Fiction by Tweed
Setting: North Pole, early morning on Christmas Eve. It’s a whirlwind of excitement as Santa and the elves get ready for another Christmas delivery. Santa’s pissed and the elves are tired. The reindeer are stupid, as usual. And Rudolph is coming down off a 4 day coke high.
“Alright, we have to load the sleigh, pack the cards, remember my GPS this year. I don’t want any more mistakes. Last year I ended up in the wrong country three times.
“This year I want Oreo’s, and lots of them. Those fucking kids leave the worst cookies. I had the shits for almost 2 months. How do you fuck up a cookie? You open the package, put it on a sheet, bake! It’s that goddamn simple. And I want fresh milk this year.
“Digger? Where the hell is Digger?”
“Right here Santa.”
“Digger, I want a fifth of Jack in that sled. Hell, after the first two million kids I need a drink.”
“Yes sir, Santa.” Digger was loyal to a fault.
“Where the hell is Rudolph? RUDOLPH!? Get your ass in here.”
Rudolph shuffles in. It has been a long year and he’s tired. The book tour, Oprah, all the morning shows. He was worn out. What he really needed was a vacation, about six weeks snorting coke off a hookers ass in Vegas. But that would have to wait. Santa needed him this year, really needed him. Blitzen was all fucked up. He had gotten into an argument with his wife and she had almost completely removed one of his testicles.
Comet and Cupid were fucking lazy. Dasher was coming down off a major meth addiction and Prancer got arrested for trying to mount a police officer in a park restroom. It was up to Rudolph, again, to hold this group together. He was tired of the responsibility. He just wanted to finish up this year and take his vacation.
“Rudolph, I’m counting on you again this year. You have to hold this group together. Look at them.” Santa swooshed a chubby arm at the group. “Just look at Vixen. She’s been mounted so many times I don’t think she has the energy to fly. It’s up to you. You have to rally the troops. Just one more time. Can you do it for me boy?”
“Yeah, I got your back Santa. But I want a paid vacation to Vegas when we get back. I’m tired of taking care of these screw ups!”
“I understand. Santa needs a little vacation with a ho, ho, ho and an 8-ball every once in a while too.”
So the sleigh was packed and the old man got all dressed up for another trip around the world. The shop was a whir of excitement as the elves scurried around making last minute preparations.
Gifts? Check.
List? Check.
Santa’s booze? Check.
Viagara? Check.
Santa needed his little pills on these long trips. It was going to be a long night and he had his share of hookups.
In Orlando he had been hooking up with a single mom for the last three years. In Boulder, Colorado he found some twins. Although his favorite spot was Melbourne, Australia. Four sorority girls he found last year. The only problem was that by the time the four sisters finished with him, he was almost too tired to continue on his appointed rounds. Last year Rudolph had to finish up the presents. Hundreds of thousands of parents couldn’t figure out why there was reindeer shit in their living rooms.
But Santa had a plan this year. He would skip the Orlando and Boulder houses and hit Melbourne first thing. He would still have the energy to make the rest of his rounds and get back in time for a little morning sex with Mrs. Claus. She was closing in on 150 years old but she could still give a great reach-around.
“On Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen. Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen….wait, where’s Rudolph?”
“Here I am.” Sniff, sniff.
“Ahh, a little pick-me-up before the flight, Rudolph?” Santa bellowed.
“Uh, yeah, something like that.” He turned to the rest of the reindeer. “Let’s go you fuckheads. And this year, keep your goddamn nose out of my ass. I’m sick of reindeer snot up there!”
“Ok, off we gooooooo!”
And they were off.
The elves watched Santa and the reindeer, led by Rudolph’s powder covered, glowing nose, shoot off in the sky.
“Think they’ll make it back here before New Years Eve this year?” Digger asked his assistant.
“I’m betting we find them in Hong Kong, mid-January, with a bus load of hookers and those midgets.” The assistant shook his head. He knew they’d have to go rescue Santa and the reindeer.
“Don’t forget about the donkeys. God I hate those fucking donkeys. The smell alone was enough to gag a maggot.”
And to all a good night!
