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I was in Council Fucking Bluffs Iowa of all places, and it hadn't been a good night, even for Iowa. The bitches were in rare form. (You do know all my reindeer are female, don't you? Just think what that means. Comet was constantly showing off her big teats while Cupid was screwing all the husband-deer. And you can't imagine what it's like when they're all PMSing in late December. What a nightmare.) The bitch-deer were getting along worse than they had for years, and Rudolph was home with some kind of social disease he wouldn't talk about but I think was why no one was having anything to do with Vixen.

Anyway, the deer-cunts dumped me (sorry about that ladies, but the old elf gets a little less jolly when he's dropped on his head) on some kind of slate roof and told me to play with myself while they worked things out and came back for me. At that point I didn't care if they ever came again. Cumming was too good for them.

It was colder than a witch's tit out there on the roof. ("How cold is that?" you might ask. Well, the last time I was with Glinda my mouth got stuck to her boob and it took three of Santa's helpers rubbing her down with Ben-Gay to warm her up enough for me to get loose - and then I had to explain to Mrs. Claus why I didn't have any skin on my tongue. I don't think she completely believed that pump handle story either.) The deer-chicks (Is that PC enough for you?) did leave me my bag and I decided I might as well slip down the old chimney to get warm and see if there was anything besides cookies and milk waiting for me. Just ...

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