The Christmas That Almost Wasnt

"I really hate that old fart," whispered Prancer.

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Every year that bastard lays on his ass getting fatter, then expects us to lug is sorry butt all over creation so he can look like a big deal once a year. The rest of the year he don't do shit," replied Blitzen.

"And he has us dragging his fat ass around in the middle of winter too," chimed in Donner. "This year we gotta do something about that fat fucker."

"Okay. I'm calling a Reindeer Union Meeting for tonight. Pass the word. There will be a UBRD meeting at 8 tonight. It's time to make our grievances known," exclaimed Prancer. "But don't tell that brown-nosed Rudolph. He'd do just like he always does and start some shit, then want to run things. Nothing gets done because he's a lazy as and we're fucked for another year."

The meeting was called to order at 8 O'clock sharp. Everyone was there, except Rudolph, of course. Someone had told him a certain strip joint in Fairbanks called the "Happy Hoofer" was giving away free booze and lap dances. Rudolph had instantly shot up in the air and flew south towards Fairbanks to get in on the freebees. It always worked on that horny bastard.

Cupid raised her hoof. "Hey, I want to know why I'm the only female reindeer and how come I don't get equal pay."

"Yeah," rang in the others. Prancer, presiding over the meeting as the Union Steward wrote that down on his list of grievances.

"And I wanna know why The Clause is so damn fat. There should be a weight limit on his fat ass," rang out Dasher.

"Yeah," screamed the others.

"I want a regular pension plan instead of the bullshit, IRISA 401-K the old, fart foisted off on us," yelled Comet.

"And don't forget Vacations. That fat fuck promised us a month each year in the Bahamas and we ain't seen it yet," cried Prance as he scribbled frantically on his list.

"This one minute work year has got to stop too. We want, at least two minutes to get around the world each year," hollered Vixen.

Cupid stood and stamped her hoof on the board floor for quiet. "Most of all, I want the Boss to get rid of that fucking Rudolph. Every time I see that horny bastard he wants to do me. That's sexual harassment, by God!"

Prancer smiled sweetly at Cupid. "But darling, we all want to do you."

"That's different," she replied. "I like you guys. But Rudolph is fuckwad. And what about that nose? That's just nasty." Cupid wagged her tail happily at the thought of losing Rudolph.

"Yeah. Remember last year? He dropped a 'Yule Log' on the floor in the stable and stunk up the place up for days," shouted Vixen.

Prancer added that to the grievance list too. "Now, we are all in agreement. Right?"

All the other reindeer nodded their assent.

"Okay. First thing in the morning, the grievance committee, that's Cupid, me and Donner, will take our grievances to the fat man and demand action.

"But what if he just ignores us like last time," asked Cupid.

"Then we strike!" shouted all the reindeer in unison.

As the meeting was breaking up, Dancer came up to Prancer. "Say, do you suppose we could ask for more broads up here too? I mean, Cupid is sweet and all, but really. There are seven of us. Know what I mean?" Dancer ended with a knowing wink.

Prancer thought about it for a minute. "Well, I suppose. But we'd have to make it look like The Clause is doing out of the goodness of his rotten heart. We wouldn't want to piss Cupid off. She's got a good thing going and a pretty good piece of ass for being like 200 years old."

The following morning, Prancer and the others knocked on the thick oak door of The Clause House. There was no answer. They knocked again. Still no answer.

Tentatively, Prancer thumbed the latch and opened the door. There was The Clause, butt naked, standing over his secretary, Ms Edna Torch, who was lying naked on the coffee table. The Clause held a flogger and sported a huge hard-on.

"Get out!," The Clause screamed.

Cupid held her cell phone camera high to get all the action.

"Give me that phone," The Clause screamed, red-faced.

"Not until we finish our business, Boss," said Prance in as strong as a voice as he could.

"What fucking business?"

"We have grievances, Boss. We wrote them down for you." Prancer offered the list.

"Fuck your grievances. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oh, I don't mind, Mr. Clause," said Ms. Torch.

"Shut up, Bitch," screamed The Clause. Then to the reindeer, "So what are you going to do if I just tell you to fuck off? Huh?"

"We go on Strike!" shouted the three reindeer together in unison.

"Strike? Bullshit. You can't. We have a contract," The Clause screamed back.

