Rudolph, Not the Only Red-Nosed Reindeer

Hi there, guys and dolls! Less than two weeks til Christmas – are you ready? I’m not. I thought I would be, I tried to be, but well, I got ambushed by Santa and his reindeer. And boy howdy, what fun we had. Let me tell you all about it.

I had great intentions Saturday morning. I got up bright and early, full of the Christmas spirit, a long list of gifts to get and the money to spend for it. I’m telling you, I was set. I could see it all – coming home loaded down with bags and boxes full of goodies and a Sunday ahead of me filled with egg nog and yuletide tunes on the hi-fi while I gussied everything up with pretty paper, ribbons and bows.

I got to be Vixen, the reindeer girl!

Then dang it, I get to town on Saturday morning and who do I see but Biff, all dressed up in the skimpiest little elfin outfit, complete with green short shorts and red striped tights. On his head was the most majestic felt antlers I have ever seen. He was a sight! Turns out his latest new boyfriend was playing the reindeer Dancer in the Santa Claus parade and of course flattered Biff into being Prancer (a natch fit, if you saw him mince…). Unfortunately there was a panic – a reindeer girl had not shown up! Santa was in a fit (you don’t want to see that man mad, think flying lumps of coal…), and Biff pleaded me to join in the reindeer games. How could I refuse when he looked so adorable and muscley… I was in – I got to be Vixen! Oh really, did you have any doubt who I would be, come on…

All was merry and bright on the parade route

So there we went down main street, strutting our holiday stuff. I have to admit, it was a pretty swell gig. Everybody was cheery and we just marched to our own beat. One of the best times I’ve ever had! And then the end of the route. It was a little bit of a let down, we had had so much fun, no one wanted the party to end.

So it didn’t. As it turned out Comet really was a Comet, as in Bill Haley and…. This was just a little side gig and he called some of his musician friends and we all gathered at Rudy (aka Rudolph’s) place. Blitzen lived up to his name and went on a cocktail run and the party really got to swinging. Cupid lived up to his name (well, nickname, no idea who that sweetheart of a guy was) and got me better acquainted with Dasher (or as I think of him, Dashing), and no one needed to worry about Cupid, he had his arrow poised at Donner (also known as Donna), so all was happy. Even Santa. Last I saw he was dancing on the roof, thinking of sliding down the chimney until he realized he was so fat he couldn’t even fit a leg in. He just sat up there and sang carols instead. It was festive!

And just like that, Sunday morning.

The next thing I knew it was Sunday morning. Oh well, there’s always next weekend, right?

Thanks for reading and stay tuned for more posts. And don’t forget to give my Poppy Cove Mysteries a try if you haven’t already. 

Toodles, Barbara Jean

About Barbara Jean Coast

Barbara Jean Coast is the pen name of authors Andrea Taylor and Heather Shkuratoff. She is currently hard at work telling the cozy tales of the fictional town of Santa Lucia, loosely based on Santa Barbara in the late 50's, early 60's, known as The Poppy Cove Mysteries.
This entry was posted in 1950's, 1950s fun, 1950s glamour, Alter Ego, Americana, blogaday, Characters, Christmas, christmas parties, cocktail culture, creative writing, Creativity, daily blog, Dating, diary, Drinks, entertainment, Fiction, Fictional Characters, flash fiction, flirting, Happy Hour, Historical, historical fiction, Holiday Parties, Holidays, house party, Humor, long read, Nostalgia, Parades, Parties, postaday, Retro, Romance, Shopping, Socializing, suburbia, Uncategorized, Vintage, weekend and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.