One-Hit Winter Wonder

It ain’t easy bein’ a star.  You’re way up on a high pedestal that, with the help of others—your fans mostly—you put yourself on.

Vertigo of the stars—fear of fallin’.

Yeah, I had it bad.

I was at the top.  The big fuckin’ kahuna!  Nobody had shit on me.  I told them all what to do, and how to do it.

The Fat Man loved me!  “Crosshairs” is what he called me, because I was always right on target.

“Crosshairs,” he’d say, “how would I get by without ya?”

I wanted to say, “You wouldn’t, dumbass, that’s why I’m runnin’ the show!” but ya don’t say shit like that to the Fat Man.

He was usually shit-faced when he’d have one of his emotional moments, talkin’ about the good ol’ days and all that.  I’d play the role, though, and listen, and nuzzle his hip or somethin’.  That’s what ya do for the meal ticket, right?  He’d pat my head and we’d be done with it, until the next time he stumbled into the stable drunk, that is.

But anyway…  I was The Shit!  Eleven globals, I’d done.  Eleven!  A record by fuckin’ God!  I was the champ.

Until he came…

I remember his mom, Snowbird, her name was.  Ha!  “Snowblind” is what I called her, ‘cause she’d lay in the hay with anybody.  Hell, I’d hit that hussy a couple a times myself over the years.  Every stable’s got one, ‘cause every stable needs one.

When she blew up, and finally popped, none of the guys knew whose baby it was.  We joked about it a lot.  My money was on Dasher.  That clown was a stable hoppin’ fool.  How do you think he got the name?  I wasn’t from pulling the Fat Man’s jalopy I can tell ya that!  He was a slacker in that department—total goldbricker.  It was from dashin’ outta the wrong stable in the nick of time, that’s how.  That boy could sure hoof it though.

Anyway…  So this joker of a kid was pushed outta Snowbird all deformed, his nose all jacked up.  Why the Fat Man didn’t put the axe to that little rodent on day one is beyond me.  The booze prob’ly—always sentimental when he’s tanked.

Determined little bastard, I’ll give him that.  Suffered through the Hell of bein’ chastised for bein’ a little freak-a-zoid with that goofy-ass schnoz of his.

I was comin’ up on my twelfth year as King when he was just comin’ of age.

It was a brutal winter.  The Fat Man was in one of his rare moods, and was drinkin’ extra heavy.  He was all stressed-out cuz the little people had gone on strike.  He had a bunch of local fish eatin’ seal clubbers in the shop makin’ the toys for him.  I thought that was pretty damn funny; them Eskimos trying to use them little tools … cracked us all up.

Yeah, it was funny alright … until it was Go Time, and a fierce northern rager started blowin’ in.  You couldn’t see your nose in front of your face.  That is, unless you were that fuckin’ freak.

I couldn’t believe it!  The Fat Man asks the mutant to run numero uno—my spot!—to lead the pack on the global.

“I need his nose, Crosshairs,” Fatty had said, “the storm’s too thick.”

I argued my point, but away they went.  I sure as shit wasn’t gonna ride shotgun to that freak.

Rudolph!  Ha!  What kind of name is that for your Number One?  A “Crosshairs,” or a “Spearhead” runs point—one of the great names—not a fuckin’ Rudolph!

Well, the global was a grand success they all said, and ol’ Rudy became the Fat Man’s new stable favorite.

“Gonna put you up front every year.” He said to the little prick.  He was drunk again, but it didn’t mean he didn’t mean it.  Sure enough, ol’ Rudy started getting’ all the press, and everything.

Not anymore though.

There’s a reason why you only hear the one story about shiny-nosed Rudolf.  It’s ‘cause on New Year’s Eve, I gutted the little bitch with my antlers.

Sucks though, ‘cause now I’m workin’ seasonal at a department store in Anchorage, and I gotta listen to that fuckin’ song thirty times a day!



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1 Comment

  1. saltinurwounds

     /  December 19, 2012

    “…wasn’t from pulling the Fat Man’s jalopy” Very funny Another twisted one.



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