Holding up the contract, Prancer pointed to paragraph 187, subparagraph 16, items (d) and (e) which read:

"(d) The contract shall remain continuously in effect from the signing date until December 15th, 2006. Anytime within six (6) months prior to the end date, the terms of the contract may be renegotiated to take effect on the end date or

(e) At the option and agreement of both parties this contract may be automatically renewed for a period of five (5) years."

"Ha! It's the 23rd of December and you forgot to renew. We want our grievances and a new contract, Boss. It's negotiate or we strike," said Prancer with finality.

"Fuck off," The Clause screamed as he slammed the door.

Through the door, the reindeer could her the slap of the flogger and Ms. Torch yelling, "Oh, yes. Give it to me baby. Treat me like the bad little girl is am, Mr. C."

The three reindeer walked back to the stable shaking their heads. Another meeting of the UBRD was called for 8 O'clock. A note was slipped under Rudolph's door that read, "Meet me in Brussels at the Follies de Porn, you big hunk of Man-Deer. Wanda." Rudolph was no where to be found by the time of the meeting.

At the meeting, arrangements for the strike were made. "Vixen. You will take Donner and Dancer and make picket signs," Prancer ordered. "Blitzen and Dasher. You will set up the picket lines. Comet, you will start printing flyers to hand out to any scabs that try and cross our picket lines. Cupid, you and I will go see Femla, the Shop Steward for the UBEW, over at the toy factory and get them to join us." Prancer looked around at the assembled reindeer. "Okay, everyone. Let's get to work."

Prancer took Cupid by the hoof and together they headed to the toy shop to see Femla. The way to the toy shop required the reindeer to go out into the snow and across the compound in the dark.

"Hey! Something grabbed my ass," screamed Cupid in the dark.

"Oh, really?" said Prancer innocently.

"Hell yes. And you know it too. Keep your hooves to yourself. My pussy's on strike as well until this whole thing is over, damn it!" Prancer grimaced at the thought of going without reindeer pussy for what could be a long time.

At the toy shop, Prancer knocked on the door.

"Yeah? What do you want?" Femla asked with obvious distain for the four-legged.

"Look. We're going on strike. The Clause has gone too far. He works the hell out of us and doesn't live up to our Union Contract," stated Prancer.

"Yeah. We've been talking too. The old fat-ass has been docking our wages because of toy rejects. We're fed up too," Femla said. "So, when does your strike start?"

"First thing in the morning. Is your Union with us?"

"Well. We have to call a meeting of the Elf Brothers, but you can count on our support. I'll set it up and let you know later tonight."

Prancer and Cupid hurried back to the stable to see how the preparation were moving along. They found picket signs reading, "The Clause - UNFAIR", "The Clause is a Cheap Fucker!" and "Christmas Died Because of The Clause." In addition, Dasher and Dancer had gotten doughnuts and coffee from the kitchen to help the picketers ward off the cold.

Shortly, Shagger, an elf, showed up with a note from Femla. It read, "We are with you, Brother." Everything was set for morning.

At 7:30 AM both the reindeer and the elves assembled outside The Clause house. Picket signs were passed around, a coffee table was set up and the reindeer and elves began marching back and forth in front of the building carrying their signs and singing, "We Shall Overcome" and other Pete Seger songs. Incidentally, Pete Seger never had made the "Good" list, but his music was great for a strike. Off to one side was an eight by ten foot TV screen set up playing the video scene Cupid shot at The Clause House the day before with her cell phone camera, erection, flogger and all.

A naked Ms. Torch peeked out through the closed curtains of The Clause' second floor bedroom and stared at the assembled crowd. "Hey. You should see this, Mr. C. "

The Clause tweaked Ms. Torch's left nipple and peeked out too. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

"Oh my God! That's me naked!" screamed Ms. Torch staring at the TV screen.

"Son-of-a-Bitch! Tonight is the Christmas Eve too!" screamed The Clause as he picked up his cell phone. He punched in the number of his lawyer.

The operator at the law firm answered, "Bilk, Robb, Cheetum and Steele. How may I help you?"

"This is Clause. Get me Robb on the phone now. I got a problem. There was a click followed by "The Girl From Iponima" playing from a Musak tape on the phone. "Jesus, can't they find anything better than 'Elevator Music'?" fumed The Clause.

Then there was another click. "Well, good morning, Clause. Baxter Robb here. What's the problem?"

"Look. I get up this morning and the fucking reindeer and elves are on strike. You gotta fix it right now. There's loading and polishing the sleigh and..."

