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The Invitation

by

Vixyy Fox

Snofo pushed another thumbtack into the soft sided cubicle wall and admired the formation it created with the dozens of other thumbtacks already present. The myriad of brightly colored plastic buttons highlighted the piece of paper pinioned under them in the same fashion a butterfly collector will frame his most favorite 'dead' bugs.

"What's that?" asked a not so quiet voice behind him.

He didn't turn, knowing it was Alice Fernwhipple the office busy body.

"It's an invitation to go fur," he replied flatly, taking the time to stick another thumbtack into the paper.

"Gopher?" she asked. "What... they want you to be the boss' assistant?'

Snofo coughed as he tried to swallow his response before it could get beyond his lips; something about Alice already camping out under the boss' desk as his personal gopher.

"To go fur fur away, maybe," he managed, "Like I wish I could in reality. This job sucks." He finally turned to look at the woman, cocking his head as if listening to something. "I think I just heard Fred calling for you."

Fred was the boss.

Alice quickly excused herself and almost ran in the direction of the man's office. Snofo smiled his quirky smile having successfully gotten rid of her once again. The ruse never failed to work.

Turning back to the invitation, he leaned forward and pulled the paper off of the wall scattering the tacks all over his desk with abandon. Once again he examined it for any clues. It had magically appeared on his computer keyboard earlier while he was away getting a cup of coffee. On the cover was printed, in very nice old fashioned cursive handwriting, 'To Mr. Snowden Forrest'.

He frowned. Normally he only ever saw his full name on the paychecks they sent to him through the mail. He preferred to keep it hidden because people always tried to refer to him as 'Snowy' Forrest, which insulted his sense of masculinity. Whenever he heard it, he was reminded of a female country western singer with big hooters. For that reason, he'd shortened 'Snowden' to 'Snofo', Sno from his first name, and Fo from his last. He then used body language to reflect an attitude. If the teenagers could get away with it, why couldn't he?

Opening the note for the umpteenth time, he read; 'You're invited to go fur.'

There was nothing fur-ther (no pun intended by the writer) written. There were no instructions, times, dates... no 'who', 'what', 'where', or 'when'. This was beginning to really bother him.

"Oh well," he murmured, tossing the paper onto his desk, "Quitting time."

Gathering his things as he always did exactly at five PM, he put on his winter coat and headed for the door.

---

By the time Snofo got to his car he was cold and miserable. For security reasons, though God knew that all the company big shots (and Alice Fernwhipple) got to park close to the building. All of the peons, of which there were a multitude, had to walk a good three blocks to the border of the woods in order to fetch their rides. Tonight, because of the short winter days and the current snowstorm, the lot was very dark. Looking around, he also realized his was the only car parked there.

"Oh crap," he muttered, "Jerkajollied myself good this time. The twenty forth, and we were only supposed to work half a day. How the heck could I be so stupid?"

"Jerkajollied... nice word. It just sort of rolls off of the tongue, doesn't it?"

Snofo whirled around, half expecting to be smacked in the forehead by a tire iron. There was, however, no attacker. In fact; there was no one at all.

"Get hold of yourself Snowden," he muttered, "You're not going crazy, it was just the wind."

As he looked around the dark parking lot, the snow began to fall even harder causing a true hush to fall.

"You know... it's good to hear you call yourself by your given name. How long has it been?"

Snowden whirled about again. Pulling his attitude up defensively he began to say, 'Do I know you?', but froze; the words stuck in his throat. Standing on the other side of his car was a huge Horse looking as if it had just stepped out of a holiday beer commercial.

"Easy there big fella," the Horse told him in a good imitation of Mr. Ed. "You try to run and you'll..."

Dropping his briefcase, Snofo spun about, took one step, and his legs shot up into the air like he was a puppet with cut strings.

"I was gonna say," said the Horse, carefully clopping his way around the car, "You'll fall on your ice." He snickered and then stood mutely looking down at the human.

"I'm dreaming?" the man asked, looking up at him.

The Horse blinked. "No."

"I'm dead then?"

The Horse snorted, a cloud of steam momentarily shrouding its head. "No."

"Someone slipped drugs in my coffee? Probably Alice; getting back at me for spitting in her eggnog. I never did trust her."

The big Horse shook his head, the sleigh bells on his harness raising a jingly clatter. "Wrong there too Bucko. You got the invitation didn't you?"

Snowden groaned and sat up. "No... what... no..." His hands went to his head, which was pounding. He decided to play along with his apparent hallucination. "What invitation?"

"To go fur."

"Oh yeah, I got that one. Now go fur yourself and leave me be."

