It started as a little somethin’
he slipped into his reindeer flask
back when he kept getting kicked out
of any and all reindeer games.

He had been so good-natured
about it all, nobody had noticed
how the fire slowly left his eyes
and moved down into his nose.

At first, it was nothing more
than a swig of leftover eggnog.
But with the boom in population
over these last few centuries,
which of course means a hell
of a lot more work for him,
he’d started to spike it
with the better stuff.

Now,
     after finally figuring out
     what his boss is really up to
     in the glow of every hearth
     below every snow-caked roof
     he parks the big sleigh on
     while he stands there freezing
     his short-tailed ass off,
he’s gone to straight rum.

Appleton Estates is a favorite.
But recently, Dasher turned him on
to the new Black Barrel small batch
from Mount Gay in Barbados.

Good stuff.

Blitzen wants him to get help,
but knows it will take some time.
He’d trotted down the same road
some five hundred years ago or so
and understands it’s a tricky thing.

The rest of the reindeer team
has started grumbling, though.
They’ve all noticed how the light
that guides them is beginning to dim.

And with the weather getting worse
each year from burning fossil fuels,
somebody’s gonna have to intervene,
come mid-January, or sooner,
if Santa’s not gonna do it.