Dasher and Dancer buckled themselves into

Dasher and Dancer buckled themselves into the reins. Their telekinesis had grown strong in the past season and they were no longer content with flying. Pinpoint pressure at the

base of the skull and they could poach a naughty kid's brain from two miles away. That's why Santa insisted they check the list twice. The two most senior reindeer then

groused about how cheap coffee was when they were young. They kept this up until Santa's lash caught one of them in the lip. The reindeer cowered and begged for forgiveness but

if there are two things you should know about Santa, it's 1. he's a sadistic bastard, and 2. he loves his coffee.

I should know. My name is Dasher, and I have been carrying that fat bastard for decades. Quick with the whip, and cheap with the carrots. But my reindeer brethen suck as well!

Vixen, the only doe among us, was the strongest and smartest. Prancer had been lame ever since dancing in the Bolshoy with his russian moose boyfriend Bulwinkle. So this Christmas

Prancer decided to spike the Kringle nog and see if he couldn't rear up and nail Vixen reindeer-style. After Vixen's third nog she was flirting heavily with Dasher

and pretty soon the party became an all out reindeer orgy. They managed to form a reindeer "train" and to Prancer's dismay he had to complete the circle by joining with Dasher.

at a tangent to the rest, towards the ring of elves who had gathered to watch the North Pole equivalent of NASCAR. A great roar of little squeaky voices filled the air. Six died.