This story already doesn’t make much sense, so don’t make it any harder on yourself by starting in the middle.
You magically appear in a dark stable in a pile of dark hay. Okay, maybe the hay is regular hay or maybe it’s all just dried out black licorice your call!
After that whole Santa ordeal you’re beginning to think that maybe you’ve been whisked away to the Manger where Jesus was plopped out and that you’re now going to have to wrestle Joseph or some shit. You look out a small window cut into the wooden boards that make up the stable’s wall and instead of seeing Three Wise Men pissing equations into the snow, you see this:
Either you’re back at that pervy barber shop or still in the clutches of the North Pole. You let out a frustated, “Errrrrrrrrrrrrrfffff” sound then exit the pen that you materialized into and go looking around the stable.
In the darkness you can make out some large creatures in the stalls opposite yours and unless you’re being fucked with, they most be Santa’s famous reindeer. The bad news is you’re still on Santa’s turf, but the good news is that Phandor must have meant reindeer when he mentioned “ice rats”.
You immediately feel the urge to choke each ice rat to death as revenge for all the crap Santa and Phandor have put you through and without realizing it you’re already in a pen marked “Blitzen”, ready to squeeze the magic (and life) right out of him.
You stop in your tracks when you notice a brand in Blitzen’s humongous hind quarters:
Your way out of this stable is somewhere behind that brand and since you’ve been mentally preparing yourself to stick your arm up something’s butt at some point during this adventure, you don’t hesitate.
At the point of entry, the reindeer makes a sound EXACTLY like this:
“What the dizz, mate?” comes a voice that sounds like Mel Gibson, pre-American accent.
“Sorry, I figured the portal was in your ass,” you respond, hoping that you’re correct in assuming the voice came from the reindeer and not some guy standing behind you who will make fun of you for thinking a reindeer was talking to you.
“No mate, that’s loony. You won’t have to reach into anything’s bum, trust me. Now get on my back and we’ll get this over with,” Blitzen explains calmly.
“So embarassed,” you mutter as you lumber onto the big creature’s back.
“I’d prefer if you didn’t hold on tight because I’ve got sensitive antlers but it’s something I have to say for legal reasons,” says Blitzen as he trots out of the stable and into the night.
“What legal reasons? What the fuck is this? You’re a reindeer and I’m in some living Advent calendar!” The frustration is evident in your tone but Blitzen ignores you and begins to fly into the night. You only get to enjoy it for a few seconds before you disappear.