The distinguished members of this Library might not know but due to global warming reindeer are becoming extinct. Even the legendary herd's of Santa Claus are threatened. Thus, a few years ago, a very concerned elderly man, so unlike his jolly self, sought the advice of his brother, Krampus, who, due to forced retirement, had plenty of time on his hands for reflection. The brothers, neither of whom knew who was the eldest or youngest, sat for sometime before a needless fire as they contemplated a rapidly changing world. Finally, Krampus said in his gravely voice; "You know Nick, I've been thinking over what your Missus said sometime ago. She pointed out that, since I'm not encouraged to visit the angelic naughty tots anymore, I should expand my scope toward those humans who crave external Discipline but, for whatever reason, fail to receive it. As your Missus has long since claimed dominion over those humans who behave but still crave such attention, naughty goody two-shoes I believe she called them, I've been considering those really damaged souls who're sinking into despair and darkness because their Needs aren't met. The difficulty is that there are simply too many of those poor souls but perhaps if we worked together we could rectify that problem while also solving your transportation problem." "You old goat, you've forgotten I give presents not Discipline. That's your job. Well, yours and Mrs. Clause." "Nick, you're greatest gift is hope that, for some, lights their entire year. Besides, if you accept my idea, you'll also finally resolve your delima over Rudolf's thinning line. Besides, if you, your Missus and I have an annual split over the chosen, then we'll each have a fine team to pull our sleighs." "What exactly is this idea?" "Simple, there are certain humans who like to pretend their ponies or humanoid animals. We'll take that concept and expand upon it. Each year, we three will each select thirteen: male, female or even the tran, and turn them for one night into humanoid reindeer, with their plump posteriors left unaltered and bared for our respective lashes. The worst, the Needest that is, will lead the team as their backsides will be attended to most severely before flight so our way will be lit regardless how stormy the night might be. Once our annual duties are complete, will turn them completely human again and tuck them back into their beds. Of course, should it still be Necessary, we can provide personal attention with Our respective implements before using Sandman's special dust. I've already inquired and Sandy has assured me he can give us grains that'll let our chosen retain their posterior pain without physical evidence so our anomity can be preserved while the memory, hidden from conscious thought, warms their spirits." "And just perhaps, goad the most awkward and socially inept into finding that special someone who'll take the task into their mortal hands." "Exactly!" "Well, lets give it a whirl. If it works, we'll have a new tradition and you'll have purpose again." "My thoughts exactly." So, faithful readers, if you've not had much success in obtaining a red moon and it's darkening your soul but awaken on Christmas morn with phantom posterior pain, perhaps during Christmas Eve's magical hours, you've provided an essential service while your tail receives it's just due. Merry Christmas to All and to All a good Night. | 
