Across town, a lovely and far more traditional version of the same carol kicks in on the soundtrack as the camera lingers briefly upon a gorgeous Craftsman-style faĂ§ade before ducking inside to take in the meticulously-decorated main stairwell, complete with a tree that looks like it's twenty goddamned feet tall. Something heavy unexpectedly trundles across the rooftop just as a curly-haired rugrat of indeterminate gender materializes at the top of the stairs, and a shower of soot cascades from the chimney into the hearth as the rugrat arrives on the main floor with an anticipatory smile plastered across his, her, or its face. The lovely carol comes to an abrupt and grisly end when The Thing In The Chimney growls and boots the fireplace screen onto the floor in front of the rugrat. We never do get anything like a good look at The Thing From The Chimney, but It appears to be dressed all in leather (or, more likely, given what we learn later, something leatherlike, but people-based) from Its head to Its foot, and Its clothes are all tarnished with ashes and soot, so that's good, I suppose. As the indeterminately gendered rugrat stands gaping in astonishment -- rather than screaming away in terror, because every single child on television is a drooling moron -- The Thing From The Chimney towers overhead for a moment before mouth-breathing Its way upstairs. We watch Its progress entirely from the indeterminately gendered rugrat's perspective, by the way, and the carol's kicked back in, because this scene wasn't nearly as creepy enough. No, sir.
Once The Thing's reached the second floor, It vanishes into the master bedroom, and a woman screams right before a heavy thumping noise seems to shut her up, and the next thing we know, The Thing From The Chimney's dragging a wriggling leatherlike and people-sized bag down the stairs. From the muffled, apparently gagged shouts emanating from the bag, it seems The Thing's retrieved the rugrat's father, by the way. And after dumping the still-writhing bag at the rugrat's feet, The Thing then evidently reaches in and -- with a meaty cracking noise, natch -- snaps the unfortunate gentleman's neck, for the muffled moaning instantly stops. Raoul would shriek in outraged dismay over the lack of blatant gore at this juncture, I'm sure, but the dear thing's already slammed back so much booze that he's now passed out in his overstuffed armchair. Lush. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" In any event, The Thing next looms over the indeterminately gendered rugrat for a very lengthy moment until It stretches a blood-stained hand...past the kid's head to snatch a cookie from Santa's plate! Hee! The Thing From The Chimney munches noisily on the treat before stooping down to drag the now ominously still Bag O' Dad into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!