Clean and sober goin’ on 80-some years now. Nothing worse than a reformed boozer though, right? Running with the boys was a blast, but speed kills. Who’d know that better than a flying reindeer?
One time in France, I was on a bender with Dancer. We’d been to the Folies, saw Josephine Baker do the Banana Dance. I was drinking gin and had show girls fondling my antlers. We ended up in a smokey club and I started hitting the absinthe. Thats’s when things got weird. I was so twisted, I saw a little man in green calling me a “horny arse”. I closed my eyes to escape the apparition, and when I opened them, he was gone.
Bouncers and bartenders were pushing us outside and yelling at us. The show girls had disappeared. I would have thought they were illusions too, except for the silk stocking I found hanging from my antlers in the jail cell. Dancer was piss drunk, and amused by everything.
As the absinthe high faded and Dancer slept off the champagne, I sat there thinking. I had 7 other deer, a fat guy and millions of kids counting on me. We had no GPS or Rudolph back then. A sleigh full of toys falling out of control because of stoned reindeer would not make a pretty landing.
I walked out of that cell on changed hooves. It’s been nothing stronger than oats and Arctic raspberries for me ever since.
Below is a list of the links to my fellow Blogfestivus writers. I hope they appreciate the effort I’m expending here. I’m delivering them the gift of readers and potential followers, all tied up with a pretty bow. Hey! Stop picking at that bow!
Blogdramedy (Ring Leader, reindeer enthusiast, generally cool chick)