Holidays on Holiday Chapter One: Rudolph in the Hood - Part One

This is the beginning of chapter one in my holiday story, which I hope to have done by Christmas, which I know is an illogical impossibility, but I'll try.

“So then I said to Rudolph, I said, ‘Rudolph, with your nose so bright, you look high,’” said Santa, drunk, laughing hysterically at his own joke. There were at least fourteen and one half empty glasses on his table now.

He heard nobody laughing besides himself. “What, you can’t take Christmas jokes, miss?” he asked, elbowing who he thought was the waitress. Saint Nick was actually just nudging thin air.

“Whatever. I wonder where Rudolph is, anyway. He should’ve been here eleventy six hours ago.”

Meanwhile, in front of the casino, on the streets of Vegas…

“Yo, my homie G’s. Check this out. I’d like to announce the new member our crew,” stated your typical gangster: dark skin, red bandana over his head, with a white T-shirt, and crimson, baggy pants.

The members of his gang cheered and hollered.

“Give a holla to Rudolph!” he shouted. Rudolph attempted to do a cool trot to make his grand appearance to the crew.

The members of the gang were speechless, their mouths wide. They were shocked as they laid eyes on a reindeer, looking as cheerful as can be with a bright red nose.

One member of the crew, a short Latino, looked at the gang leader. “Yo LaShawn, come here.” LaShawn followed.

“What up, Miguel?” wondered the leader.

Miguel looked at LaShawn as if he suffered from mental retardation. “Yo, is this some kind of joke?”

“What are you talkin’ about, man?”

“Don’t you know?”

LaShawn shook his head. “I ain’t knowin’ a thing you sayin’ unless you tell me.”

“Rudolph, he’s from Christmas, right? I heard about him when I was robbing a holiday store a couple years back. But my point is, see Rudolph is Christmas, right? And we gangstas, right? Well that reindeer thing could really lower our reputation, you know?”

The gang leader sighed. “Rudolph, come here!”

The cheerful reindeer skipped hesitantly, and then stopped, noticing that the gang members were giving him a malevolent stare-down. He, dripping beads of sweat, went back to his cool trot.

“Yeah, boss,” he said to LaShawn.

The gang leader smiled. “Hey, you don’t gotta me boss. This ain’t the Italian Mob. Call me LaShawn, a’ight?”

“Yes, boss, I mean LaShawn.”

“I want you to show Miguel here your ‘yo momma’ skills.”

As if the two words were words from God himself, the crew simultaneously made a circle in around Miguel, LaShawn, and Rudolph.

Miguel smiled. Yeah right. Santa’s little helper ain’t gonna scratch me.

Oh, no. Why did Santa have to pick Vegas to give gifts first? thought Rudolph. He knew he would gamble and get drunk. And now I’m in one of the worst situations of my life. Even worse than when Blitzen wouldn’t let me play Monopoly with him.

Flashback…

“Yes,” said Blitzen, “in your face, Donder. I own the East Railroad Station and you landed on it. That means you owe me five million dollars. Will that be cash or check?”

“Five million dollars?” asked Donder. “Let me see that.” He looked at the Railroad card. “Blitzen, you’re cheating. I only owe you fifty dollars.”

Rudolph walked toward the two reindeer. “Can I play?”

“No, you have a red glowing nose,” explained Blitzen.