Here we go. I’ve never done this before, take part in a “Daily Writing Challenge” but decided to try it. For one reason, I want to see if I can write something funny every day for nine days. Funny by whose standards? Well, mine I guess.
Sponsored by Blogdramedy, each story will be about one of Santa’s reindeer and must be exactly 243 words long. Many other bloggers are taking part. The list follows the story, if you would like to check out other stories and compare.
First up – Dasher.
Dasher had once lived a life of relative ease, the good-ol’-boy reindeer, until thrown into the service of S. Clause during the winter of ’42 and then his days of lazy grazing and doe-stalking were over forever. That Clause guy. What a workaholic. And all so Dasher could afford the Old Buck’s Home for his aging, demented paternal unit, Reginald D Reindeer.
Born Dashwood B Reindeer, his name had been changed to “Dasher” in the first year of his apprenticeship, by Santa. The only reason Santa did this was because Dasher sounded better in the call to order. On Dasher, on Dancer, yada, yada. And anyway, when Santa’s lips were tingling with frostiness, he mangled everyone’s name. If it was frostiness. Who knew, with that moron. Just as likely a pint stuffed in his sock hat.
And what’s it all for anyway? Train, train, train, for 364 days a year. Then the big night comes and he’s just one of many. Just one of eight, while that fat-assed male bimbo, Rudolph, gets all the attention. And that’s because of a huge, shiny nose that lights up bright red. Oh, that’s attractive. Not.
Ask anyone, just ask, where Dasher was in the lineup. Not once, never, did anyone get it right. By the time he could ditch this gig, all the hot reindeer does would be taken. Crap.
It’s no wonder he woke up on the wrong side of the hay pile every morning.