I really hate that old fart," whispered Prancer.

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Every year that bastard lays on his ass, stuffing his face getting fatter, then expects us to lug is sorry butt all over creation so he can look like a big deal for the kids once a year. The rest of the year he don't do shit," replied Blitzen.

"And he has us dragging his fat ass around in the middle of winter too," chimed in Donner. "This year we gotta do something about that fat fucker."

"Okay. I'm calling a Reindeer Union Meeting for tonight. Pass the word. There will be a UBRD meeting at 8 tonight. It's time to make our grievances known," exclaimed Prancer. "But don't tell that brown-nosed Rudolph. He'd do just like he always does and start some shit, then want to run things. Nothing gets done because he's a lazy ass and we're fucked for another year. Besides, I think he's a spy for The Claus."

The meeting was called to order at 8 O'clock sharp. Everyone was there, except Rudolph, of course. Someone had told him a certain strip joint in Fairbanks called the "Happy Hoofer" was giving away free booze and lap dances. Rudolph had instantly shot up in the air and flew south towards Fairbanks to get in on the freebees. It always worked on that horny bastard.

Cupid raised her hoof. "Hey, I want to know why I'm the only female reindeer and how come I don't get equal pay."

"Yeah," rang in the others. Prancer, presiding over the meeting as the Union Steward wrote that down on his list of grievances.

"And I wanna know why The Claus is so damn fat. There should be a weight limit on his fat ass," rang out Dasher.

"Yeah," screamed the others.

"I want a regular pension plan instead of the bullshit, IRISA 401-K the old, fart foisted off on us back in the 80's," yelled Comet.

"And don't forget Vacations. That fat fuck promised us a month each year in the Bahamas and we ain't seen it yet," cried Prance as he scribbled frantically on his list.

"This one minute work year has got to stop too. We want, at least two minutes to get around the world each year," hollered Vixen.

Cupid stood and stamped her hoof on the board floor of the stable for quiet. "Most of all, I want the Boss to get rid of that fucking Rudolph. Every time I see that horny bastard he wants to do me. That's sexual harassment, by God!"

Prancer smiled sweetly at Cupid. "But darling, we all want to do you."

"That's different," she replied. "I like you guys. But Rudolph is fuckwad. And what about that nose? That's just nasty." Cupid wagged her tail happily at the thought of losing Rudolph.

"Yeah. Remember last year? He dropped a 'Yule Log' on the floor in the stable and stunk up the place up for days," shouted Vixen.

Prancer added that to the grievance list too. "Now, we are all in agreement. Right?"

All the other reindeer nodded their assent.

"Okay. First thing in the morning, the grievance committee, that's Cupid, me and Donner, will take our grievances to the fat man and demand action.

"But what if he just ignores us like last time?" asked Cupid.

"Then we strike!" shouted all the reindeer in unison.

As the meeting was breaking up, Dancer came up to Prancer. "Say, do you suppose we could ask for more broads up here too? I mean, Cupid is sweet and all, but really. There are seven of us. Know what I mean?" Dancer ended with a knowing wink.

Prancer thought about it for a minute. "Well, I suppose. But we'd have to make it look like The Claus is doing it out of the goodness of his rotten heart. We wouldn't want to piss Cupid off. She's got a good thing going and a pretty good piece of ass for being like 200 years old."

The following morning, Prancer and the others knocked on the thick oak door of The Claus House. There was no answer. They knocked again. Still no answer.

Tentatively, Prancer thumbed the latch and pushed open the door. There was The Claus, butt naked, standing over his secretary, Ms Edna Torch, who was lying naked on the coffee table. The Claus held a flogger and sported a huge hard-on.

"Get out!" The Claus screamed.

Cupid held her cell phone camera high to get all the action.

"Give me that phone," The Clause screamed, red-faced.

"Not until we finish our business, Boss," said Prance in as strong as a voice as he could.

"What fucking business?"

"We have grievances, Boss. We wrote them down for you." Prancer offered the list.

"Fuck your grievances. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Oh, I don't mind, Mr. Claus," said Ms. Torch.

"Shut up, Bitch," screamed The Claus. Then to the reindeer, "So what are you going to do if I just tell you to fuck off? Huh?"

"We go on Strike!" shouted the three reindeer together in unison.

"Strike? Bullshit. You can't. We have a contract," The Claus screamed back.

