 Twas the night before Christmas went all through the house. Rates of responding were zero, even the mouse. The stockings were hung and did match the criteria, with an MO that St. Nick will arrive from Nigeria. The children were laying appropriately in bed, private events of sugar plums danced in their heads. With mom and her skivvies and I in the buff, she softly complained about my ugly scruff. Went out to the roof, there was high frequency noise. I got out of bed ready to punish the boys. Slow to get there because of my rash magnitude surged as I lifted the sash. Observations of outside showed me the snow, the brightness of midday in the yard below. When what to my questioning ice came in view, but a slate greatly reduced in size, and ate caribou. With a short elder driver rapidly responding no IRT, St. Nick's presence confirmed empirically. Faster than eagles, his caribou walked, he taxed them after he whistled, not balked. First dancer, second dancer, third prancer, first fixin', then Comet, next Cupid, finally Donner and Blitzen. Go to the porch, now off to the wall. Escape, do escape, escape, stimuli all. The light-footed caribou on behavioral cusp they wait to earn negative reinforcers by tempting their fate. Small altitude changes was all they could do because the sleigh was full of generalized stimuli too. Then in two seconds I heard noises above, the prancing and pawing high frequency of. Detecting salient stimuli I then spun around down the chimney St. Nick came each fecking bound. Unlike me he was dressed in fur head to foot. I scrambled for clothes on which I did put. With preferred items he had hung in his back, he intimidated, I mean imitated a peddler opening his sack. His eyes were so salient as were his dimples, but his nose overshadowed, his cheek with the pimples. His typical, his atypical mouth was shaped like a bow. All of his beard matched the color of snow. The stump of a pipe clenched in his teeth, the smoke circled his head like a holiday wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly. I saw it shake when he laughed. He'd had much vermicelli. Defined as a chubby and plump elderly humanoid, I responded with laughter alone yet slightly annoyed. A blank of an eye and rotation of his head signaled CMOR! No aversives to dread. With no verbal operant he went straight to work, filling the stockings he oriented quickly with a smirk. Placing his finger to the side of his nose, displaying a nod up the chimney he rose. He jumped on his sleigh, gave his team an SD. He lulled him via flying, they shot over the trees. But I heard him command as he faded from sight, hey moat, happiness all, and to all a successful night.