Somewhere in the cottages, late at night:
Two old dogs are lying by the fireplace.
- *Wheezing* Heard they brought a catgirl to the neighborhood yesterday? Persian breed.
- *Chewing his jowls* Mmm. You can't stick your… ap-paratus in her. Don't even dream about it.
- Oh, mon cher. She wags her tail so nicely on walks. How about we lure her out of the house tonight under the pretext of an excursion and screw her behind the fence?
A rustling sound comes from the chimney. Immediately after, a pile of snow and soot falls down, smothering the burning fire.
Then something heavy lands.
It's a dog in a Santa hat with an empty sack. He jumps out of the fireplace and grabs a shotgun that was hanging on the wall, cocking it with one finger.
- *Pointing the barrel at one of the dogs' faces* Merry Christmas, morons. Hand over the stew. All of it. Now.