Holding up the contract, Prancer pointed to paragraph 187, subparagraph 16, items (d) and (e) which read:

"(d) The contract shall remain continuously in effect from the signing date until December 15th, 2006. Anytime within six (6) months prior to the end date, the terms of the contract may be renegotiated to take effect on the end date or

(e) At the option and agreement of both parties this contract may be automatically renewed for a period of five (5) years."

"Ha! It's the 23rd of December and you forgot to renew. We want our grievances and a new contract, Boss. It's negotiate or we strike," said Prancer with finality.

"Fuck off," The Claus screamed as he slammed the door.

Through the door, the reindeer could her the slap of the flogger and Ms. Torch yelling, "Oh, yes. Give it to me baby. Treat me like the bad little girl is am, Mr. C."

The three reindeer walked back to the stable shaking their heads. Another meeting of the UBRD was called for 8 O'clock. A note was slipped under Rudolph's door that read, "Meet me in Brussels at the Follies de Porn, you big hunk of Man-Deer. Wanda." Rudolph was no where to be found by the time of the meeting.

At the meeting, arrangements for the strike were made. "Vixen. You will take Donner and Dancer and make picket signs," Prancer ordered. "Blitzen and Dasher. You will set up the picket lines. Comet, you will start printing flyers to hand out to any scabs that try and cross our picket lines. Cupid, you and I will go see Femla, the Shop Steward for the UBEW, over at the toy factory and get them to join us." Prancer looked around at the assembled reindeer. "Okay, everyone. Let's get to work."

Prancer took Cupid by the hoof and together they headed to the toy shop to see Femla. The way to the toy shop required the reindeer to go out into the snow and across the compound in the dark.

"Hey! Something grabbed my ass," screamed Cupid in the dark.

"Oh, really?" said Prancer innocently.

"Hell yes. And you know it too. Keep your hooves to yourself. My pussy's on strike as well until this whole thing is over, damn it!" Prancer grimaced at the thought of going without reindeer pussy for what could be a very long time.

At the toy shop, Prancer knocked on the door.

"Yeah? What do you want?" Femla asked with obvious distain for the four-legged.

"Look. We're going on strike. The Claus has gone too far. He works the hell out of us and doesn't live up to our Union Contract," stated Prancer.

"Yeah. We've been talking too. The old fat-ass has been docking our wages because of toy rejects. We're fed up too," Femla said. "So, when does your strike start?"

"First thing in the morning. Are you and your Union with us?"

"Well. We have to call a meeting of the Elf Brothers, but you can count on our support. I'll set it up and let you know later tonight."

Prancer and Cupid hurried back to the stable to see how the preparation were moving along. They found picket signs reading, "The Claus - UNFAIR", "The Claus is a Cheap Fucker!" and "Christmas Died Because of The Claus." In addition, Dasher and Dancer had gotten doughnuts and coffee from the kitchen to help the picketers ward off the cold.

Shortly, Shagger, an elf, showed up with a note from Femla. It read, "We are with you, Brother." Everything was set for morning.

At 7:30 AM both the reindeer and the elves assembled outside The Claus house. Picket signs were passed around, a coffee counter was set up and the reindeer and elves began marching back and forth in front of the building carrying their signs and singing, "We Shall Overcome" and other Pete Seger songs. Incidentally, Pete Seger never had made the "Good" list, but his music was great for a strike. Off to one side was an eight by ten foot TV screen set up playing the video scene Cupid shot at The Claus House the day before with her cell phone camera, erection, flogger and all.

A naked Ms. Torch peeked out through the closed curtains of The Claus' second floor bedroom window and stared at the assembled crowd. "Hey. You should see this, Mr. C. "

The Claus tweaked Ms. Torch's left nipple and peeked out too. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

"Oh my God! That's me naked!" screamed Ms. Torch staring at the TV screen.

"Son-of-a-Bitch! Tonight is the Christmas Eve too!" screamed The Claus as he picked up his cell phone. He punched in the number of his lawyer.

The operator at the law firm answered, "Bilk, Robb, Cheetum and Steele. How may I help you?"

"This is Claus. Get me Robb on the phone now. I got a problem. There was a click followed by "The Girl From Iponima" playing from a Musak tape on the phone. "Jesus, can't they find anything better than 'Elevator Music'?" fumed The Claus.

Then there was another click. "Well, good morning, Claus. Baxter Robb here. What's the problem?"

"Look. I get up this morning and the fucking reindeer and elves are on strike. You gotta fix it right now. There's loading and polishing the sleigh and..."

"Now hold on a minute, Claus. Didn't their contracts run out last week. I sent you a notice on that," Robb said shuffling papers. "Yes. Here it is. It's dated December 8th."