A winter fable (A Tale of the Man from D.O.L.T.)

The roundhouse caught me in the pit of my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. As I struggled to catch my breath, a hard uppercut smashed into my jaw, stars exploding before my eyes. I tried desperately to get my bearings, to put up some kind of defense, but the blows rained down upon me until a stiff right hook caught me in the temple, knocking me to the floor. I looked up, trying to focus on my attacker, but all I saw was a blur of red and white. Mercifully, a black leather boot knocked me into unconsciousness, and as I sunk into darkness, I heard the chilling sound of evil laughter.

Ho-ho-ho.

This mission was supposed to be a simple one: go to the North Pole and find one Mr. Claus, then retrieve his secret list. Knowing who was naughty and who was nice was imperative to my handlers at D.O.L.T. (Department of Obtuse yet Lucid Tools) and as their top agent, the task of securing the list was given to me in confidence. After finding my way to Yellowknife, I had no choice but to continue my journey to the target on foot. I was exhausted, cold and beginning to despair when I saw a point of light in the distance, a flashing red glow that gave me energy and drew me forward. Shortly, I was on a cliff overlooking the Claus compound. As I scanned it, I observed the first of my many problems. The place was heavily guarded, surrounded by small, deadly looking elves carrying AK-47’s. Getting in was going to tax even my superior skills. Plus, I really needed to pee.

Even though the security net was stretched wide, I managed to make my way towards the front entrance of the icy fortress, leaving a trail of battered and broken elves in my wake. As I reached for the door, I heard a scuffling noise, and a musky smell assailed my senses. In front of me stood nine large and very angry reindeer, led by a giant specimen with a glowing red nose. This was the light that had led me here earlier. I watched as the beasts assumed a three-pronged stance around me. Bunching my leg muscles, I leapt towards them and in a moment I was on Dancer, on Prancer, on Donner and Vixen. Using my martial arts training, I quickly dispatched the rest of the reindeer, until all that remained was the leader, Rudolph, holding a wickedly curved dagger in his cloven hoof.

Rudolph cut the air with his blade, testing the distance between us. I leaned back on the balls of my feet, waiting for his imminent attack. I decided to try and break his concentration and taunted him with the cruelest words I could find. “So, all the other reindeer laugh and call you names, huh? They won’t let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games, will they?” As my final verbal jab passed my lips, the now enraged beast lunged at me, his blade headed for my throat.

I ducked and stretched forward, grabbing his antlers and leaping upward to land on his broad back. I applied a choke-hold on him, cutting off his air supply until he slowly fell to one knee, then collapsed in a heap. I stood over him, victorious. Then his nose began to blink, slowly at first but rapidly increasing in frequency. It came to me in a flash, and with a chill running down my spine I realized that when I had defeated the leader of the reindeer squad, I must have activated a fail-safe designed for this very occurrence: Rudolph was a nuclear bomb!

Okay, stop it, just stop it. This has gone far enough.

Oh, hi Sophie… ummm, but this is just getting really good!

No it isn’t. Look in the dictionary under “good” …this isn’t it.

But baby, I just…

Don’t “but baby” me, you arrogant hack. Whatever possessed you to even think about writing this ridiculous wad of sheep vomit? It has nothing to do with the rental industry, nothing at all!

Well honey, it sort of does… and if you let me finish it, you’ll see in the end that the evil mastermind behind the naughty and nice list is none other than Mandy Maeren herself, Queen of All Things Rental. So you see, it IS about rental. Sort of.

Listen clearly, you deluded fool. I’m only going to say this once. I spoke to your editor Chris Skalkos last year, and promised him that I would monitor everything you wrote to ensure that your so-called “Funny Page” would stay on track, and deal with the lighter side of the rental industry.

But… it’s the season of giving! Couldn’t this be my gift to all my millions of fans out there in rental land? A little adventure to brighten up their lives? Puh-leeeeeeze??

Ok, ok… just stop with the whining. This is the last time you ever write drivel like this… and you’d better end it in an appropriate way.

Thanks Sophie, I will… just watch me.

Happy Holidays to All, and To All a Good Night! -end-

*Steve Milcik writes from Montreal, Quebec, where his long-suffering wife Sophie is currently roasting his chestnuts over an open fire. When he isn’t writing adolescent spy-stories, he shills Sirius Rental Software for Orion. You can share your own rental stories with him at smilcik@orion-soft.com