Otus the Head Cat

Rudolph's fate hard to digest, unless you're a bear

Members of the Rudolph Freethinkers Society of Brookings, S.D., hold their annual “Free Rudolph” 10K to educate the public about the true story of the “reindeer” and counter the cult of ungulate worship that has sprung up around him.Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat’s award-winning column of humorous fabrication appears every Saturday.
Members of the Rudolph Freethinkers Society of Brookings, S.D., hold their annual “Free Rudolph” 10K to educate the public about the true story of the “reindeer” and counter the cult of ungulate worship that has sprung up around him.Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat’s award-winning column of humorous fabrication appears every Saturday.

Dear Otus,

Thank you for so many laughs over the years, especially the hysterical Rudolph story that you repeat every December. Kudos to excellent imagination and the writing ability to capture it perfectly!

May I share it with my Fun With Geography Fan Club at our December party in Hot Springs?

-- Sharon Fox,

Texarkana

Thanks for the kind words, Sharon. Here for your club is the column I've run every Christmas since 1980. Feel free to share it with all your friends.

-- Otus

It's a tragic tale, a saga of fleeting fame and the horrific consequences of unbridled, narcissistic hubris. It is the cruel, cruel lesson of Rudolph the red-nosed caribou.

Caribou? Yes, Rudolph was, in fact, a caribou. Having been born on the southern fringes of Baffin Island, he came from the wrong side of the prime meridian to be technically classified a reindeer.

It was this accident of birth that tormented Rudolph all his days. You see, rather than embracing life as he was, Rudolph tried to "pass."

Abandoned by his mother at a tender age, Rudolph wandered aimlessly ever northward until he stumbled upon Santa's workshop, the sprawling 868-acre compound that surrounds the North Pole.

At first Rudolph was overjoyed to be in the company of such a seemingly cheerful and industrious lot. Hundreds of carefree elves, along with Santa and Mrs. Claus, labored in an idyllic setting of perpetual merriment and Yuletide purpose.

Or so it seemed. Ever since the failure of the Great Gnome Insurrection of 1428, the elves secretly cursed their sweatshop life, their jolly taskmaster and his termagant shrew of a wife.

Sometimes, when he wasn't looking, they spat in Santa's nog.

And frolicking nearby were the eight reindeer that annually pulled Santa's sleigh on Christmas Eve. Rudolph thought he had stumbled upon paradise.

The reindeer, it turns out, had been vying among themselves for eons to curry Santa's favor. Their sycophantic service of only one night a year left them with precious little job satisfaction and low self-esteem.

When Rudolph arrived and tried to pass himself off as a reindeer, they turned on him like a pack of jackals or hyenas. Probably jackals. Or maybe dingoes. Rabid dingoes.

Dasher, the alpha male was the first to ostracize the diminutive newcomer. Dancer, Dasher's sniveling, servile lackey, hectored Rudolph with taunts and jibes.

Most egregious was the incessant torment that came from Prancer, Vixen, Comet and Cupid. The brooding malcontents would bully Rudolph ceaselessly because of his red nose.

Donder, the dim-witted one, would prance about the circle grunting Laplandish non sequiturs, and Blitzen, the most Nordic and racially xenophobic of the lot, spent his days sulking and thinking dark, dark thoughts.

The essentials of the tragic tale are recorded in the well-known Christmas song made famous by Orvon Grover Autry in 1949:

Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose, and if you ever saw it, you would even say it glowed.

"Glowed" would be a euphemism. At its worst, REN (rhinitis epistaxis nostrildamus) can be painfully blinding to the afflicted.

All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games.

The lack of social intercourse only served to exacerbate Rudolph's REN condition until it came to the attention of Santa Claus.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say, "Rudolph, with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?"

Rudolph was overjoyed. It went to his head. He had the temerity to gloat in front of the others. It was a tragic flaw and set him up for a tragic fall.

Then all the reindeer loved him, and they shouted out with glee, "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, you'll go down in history."

The reindeer were disingenuous. It was all a ruse -- a superficial show for Santa.

The next year's Christmas Eve dawned clear and bright and Rudolph was not needed. In fact, the addition of a ninth reindeer had spoiled the sleigh's aerodynamics and made Santa late to parts of South America.

Santa had been in a foul mood all year and blamed Rudolph.

A pariah once more, Rudolph snapped and wandered off to an ice floe where, legend has it, he was eaten by polar bears. All except his nose, which even the usually thorough omnivores found disgusting.

Until next time, Kalaka admonishes you to learn from Rudolph's mistakes and accept yourself for who you are.

Disclaimer

Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat's award-winning column of

Z humorous fabrication X

appears every Saturday. Email:

[email protected]


Disclaimer: Fayetteville-born Otus the Head Cat's award-winning column of 👉 humorous fabrication 👈 appears every Saturday.

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