"Now hold on a minute, Clause. Didn't their contracts run out last week. I sent you a notice on that," Robb said shuffling papers. "Yes. Here it is. It's dated December 8th."

"Fuck that. You get your ass up here to the Pole and get these fucker back to work," screamed The Clause.

"Well. I could, but I would be very expensive. This is Christmas Eve, you know. I do have plans and..."

"I don't give a fuck! Get your ass up here and slap these bastards in line." The Clause slammed his phone shut. Then he looked out the window at the crowd. They were drinking coffee, eating doughnuts and milling around. A couple of elves were sword fighting with their picket signs. Vixen was trying to cop a feel off one of the female elves. He could just see Cupid and Dasher around the corner of the toy factory in rapt copulation with Dasher doing her from behind. Prancer was yelling at them, something about a pussy strike or something. The Clause couldn't quite hear through the glass window.

"Oh. Look at them going at it, Mr. C.," said Ms. Torch. "Kinda makes you wanna do it too, you know."

"Fuck off, you cow!" screamed The Clause.

There was a knock at the door. Ms. Torch opened the door and stormed out holding her robe.

"Hey, Boss. That Torch bitch has nice tits. Way to go, guy," grinned Rudolph walking into the room and around behind The Clause.

"Keep your nose out of my ass. I ain't in the fucking mood, you asshole!" shrieked The Clause.

"Hey. I just came to tell you I'm completely on your side, Boss. Those fuckers out there planned this whole thing while I was visiting my sick grandmother."

"Sick grandmother, my ass. I can smell the booze on your breath. And what's with the baseball cap - 'I got LAPPED at The Follies'?"

"Yeah, well. I just dropped by there to see my aged mother. She works there, you know," Rudolph lied.

"Yeah, yeah." said The Clause, rolling his eyes.

In the distance they could hear the drone of an airplane. Off to the south a black speck seemed to grow as it sped toward them, landing just outside the Clause Compound. A short, fat man emerged from the plane dressed in a silk suit. He carryed an attaché case. The man was heckled as he crossed the picket line and knocked on The Clause door.

Rudolph jumped up. "I'll get it, Boss," he said, as he galloped down the stairs. His hooves made loud clattering on the boards.

Baxter Robb climbed the stairs followed closely by Rudolph. "Will you tell this fucking four-legged piece of shit to get his nose out of my ass?" complained Robb. Rudolph looked hurt and sat in the corner while he polished the brown off his nose.

"Okay, Clause. I'm here. Now what do you want me to do?"

"Get those fuckers back to work - NOW!" screamed The Clause.

"That might not be easy to do. They have some demands and we'll have to renegotiate their contract."

"Okay. Go do it. Give them the same contract."

"No. I'm afraid there will have to be a few slight changes. Like a month vacation in the Bahamas, a two minute work year for the reindeer and a five day work week for the elves," Robb said looking at the list of grievances. "And what's the deal? There's only one female reindeer and she gets less pay. That sounds like a labor discrimination problem. We'll have to fix that too." Robb slowly made his way back down the stairs while The Clause fumed and looked out the window at the crowd.

Robb walked outside. The Clause watched as he spoke with Prancer and Femla. The discussion seemed to become heated. The elf waved her hands. Prancer pointed to a spot just outside the Clause Compound. Cupid ambled off behind the warehouse with Comet for a tryst. Donner and Blitzen drank coffee while hitting on a big-titted elf woman. Most interestingly, Ms. Torch joined the negotiations wearing nothing but a demi-bra and thong. She jumped up and down even more than the others.

After several hours, Robb turned and re-entered the Clause House. Climbing the stairs he said, "Well. This is the best I can do. You have to cut the elves work week down to five days and 40 hours. You build a whore house for the reindeer and import some hot female reindeer to work there. Your yearly flights begin at 11:55 PM instead of 11:59. And you have to set up a regular pension benefit plan for everyone including health and dental."

"Shit. That'll cost a fortune!" screamed The Clause.

"Oh. There's more. Ms. Torch is suing you for sexual harassment. But I think I can buy her off."

"Jesus Fucking Christ!" screamed The Clause. "What's it going to take to get rid of the bitch?"

"She wants $200,000 and a ride back to civilization. I offered her a job in my office, by the way," Robb said with a grin.

"Take the bitch. And how long to get this over with. We're short of time here. It's almost noon."

"I've taken the time to write up a preliminary draft. The reindeer and elves are looking it over now."

