Fiction, Monologues, Plays & More
If you ever were wondering about which of the reindeer was the best, I’ll give you a little tip. It’s me. Comet.
I’m the best of all the reindeer.
Some might say they guy with the nose, but that’s all hype to sell Christmas crap. I guess we all are, I suppose, magical chattel serving the great Coca-Cola-created fat man, here to deliver crap to kids, but I am here to say that kids today are savvy enough that they need a new hero for new times, and that’s me, Comet.
We all know I have the best name.
– What the hell is a Blitzen? (He’s a reindeer with an oat problem, I’ll tell you that on the sly.)
– Rudolph? Just say that a couple of times and look at yourself in the mirror. You look ridiculous saying it because you sound ridiculous saying it.
– Dancer and Prancer? Come on. You might as well say Siegfield and Roy. (But actually, don’t around here cause a couple of creatures I know got messed up with those guys and- let’s just say there’s bad blood and plenty of it).
But Comet? Comet is a freaking ice-ball from outer-space hurtling through the galaxies. That’s way cooler than any Prancer, and any other reindeer name because I am way cooler than any other reindeer.
I’m the only one with a name from outer-space because I am the only one from outer-space.
That’s right, I am the only alien reindeer.
Because it is Christmas, and I do miss my family and my home planet, I will tell you a little about where I came from:
My own planet died when the evil Tiger Lord, “Har-Snook”, the most hated of all the Tiger Lords, ever, decided to turn my home planet, Fenway, into a yarn experiment. He was doing this for his even more hated wife, “Mewlan” who was a smaller cat and was obsessed with string. My home planet was very small, by earth comparison, about the size of New Jersey. In fact, everytime I fly over NJ I get a little bit of a sad feeling. From where I fly it even looks like yarn.
But even though I am sad, and miss my home planet, I am tough. I am not only the only alien reindeer with the coolest name, but I am also the toughest reindeer.
That’s because I EAT INFERIOR REINDEER.
Now, on my home planet nobody eats anybody else. Everybody there eats basically what is the earth equivalent of bean-paste. Even the Cat Lords. Of course, we don’t call it bean-paste there, and it isn’t made from beans but I am just trying to let you know of an equivalent sort of substance.
But I started eating reindeer flesh when I came to earth because I was really hungry and they had accepted me as one of their own. Everyone was really surprised when I started eating my adopted Aunt Mazey, but reindeer on earth don’t remember things for very long and they went back to grazing their tundra food and forgot about it.
So I am also the smartest and most cunning of all the reindeer, as well as the only alien cannibal with the coolest name.
I actually suspect that got some of my smarts because I am part tiger, in fact, most creatures from Fenway are part tiger in some way, because the tigers there have sex with everything and sex in Fenway, like here, makes babies that are a mix of their parents. Anyway, I don’t know exactly but I suspect that is why I also have these awesome fangs, and am the most stripiest of the reindeer.
So add fangs and stripiest to the list of why Comet = coolest reindeer.
Now, I know you may be asking yourself, Is Comet going to eat Cupid, Donner and Blitzen for Thanksgiving? No, that would be stupid.
I do not eat any of Santa’s team, nor do I want to, because let me tell you that training to be one of his team is a real bitch and I don’t want to make us all work harder by having to get someone new in there. This is a lesson I learned the hard way, when I ate Bruce. Santa was super pissed and Bruce was replaced with Rudolph who was a real jack-hole and I almost ate on principal except for then he proved real valuable because of the whole nose thing and now he’s the most famous and- yeah whatever. You can just keep buying Rudolph crap for your kids because I am happy just knowing who I am.
I am happy to train, do my ride, hunt for other reindeer to eat, and look up at the stars and know that I came here on a flying ice-ball space ship and that there is a planet up there that is now a giant floating ball of yarn, that is my home.
Sometimes I say a prayer I adapted from a William Blake poem as both a song to myself and a prayer to my maybe bastard father the evil Tiger Lord:
“Comet Comet, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”
I know it’s pretty much exactly the same poem- except it does say “Comet Comet” instead of “Tyger Tyger.” But I think that change kind of makes it my own, because then it’s all about me, you know? And it’s not about anybody else or any other Tyger or even my Daddy, most hated of all the Tiger Lords, or that he once loved a beautiful reindeer who was my mother.
Oh, I look up, and I hate you Mewlan. And I hate yarn.
I wish a piece of that yarn would fall from the sky.
And Oh, and I would climb up, and climb my way it back home.
And then I do cry; because even if I am a tough, smart, stripey, fangy, cool-named alien, I am still a reindeer, and I can’t climb.
Laura Lee Bahr is the author of the short stories Happy Hour and The Liar (available in the anthologies DEMONS, winner of the Bram Stoker award and PSYCHOS, edited by John Skipp and published by Black Dog & Leventhal). She is the award-winning screenwriter of the feature films Jesus Freak and the little Death. Her first novel, HAUNT, received the Wonderland Book Award.