Red-Nosed Drunk
A hoof banged on the bar. “Hit me again, Joe.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night, pal?” the bartender replied coolly. “I can smell the nut meg on your breath from here.”
“Hey, my nose always is always red,” Rudolph snorted back. “I can handle my egg nog.”
“Something bothering you, Rudy?”
The reindeer lowered his dewy eyes to the bar. “Sorry, Joe. It’s the holiday, you know? Sometimes, it just gets me down. All this rampant commercialism, the runaway materialism. I mean, where’s it going to end?"
“Isn’t your attitude a little hypocritical, Rudolph? You know, given where you came from.”
“What are you talking about?” the reindeer snorted. His nose momentarily flared bright red in the smoky dimness of the bar, as if inflamed by his annoyance.
The bartender considered his next words carefully. “You know about Montgomery Wards, right? The department store? Some copywriter there made you up for a giveaway booklet back in ‘39.”
“What is this? Some kind of reindeer game you’re playing?”
“Rudy, come on, I’m giving it to you straight. Think about it. You weren’t part of the original eight. Didn’t you ever wonder why you’re weren’t mentioned in “The Night Before Christmas?”
The reindeer chewed on the thought carefully, like bitter cud. “So what are you saying? That I’m part of the problem?”
“Hey, lighten up. You may have begun as marketing gimmick, but you’re part of Christmas folklore now. You’re as much a part of the holidays as ol’ Kris Kringle himself.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Rudolph nodded, the bells on his harness jingling brightly. “That reminds me, the old man’s probably getting the sleigh hitched up right now. Listen, thanks.”
He headed out the door, twisting his head slightly so his antlers would pass.
“Just the same,” he mused to no one in particular, “I wonder if General Electric would be interested in the naming rights to my nose.”
December 2003
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night, pal?” the bartender replied coolly. “I can smell the nut meg on your breath from here.”
“Hey, my nose always is always red,” Rudolph snorted back. “I can handle my egg nog.”
“Something bothering you, Rudy?”
The reindeer lowered his dewy eyes to the bar. “Sorry, Joe. It’s the holiday, you know? Sometimes, it just gets me down. All this rampant commercialism, the runaway materialism. I mean, where’s it going to end?"
“Isn’t your attitude a little hypocritical, Rudolph? You know, given where you came from.”
“What are you talking about?” the reindeer snorted. His nose momentarily flared bright red in the smoky dimness of the bar, as if inflamed by his annoyance.
The bartender considered his next words carefully. “You know about Montgomery Wards, right? The department store? Some copywriter there made you up for a giveaway booklet back in ‘39.”
“What is this? Some kind of reindeer game you’re playing?”
“Rudy, come on, I’m giving it to you straight. Think about it. You weren’t part of the original eight. Didn’t you ever wonder why you’re weren’t mentioned in “The Night Before Christmas?”
The reindeer chewed on the thought carefully, like bitter cud. “So what are you saying? That I’m part of the problem?”
“Hey, lighten up. You may have begun as marketing gimmick, but you’re part of Christmas folklore now. You’re as much a part of the holidays as ol’ Kris Kringle himself.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Rudolph nodded, the bells on his harness jingling brightly. “That reminds me, the old man’s probably getting the sleigh hitched up right now. Listen, thanks.”
He headed out the door, twisting his head slightly so his antlers would pass.
“Just the same,” he mused to no one in particular, “I wonder if General Electric would be interested in the naming rights to my nose.”
December 2003
This was one of the holiday messages I sent out to clients during my freelancing years – and one of the essays you'll find in my 2021 compilation, "Thinking Too Hard and Rethinking Too Much: Stories and Essays from a Career in Advertising."
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