By Judy Evans

“I’ll have no conflict in my household,” thundered Santa Claus.  “Christmas is not about conflict.  It’s about goodwill towards all men.”

“Excuse me, Santa,” said Dancer.  “This isn’t about ‘men’.  It’s about reindeer.  We’re the ones in conflict and all the good will in the world isn’t going to persuade me to travel behind Comet.”

Thanks to a delicate stomach and the over-consumption of curry pies at the Christmas party, the reindeers were revolting.  No, that’s not quite right.  Comet was revolting and all the rest were in revolt.  Yes, that’s how it was on that Christmas Eve many years ago.

Santa’s reindeer had held their Christmas bash on Christmas Eve. They were always too tired to celebrate after Christmas.  The elves decorated the barn and Mother Claus made all sorts of delicacies. Unfortunately she had over-done the curry in the curry puffs.  Comet, who had a penchant for curry puffs but a rather delicate stomach, had thrown caution to the winds and over-indulged.

Now poor Comet’s tail was on fire and his flatulence had seen him ostracised.  He had been allocated a toilet stall of his own for the duration but the real problem was still to be addressed.

Who would be harnessed behind Comet in the sleigh?

A hasty meeting was called with Santa.

“I’m not being harnessed behind Comet,” said Vixen, her nose in the air.  “He can barely control his actions now, and with the stress of pulling the sleigh, I refuse to be in the firing line.”

“Speaking of which, excuse me, I’ll be right back,” and off dashed Comet.

Cupid didn’t care where he was harnessed.  He was always paired with Comet so he wasn’t going to be in any danger.  He sidled up to Vixen.

“You’re quite right, my deer,” he said.  “My, you’re some foxy lady,” he murmured, breathing Mountain Dew breath all over her.  Vixen fluttered doe-like lashes at him.  He was really quite handsome.  In her bemused state, his aquiline nose looked noble and he certainly had the longest antlers, even longer than Rudolph’s.

Dancer stamped a foot at Vixen.  “You and Prancer always go in the rear.  We need heavy reindeer to sit in the breeching and act as the brakes.  And you and Prancer are the heaviest.  Dasher and I are much too dainty to be wheelers.”

“Yes, dash it, we are,” agreed Dasher, hiding behind his big brother.

Vixen lowered her head pointedly and shook her antlers at Dancer. “I am not weighty,” she said.  “You’re just as big as me.  But you’ve got a bigger mouth.  And mostly you only open it to change feet.”

She smirked then side-stepped as Dancer charged at her.  With his head down, Dancer couldn’t see where he was going and, as Vixen stepped aside, he cannoned into Cupid who stumbled against Dasher. Mayhem broke out.  Santa roared.  Rudolph leapt into the middle of the group and spun round with his horns down.  Stepping back, they glared at each other, panting and breathing steam in the warm barn.

“By thunder, heh heh, pardon the pun,” said Donner.  “I’ve got it.  It’s just hit me like a bolt of Blitzen.  Cupid and Comet can be the wheelers – or should that be runners? – whatever, Cupid and Comet can go at the rear.  Then if Comet can’t contain himself, so to speak, no-one is behind him.”

“Do you mind?” bellowed Santa, getting redder in the face. “You’re not the only characters in this farce.  Who do you think comes behind the lot of you?  It’s bad enough being downwind when you’re all…”  He stopped himself.  He didn’t want a full-scale strike and it was Christmas Eve.

“What was that you said about goodwill, Santa?”  simpered Vixen.

Prancer tiptoed forward, coughed and whispered, “I think I’ve got a solution.”

“Speak up for Heaven’s sake,” said Donner.

“This is the best I can do,” croaked Prancer.  “I think I sang too many carols.  I seem to have lost my voice.”

“Thank God for that,” said Vixen.  Santa glared at her.  Vixen tossed her head.

“What if the dashboard of the sleigh was extended up higher so that Santa’s shielded from any, er, ‘fallout’?” asked Prancer.

Santa scratched his whiskers.  “It would improve the view,” he mused.  “Good idea, Prancer.  I’ll get the elves on to it immediately.  From now on, Santa’s sleigh will have a high front.”

“Excuse me,” said Comet, swishing his tail and heading for the toilet.  “Gotta go.”