Some inmates escaped from the maximum security prison up the road and they're all downstairs in your basement raping each other and having a grand old taste of Christmas freedom. They're holding your cat hostage (MR JUMBLEBELLY NOOOO!) and they warned that if you call the police, the cat gets it. They promised not to hurt Mr. Jumblebelly as long as you leave them alone to have fun on the best Christmas they've had in 20 to life.
They're goodhearted prisoners. None of them ever killed anybody who wasn't asking for it. 'Cept for that one family of four who walked in on Ol' Cozzy when he was robbing the safe, but they reminded Ol' Cozzy of the suburban life he used to dream about when he was growing up on the streets, so he had to take them out just to wipe the existence of that kind of life off the face of the earth.
They're banging on the basement ceiling. That means they want you to put one of your stereo speakers face down on the floor so they can hear Christmas carols too. In an hour or so, Mr. Jumblebelly is going to come sauntering into the living room, having wandered away from them when they weren't looking. You'll hold him to you and check him for injuries, but he'll be fine. Even though there won't be anything stopping you, you're still not going to call the police. Not just yet. By the sound of all that shouting and moaning and begging for dear life, those prisoners are just having too good a time to ruin their Christmas with a bunch of grinchy old policemen.
Happy Escaped Prisoners Day!
