Rudolph’s the famous one, but only since he showed up. Before that foggy night, he was nobody. I was one of the original stars, me and Vixen. We’d go clubbing, carrying on till the wee hours. Show-girls go nuts for a pair of antlers.
One time, we’re at a ritzy club in Paris in the roaring 20’s, in the offseason. Vix and me are feeling no pain. Sometime after midnight, he switched from gin rickeys to shots of absinthe, I’m drinking champagne like it’s 7-Up. We’re hanging out with these two wild chicks from the Folies Bergere.
Just two eternally-young reindeer bucks, a couple of frisky can-can dancers and under 3 hours till dawn.
I don’t know when, but a leprechaun from one of “The Lesser Holidays” starts mouthing off to Vixen. Vix is starting to get a little trippy from the absinthe, and I’m not sure he even knew the wee man was real. I’m flying, but I know an insult when I hear one. Stumpy turned to me and called me a name which I won’t repeat here. I turned to walk away, then gave him a “Nordic tattoo” – two rear hooves to his chin.
All hell broke loose and next thing I remember we’re badly hungover and getting bailed out of the pokey by Santa’s lawyer. Sure, we caught some flak, but the memories of a good party were more than worth Santa’s reprimands – like he’s got room to talk anyway.
Below is a list of links to all the other Blogfestivus writers. You’re welcome to visit their blogs and even read their posts – but any comments should be limited to telling them how witty my post is.
Blogdramedy (Ring Leader, reindeer enthusiast, generally cool chick)