Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (Based on the Classic Christmas Song)

I should’ve known better than to venture out in a snow so thick I couldn’t see my hand two inches from my face.

We had just had a delightful dinner at my son’s house. A tradition we set aside six hours of our lives for every Christmas Eve. We eat, we socialize. After the meal and we have grown tired of each other’s company I leave to walk the two miles to my home to rid this old body of the excess calories I had just inhaled.

This night was different. A snowstorm had hit a few hours before our dinner and continued throughout. A snow so thick most people were smart enough not to leave their homes. I refused to let the decisions of others sway my own. I’m tough for my age and figured I walked there, so, I could walk back. I ventured out; fighting blistering winds and blinding snow. The funny thing is…I almost made it.

There was one more turn to make before I reached my subdivision. I was preparing to round it when I heard the bells. I was then forcefully pushed to the ground and what felt like a hundred hammers pounded against me. The whole of my body was pulsing in intense pain. I blacked out for an unknown length of time. When I awoke I felt hands around my ankles and saw as trees skirted past. I was being dragged through a wooded area. My frail senses slowly came back. I looked around, following behind me were small human-like creatures encased in green scurrying around and making squirrel like noises. Ahead, a giant red figure pulled me along, a jingle with each step.

After what seemed like a mile we stopped. One of the little creatures scurried past me and struck up a conversation with the red figure. They spoke low. I held my breath to quell the additional noise so that I may hear at least one or two words. The words I heard were spoken by the little one. It said, “Mr. Claus”. As they talked I felt my swollen self. Pain shot from each delicate touch. My fingers brushed themselves against my hairline, it was crispy and cold. I knew it was blood and I knew what that meant. I was dying and this was to be my final resting place.

The red figure walked away from the little creature and stood over me. I thought I saw a glimmer of sadness in my blurry vision. I then felt the snow being laid on top of me. A few minutes later I was buried in my icy grave. A small portion of my face remained uncovered. I watched as the red giant and the little green men stalked away. Their jingles growing more and more faint. They were gone and I was alone.

Before I slipped away completely I heard the faint sound of a whip cracking followed the guttural exclamation of, “Now Dasher!…”, then all went black before he could finish.

The next morning I was found by a dog out for a stroll. My grandson had taken out his new bike and was galavanting around town when he saw the commotion at the edge of the woods. He asked the closest officer what was going on and was told of a body found with large hoof marks embedded on it’s skin. He hung around until they brought my body out. He caught a glimpse of my face and jumped on his bike and peddled as fast as he could back to his house. He burst through the door causing one heck of a commotion; alarming my son who asked what the dickens was going on.

“I think grandma was run over by a reindeer!”


Cute Little…Oh My God!

She had seen the kitten for five blocks now. She thought it had been following her since she left the restaurant. That’s crazy though, right? she thought. Cats don’t follow, dogs follow. It wasn’t until she reached the street that housed her living quarters that it was definite; the cat was following her. She stopped, squatted, held out a hand and called for the little black kitten. It meowed, cocked its head and inched to her fingers to give them a sniff. Its cold little nose touched her finger tip so she slowly attempted a pet. The cat seemed cautious at first then allowed a stroke of its head, back, under the chin. She picked the little kitten up and carried it to her home.

Inside she set the cat down and removed a bowl from the cabinet, filled it with half milk half water and set it down to be lapped up. As the cat fed she went upstairs, changed clothes, removed a diet soda from the fridge, inserted disc two from True Blood season two, sat on the couch and filled the screen with images of Bill and Sookie.

A few minutes later the kitten came sprinting into the room with her and hopped onto the couch. It sat a cushion away and began licking its paw. She called it to her. The cat ignored and continued washing. When finished it curled up and fell asleep.

Her television speakers filled with the sounds of alt-country music snapping her awake. She stood, stretched and flipped off the end credits from the episode. The kitten was still asleep on the couch. She touched its head and it shifted one of its legs. Leaving it there she ventured upstairs to her bedroom when there was a loud knock at her front door. She stopped. Turned and contemplated what to do next. The knock came again and again. It’s just some teenagers being pricks, she thought. With that as an option it gave her courage to answer the door. As she figured there was no one there. She closed the door. The knock came again, this time sounding from somewhere in the house. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, she thought. Leaving the front door she ventured to where she left the kitten. It was no longer there. The knock came from upstairs. She climbed the stairs to find the kitten sitting in front of her bedroom door. She approached it slowly, lowered to her knees and pet the kitten atop its head. The kitten purred and meowed; rubbed against her knee.

“Cute little….”

Her head then fell to the floor and body fell backwards. The kitten ran to her neck and licked at the exposed meat. A clawed hand reached from inside the bedroom and wrapped its fingers around the head, pulling it through the doorway followed by the cracking of skull and squishing of brain being chewed and swallowed.