Dasher groaned as he got out of bed. Getting old sucks, he thought, lighting a cigarette and looking out at the falling snow.
From the bed, he heard a loud sigh. “I hate this season,” Mandy said. “You always get so anxious.”
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Dasher said absently. He’d been saying that for ten years now, and every year it became more and more true.
“Then let’s go!” Mandy cried. “Let’s get out of this hellhole and go somewhere nice.”
“I know. You can’t turn your back on the mission. Blah blah blah. There’s a whole stable full of young bucks just waiting to take over.”
“Well, that’s true…”
“And there are eight other experienced reindeer to make sure the children get their toys. And if they don’t, so what? It’s not your responsibility. You’ve put in your time.”
“You’re right. It’s been years since I liked this job.” Dasher turned to look at Mandy. “Let’s do it! Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Mandy smiled. “Yes!” she said. Then her smile faded. “What’s that on your chest?”
Dasher looked down to see he was bleeding. At that moment he knew. Turning back to the window, he felt the cold air blasting through the shattered glass. Beyond, an Elfen hit squad stood, lowering their rifles. As Dasher fell, he heard their leader say, “That should take care of our glue shortage, at least for this year.”
Moral: No one leaves Santa’s sweatshop alive.
Be sure to visit the other writers who are participating in this year’s BlogFestivus:
Shouts from the Abyss
Fix It or Deal
Lynn Schneider Books
1 Point Perspective
So I Went Undercover
Joe Owen’s Blog
Blog It or Lose It!
Voice in Me
Apprentice, never master
A Year of Daily Posts
Diary of a Sensitive Soul
The Day After
A Spoonful of Suga