and cynical people like you lot, and people who laugh at me for being an idealistic simpleton. Merry Christmas to you all and to you all a good afternoon.'"

Calvin stared at him.

"You think I'm an idealistic simpleton?"

"And you wish to feel greater love and understanding for me," Hobbes replied.

Calvin looked at what he'd written. "Are you sure this is what the people want?"

"It's either that or we sing Silent Night, and you've never been able to sing that one part where your voice has to get really high."

"Hey, just wait until my voice changes. I'll show you!"

They looked at the notepad.

"Are you sure that I can't just throw slush balls at everyone to knock some sense into them?"

Hobbes gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Calvin sighed. He stuffed the notepad into his back pocket and they went back downstairs.

They knewexactly what they had to do.