"Get down there and get their signatures on the dotted line so they can get back to work."

"No. It doesn't work that way. They have to hold Union meetings to get approval from the general membership. That's set for 1:30. Now, I think I'll go lie down for a bit. It's been a trying day," said Robb as he eased out of the room, down the hall and into Ms. Torch's bedroom.

The Clause headed down the stairs to the kitchen for a beer. As he passed Ms. Torch's door he heard her screaming, "Oh, Baxter baby. It's so big..." Shaking his head, The Clause decided he needed something stronger than beer to get through the day.

At 1:40, Prancer and Felma knocked on the door of the Clause House. Baxter Robb opened the door looking somewhat rumpled but wearing a contented smile. Ms Torch lazed, eyes closed, on the couch stroking her wet pussy with a candy cane while pulling her left nipple.

Felma handed the signed document to Robb. He turned and went into the kitchen. The Clause sat at the kitchen table, an empty bottle of Old Sweat Sock in front of him.

"Wake up, Clause. You need to sign this," Robb told him as he gave him a shake.

"Whazzat?" moaned The Clause.

"Wake up, you fat fuck."

The Clause opened his blood shot eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's a quarter of two. Sign this," Robb told him, holding out a gold Cross pen.

The Clause took the document and scribbled his signature on the bottom. Then put his head back down on the table and fell asleep.

At 11:30 PM Rudolph came into kitchen. The Clause was passed out. A second bottle of Old Sweet Sock lay empty on the floor. "Holy Shit!" thought Rudolph. "Get up, Boss," he screamed. There was no response.

Rudolph ran to the toy factory. "Femla," he shouted. "We got big problems."

"Yeah? What's the problem? Got your nose stuck up someone's ass again, Rudolph," Femla laughed.

"No. This is serious. The Clause is totally drunk. I tried to wake him but he's just gone."

"Oh, shit. He did this back in 1976. Damn. We have to call another Union meeting."

The meeting was called. All the elves attended even though there was still much to do.

Femla looked down from the podium at the crowd. "Ok. Fucker Clause is drunk again. According to Paragraph 1289 of the Contract, we have to elect a stand-in. Do I hear any nominations?"

The elves all seemed to look at each other. Finally one hand went up in the rear.

"The chair recognizes Brother Tweezle from Bicycles," said Femla with a wrap of her gavel.

"I nominate Rudolph. That'll get him out of our hair while we party," Tweezle shouted.

A cheer went up in the crowd. "Good idea. He's an asshole," shouted one. "Yeah. Good way to get rid of him," shouted another.

"Hmm. Good idea actually. But there's a problem. He belongs to the UBRD and this is the UBEW. Different Union. I'll have to talk to Prancer. This might mean we have to invite the reindeer to our party."

A low moan grew out of the crowd.

Femla sent Tweezle over to the stable to get Prancer. She showed up having already been briefed on the problem.

"Hey. I talked to my people. They'd agree to anything to get rid of that fuckwad, Rudolph," he exclaimed with a wide grin.

"Then it's decided," Femla said with another rap of the gavel. "Meeting dismissed."

So it went. Rudolph got stuck hopping up and down a million chimneys on Christmas eve while the elves and the reindeer drank and partied late into the night. Sadly, Rudolph's night ended when the sleigh was shot down by a Stinger Missile over Northern Iraq. Fortunately, he was the only casualty. Cupid got knocked up and couldn't be sure who the father was. She was sure it wasn't Prancer because she didn't do him at all. The elves all got so drunk no one could remember who slept with whom. But they were all sure they had a good time. Prancer finally got a piece of ass. And Blitzen woke up on Christmas morning with a sore butt hole. The Clause was passed out all night and woke up with a horrid hang over that lasted until New Years.

Little Timmy Johnson of Saskatoon woke up on Christmas morning to find "Santa" had left him a rather smelly Barbie Doll. He decided he liked it and later turned gay. Little Crystal Malone of Windom, North Carolina found a GI Joe doll under her tree. She hated the doll but kept the condom "just in case". It seems most of the toys were miss delivered. Perhaps The Clause should rely on Federal Express next year.

But what about Ms. Torch? She arrived at the Christmas party at the law offices and, I heard on the grape vine, fucked all the partners at Bilk, Robb, Cheetum and Steele. The day after Christmas she filed a paternity suit against the entire bunch. She knew a girl's gotta use all her assets to get ahead.