Page 15 of Run, Run Rudolph
“Killjoy.”
One of the reindeer made some poorly disguised mutterings under a fake cough that sounded a lot like “The elf’s a narc.”
“Mrs. C. won’t stand for it, and you know he’ll tell her,” Rudolph pointed out, putting an immediate halt to the insults and digs.
Donner grumbled, “He’s just got to ride in the seat that suits him best.”
Dasher snickered. “How’s he going to tell her if he’s in the trunk?”
“Yeah, he’s stuck here. He can’t go tattle.”
“In my trunk?” I confirmed, getting the feeling that the elf was stuck here in more ways than one. “He’s not really stuck. There’s a glow-in-the-dark emergency pull cord that will release the trunk’s latch. It’s dangling beside him. I can’t imagine it taking him much longer to find it.”
More elf-directed insults started up again, these ones centred around Hugo’s intelligence or, rather, lack thereof.
I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but Rudolph piped up with a plaintive, “I hurt.” His big deer eyes turned to me. “Especially where you hit me with your car.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. We’re going to get you fixed up. I promise.” I stroked his flank. “Can Santa help you? Should we call him?”
“No.” The reindeer surrounding me all shook their heads.
Okay, so that pretty much confirmed that they had been out doing something bad and could get in trouble for it. Got it.
“What do I do?”
“Call a doctor?”
“Oh. Um.” Haden. Ugh, no. “Can a veterinarian even see you?”
“Not a good idea, boys,” Prancer said under his breath. “Repercussions.”
“What kind of repercussions?” I asked, imagining Estelle’s ogre in accounting with the big slobbery mouth. I shivered involuntarily.
I reminded myself that this had all been an accident, and that I was doing the best I could to help the herd. Nothing bad would happen to me. I hoped.
But I was starting to get frustrated with the lack of forthcomingness, my imagination, no doubt, acting on a much more grand scale than reality.
“What do you think I should do?” I asked. “Can you come to a consensus?”
Rudolph sighed into the straw. “Resting isn’t helping me feel better. A vet is the answer, and we all know it.”
Mentally, I ran through all the reasons that was a bad idea. There were a lot. More so, now that I knew the other reindeer felt it was a bad idea, too.
On the flip side, the consequences of not getting Rudolph proper medical treatment as Christmas Eve reared up on us was possibly worse.
The reindeer had fallen silent, and Rudolph’s word appeared to be the final say.
I sighed. “Okay. I’ll call Haden. He’s a vet.” The idea left a leaden feeling in my stomach. “You’ll make sure he can see you, so I don’t look crazy?”
“Call him,” Rudolph said wearily.
“Oh, boy,” Prancer muttered.
“Other ideas?” Rudolph snapped at him.
He received a lengthy sigh in reply. Then Prancer said, “Told you tonight was a bad idea.”
“Shut up,” Blitzen sniped. “There’s no rule we can’t go out and party. We only work one night of the year. We have the best job in the world, but not if we sit at home with our rule books stuck up our furry little?—”
