Santa's Sleigh - A Christmas Story - Part I

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Following my 100-word Christmas themed story, I thought I might as well beat you over the head with this one. It’s much longer so I’ll split it in two. Feel free to pass but no reindeer were hurt or killed in the writing of this. “I’ll have no conflict in my household,” thundered Santa Claus. “Christmas is not about conflict. It’s about goodwill to all men. “ “Excuse me, Santa” said Dancer. “This isn’t about ‘men’. It’s about reindeer. We’re the ones in conflict and all the good will in the world isn’t going to persuade me to travel behind Comet.” Thanks to a delicate stomach and the over-consumption of curry pies at the Christmas party, the reindeers were revolting. No, that’s not quite right. Comet was revolting and the rest were in revolt. Yes, that’s how it was on that Christmas Eve many years ago. Santa’s reindeer had held their Christmas bash on Christmas Eve. The elves decorated the barn and Mother Claus made all sorts of delicacies. Unfortunately she had over-done the curry in the curry puffs. Comet, who had a penchant for curry puffs but a rather delicate stomach, had thrown caution to the winds and over-indulged. Now poor Comet’s tail was on fire and his flatulence had seen him ostracised. He had been allocated a toilet stall of his own for the duration but the real problem was still to be addressed. Who would be harnessed behind Comet in the sleigh? A hasty meeting was called with Santa. “I’m not being harnessed behind Comet,” said Vixen, her nose in the air, “I refuse to be in the firing line.” “Speaking of which, excuse me, I’ll be right back,” and off dashed Comet. Cupid was always paired with Comet so he wasn’t going to be in any danger. He sidled up to Vixen. “You’re quite right, my deer,” he said. “My, you’re some foxy lady,” he murmured, breathing Mountain Dew breath all over her. Vixen fluttered doe-like lashes at him. He was really quite handsome. In her bemused state, his aquiline nose looked rather noble and he certainly had the longest antlers, even longer than Rudolph’s. Dancer stamped a foot at Vixen. “You and Prancer always go in the rear. We need heavy reindeer to sit in the breeching and act as brakes. And you and Prancer are the heaviest. Dasher and I are much too dainty to be wheelers.” ‘Yes, dash it, we are,” agreed Dasher, hiding behind his big brother. Vixen lowered her head pointedly and shook her antlers at Dancer. “I am not weighty,” she said. “You’re just as big as me. But you’ve got a bigger mouth. And mostly you only open it to change feet.” She smirked then side-stepped as Dancer charged at her. With his head down, Dancer couldn’t see where he was going and, as Vixen stepped aside, he cannoned into Cupid who stumbled against Dasher. Mayhem broke out. Santa roared. Rudolph leapt into the middle of the group and spun round with his horns down. Stepping back, they glared at each other, panting and breathing steam in the warm barn.