My GPA got run over by a reindeer

As I enter into this, my final month as a college student, the bleak breath of reality chills my spine. The ongoing threats of terrorism and war don’t help. I am left dreaming of a Utopian paradise in which I’d be allowed to lollygag and gambol for the rest of my life.

During one of my reflection-heavy, meaning-light think sessions, I realized that Rudolph, of “red-nosed reindeer” fame, has had the greatest life in the history of human vocational existence.

Now bear with me, those of you (two or three) still reading.

Think about it: one Christmas a few years back, Rudolph galloped around the North Pole, thinking how crappy of a hand he’d been dealt because of his glowing, red shnoz. Dancer and Prancer and the other reindeer, the hotshots who Santa picked to guide his sleigh, would always “laugh and call him names.” As if that weren’t enough, they wouldn’t let the poor fella play any reindeer games.

And if there’s one thing college has taught me, it’s that reindeer games make life worth living.

In fact, had old Rudolph been living in this day and age, a pet psychiatrist would probably prescribe him horse Zoloft, because the whole thing must have depressed him greatly. And given the odd world in which he lived, one that featured toy-making elves and animals named Vixen, life must have sucked for poor Rudolph.

However, he bucked up, stayed tough and dealt with all the R.S. in his life.

Then came the big day, as it did every year. Rudolph probably awoke and wished that maybe, just maybe, Santa might pick him to take the flight. Then he glanced in his mirror and saw his nose. And “if you ever saw it / You would even say it glows.” He then huffed and went about his day.

That afternoon, however, an ominous fog settled over the North Pole, and all in Santa Land worried about the difficulties of a fog-filled lift-off. Santa had been packing the pounds for a long time then, before Tim Allen relieved him of his duties, and who knew what sort of turbulence awaited the flight.

So Rudolph went about his daily business, which I imagine featured such activities as eating oats, not being allowed to play in the games and having the other deer unleash a string of coarse and cutting insults.

Meanwhile, Santa was more worried than a fudge pop at fat camp, so he decided to take a walk and gather his thoughts and probably have a quick smoke, solely to relieve some of the tension.

Rudolph, at this point, had just left the playground and was headed out to the reindeer bar to drown his sorrows in eggnog.

Then, lo and behold, their paths collided. Santa, seeing a shimmering red glow up the way, snubbed out his smoke, fearing that it was Mrs. Claus with a torch about to make him go back on the patch. Then, as Rudolph broke through the fog, Santa saw him, noticed how his nose light shone through the thickening fog, and said, “Rudolph with your nose so bright, / Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

Of course, Rudolph agreed. Just like that, “all of the reindeer loved him / As they shouted out with glee, / Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, / You’ll go down in history!”

And just like that, Rudolph was set for life. Think about it: he makes the trip that night, and for the rest of his days, he gets residual checks from Santa Inc. Naturally, with the ever-developing technology, Santa procured a better sleigh, one with lights and GPS, so he didn’t need Rudolph anymore. But it didn’t matter.

He’s probably like an old war hero or a great athlete of yesteryear. All the reindeer that gave him crap before probably kiss his ass now in hopes of grabbing some of the young reindeer groupies who follow him wherever he goes.

Come on. Who wouldn’t want to be Rudolph? (Or maybe it’s high time I graduate and stop thinking about fictitious animals.)