The Horse bent its head down and grabbed the man by the collar of his coat, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go then," he managed through a mouthful of wool fabric.

Moving him around to the other side of his car, the huge beast placed his head at Snowden's back and gave him a push in the direction of the woods. For a moment the man skidded about on his good Italian shoe leather, and it looked like he might fall on his 'ice' again.

"You might want to take your clothes off," the Horse told him, shaking his head again and making his bells jingle for emphasis. "It'll hurt less that way."

"Hurt less?" This was becoming all so confusing. "What... who..."

"Your body change," the big animal replied. "You got clothes on, and they kinda get a little tight when things start happening. They'll rip apart eventually, but you'll be talking like someone was squeezing your cherries."

Snowden had a sudden thought for an 'out' to whatever it was that was happening to him. He turned to face his tormentor, grinning as he considered the huge loop hole. "It was an invitation you moron." He held a hand up. "Wait... stop pushing." He put a finger on his unwelcome companion's nose. "You have to accept an invitation, and I never..."

"Think back a moment there Wilber," the horse told him in his Mr. Ed imitation again. He swished his tail chasing the snow flakes. "What did you do with your invitation?"

Snowden dropped his arm and thought back, letting his mind see his cubicle again. "I stuck it to my wall and then poked it full of thumbtacks."

"Rightttttt," the horse told him with a wink. "And what image did the thumbtacks create?"

"Nothing; I just stuck them in randomly." He thought a moment more, seeing something but not so clearly. "Let's see now; if I was to take a guess like in one of those psychology ink blot tests, I would say they made..." and then he saw what they made quite clearly. Each of the differently colored little button heads looked just like ornaments; and they made a distinct outline. "A Christmas tree," he said in a hushed voice.

The horse snorted and jangled his bells again. "Bingo."

Antlers began to sprout from the man's head.

"Times a wasting," the Horse told him. "Best strip and then keep walking towards the woods. It ain't hunting season so you'll be all right until we can get you further north. You can call me Beer Keg, and I bet you can't guess what show I was watching when I doodled a horse onto my invitation."

"A Mr. Ed rerun?" Snowden asked in an apparent daze. Reaching up he felt the sprouting antlers with his fingers and then with resignation began to strip, letting his clothing trail off behind them as they walked.

"Bingo again," Beer Keg told him. "By the way," he sniffed around the human's midsection, "You're now a female."

"Great," the former man mumbled, "And I suppose I'll be making the sleigh run tonight too?"

"Nahhh..." the Horse replied. "Not till next year... that takes training." He seemed to think for a moment and then added, "If I bring some mistletoe by the stall tonight, you think maybe..."

Snowden slapped the monstrous beast on the shoulder. "That is so not funny!"

Beer Keg snuffled and then shook his head, ringing the bells again. "Ten minutes into the change," he groused, "And she's already a bitch."

"What did you say?!"

"Noth'n... just keep walking. For what it's worth; Merry Christmas Snowy."

There was a moment's silence, and then the new reindeer replied, "Merry Christmas Beer Keg. I'm sorry I slapped you."

"No problem... I kicked a hole in the wall when it happened to me. The wife got home from shopping and found me in the house; freaked her out big time. Next thing I know she's got my shotgun and she's plugging shells into the magazine."

"What did you do?" Snowden asked.

"The hole in the wall got suddenly bigger," he laughed. "Old Kris came and got me later that night. I was right scared out of my mind."

"That's what this is all about?"

"Sorta, maybe, kinda."

When they reached the edge of the woods, the transformation was complete. As the snow closed in around them, (the now) Snowy asked, "Do I get a last wish?"

"You mean like a telephone call when you're arrested?" He shook his big head. "I'm aware of your situation, as all the greeters are briefed on their assignments... you got no one to call kiddo."

"I'd like to leave a present for Alice," she said with a strange smile.

"That's doable... Old Kris is easy like that, and tonight is the night."

"It's not something he would want to deliver."

"Oh?"

The new doe leaned close and whispered into the Horse's ear, after which he chuckled. "I see," he responded. "Tell you what... I'm pretty good friends with Donner. Let me talk to him. It'll cost ya though... later I'll be bringing that mistletoe around."

As they walked into the woods, the snow closed around them, and all that was left was the soft jangle of Beer Keg's bells.

The following morning, the police received the strangest call from one very irate woman. Apparently someone had snuck into her house in the middle of the night and pooped under her Christmas tree. The duty officer assured her with a straight face that a patrol car would be around shortly.

After he hung up, he laughed so hard he strained himself.