Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Rick the Reindeer
the unnecessary 2006 Holiday Poem

last year the Admiral called to compliment me upon my Christmas poem. "Next year," he said, "You will need to write one about Rick the Reindeer. Ho ho ho."

Well, Admiral, The League has a long memory.

editor's note: to better understand this Holiday poem (one in a series), please first read The Tale of Santor, and then Chad the Elf. Or don't. I don't care.

So, without further ado:

Rick the Reindeer
by Charles Dickens

Now gather 'round, Leaguers. It's the month of December!
And that means it's time for my poem, you'll remember.
In years past I've worked hard to make the poems hard to ignore,
with the merry tales of of Elf Chad and good 'ol Santor.

I know you've been eagerly awaiting another tale of the season
And the League of Melbotis is here for your yuletide poem pleasin'.
So hang on to your hats, keep on your shorts and be of good cheer
This year I relate the tale of your favorite reindeer.

Our man Rick was VP of Finance of a large corporation
Counting beans for the bank and to account for inflation.
Each day he counted beans, accounting for each as it passed,
"I'll count each bean twice," he said "But I must count them up fast."

"It's almost Christmas," cried Rick as he straightened his tie.
"They've all taken vacation, I'm the lone bean-counting guy!"
He counted the beans fast, for he had a house full of guests.
And was half-way done when entered Uncle Sam's IRS.

Rick panicked a moment as he thought back to the night before last,
When he had spoken to his wife about some Christmasses past.
"The family's all here," she had said, "and it'd be swell
"If you could take a day off and take on my Chrismassy hell."

He'd thought of his employees, scattered to north, south and west,
And how he'd signed for their vacation and wished them his best.
Still, beans needed counting, and he'd thought it terrifically bright
to spend a few days in the office to account for each bean in sight.

"There's no one but me," he sighed, "They've all taken to wing
"But the beans all need counting, the year-end report is the thing."
"You'd best get home early," she said when he'd detailed his fix.
"Or you'll spend Christmas alone in a grim Motel 6."

The IRS agents were ladies, one agent plain, the other quite foxy.
"We're here to check your books for the Feds. Agents Sarbane and Oxley."
Rick pulled up a spreadsheet, his books organized and in fantastic order
But to his surprise the tally made no sense, thus his heart beat in horror.

"I can't explain it, for we always count more than once.
"I've been doing this for years, and I can say I'm no dunce!"
What Rick didn't know would surely rattle his brain.
His boss had made off with loot, and then fled, with his ill-gotten gains.

"We're gonna be late," said the agent," so call the wife to hold dinner,
"There's a ton of cash missing from here, and we'll find the sinner."
Rick thought of his family awaiting him, and his heart took a sharp dive.
And thought of Christmas at Motel 6, if he weren't home by five.

"Please excuse me," said Rick, "I've got somewhere awful important to be."
He ran out the room lightning fast as he started to flee.
He had a stray thought on the nature of his journey.
"I must seem quite guilty, I should have called an attorney."

He thought it best to call home and, in detail, explain
How this Christmas Eve he might be returning quite late again.
"Hon, I won't lie, you might want to call me a lawyer
"The feds think I've embezzled from my now-former employer."

"Don't bother coming back to the house if you'll get sent to the can,
"You're a man on the run," said his wife "You're now on the lam.
"Lay low while these G-Men look here and yon
"They'll get bored of their search, and they just might move on."

To leave early, he'd not eaten and was reaching starvation
When he saw an ad in a window, with a fix to his situation
"We're in search of a reindeer, to pull Santor's Windstar-cum-sleigh
"It's just for one night, and in cold cash we'll pay."

He called the number and was met with a strange voice on the line
"You're the first to call us for the ad," said the voice, "We think you'll be fine.
"Come down to the corner of Main and Fifth where a Windstar will idle
"You'll do your own work, but we've got your antlers and bridle."

Rick thought it sounded odd, but he needed money to make it this night
And so at the corner he saw the mini-van in question, a wonderful sight.
Painted like a sleigh, in fading red and green hues it did twinkle
And by the side of the Windstar a man in tights let fly with a tinkle.

"I'm Chad," said the elf, "I'm Santor's most specialist helperest friend
"And tonight we deliver the crap no one wants to boys, girls and men."
"Fix him with antlers," a drunken-sot's voice called from the van.
"Staple them, if we must. He must be our reindeer, and not just a man!"

Saint Nick was quite different, with none of Santa's Christmassy cheer.
The elf was quite stinky, and the sleigh smelled of old beer.
The cargo zone was filled with presents as high as could be,
Upon inspection, they were things like Garfield DVD's.

"It's a g-d ol' Christmas," spat the drunk, "and we try to ruin it.
"Christmas just blows, and it stinks of old prune @#$%.
"If we can make gift giving stupid, and sort of a drag
"Then we make each child miserable, that's our Holiday bag."

"I'll need my money up front," asked Rick, "It seems I'm all out."
"His nose!" cried old Santor. "It's too human for a reindeery snout!
"Attach him a lightbulb! Red as the baboon's behind!
"Then give it some juice to make all hundred watts shine!"

Rick chewed on a candy cane as they glued twigs to his noggin'
And wondered what he was supposed to do in front of the 2-ton toboggan
"Just cling to the hood," was Santor's slurred-sloppy reply.
"Hang on at the corners, lest you may learn how to fly."

"This deal sounds quite bad," Rick said, as one who might know
As the lightbulb on the end of his nose gleamed the merriest of glows.
Then the ignition turned over and Rick grabbed hold of the car,
And the sleigh roared to life (our Santor's Windstar).

Santor cried out "It's got a v-12, not factory installed
"So you're going to want to watch it, lest you tumble and fall.
"We'll be stopping and starting about each fifty feet
"And I should caution 'bout the hail, rain and the sleet"

Rick pondered his bad luck as Santor pressed down hard on the gas
And felt the cold night's air as it blew 'round his ass.
"Hold on, Rick Reindeer! It seems we've lost the headlight!
"Rick, I'm asking, Won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Then off through the streets in bad weather they flew in the sleigh
Where Rick remains in Santor's questionable employ to this day
You see, Rick wasn't a bean counter deep down inside
And he couldn't swing Christmas no matter how hard he tried.

So a life on the hood, standing, blinking-nose to the wind
Had seemed like the optimal lifestyle (if you had asked him).
Sure, the elf was disgustingly grimy and sore needed a bath
And, sure, Rick was creeped out by Santor's weird laugh

But no beans would need counting, just crap presents annually
Delivered by Santor and his elf (who smelled like old pee).
So with antlers attached to his head and a bulb on his face
Rick the Reindeer comes each Christmas to invade your own space

He's leading the Windstar as Santor jaunts on his annual 'rounds
Tied on with some bungees, to the hood Rick the Reindeer is found.
He may look like an accountant whose been shot by bad hunters
All bound as he is just across the front bumper.

But he's loving Christmas in a way you can't imagine this year
As you deal once more with the family, and with loathing and fear
So give it up for Rick Reindeer as I wrap up this mess
And don't run away, even on Christmas, from our own IRS


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