"Everything is loaded up. Where is he?" inquired Jeff impatiently.
All the other elves were going about their business like nothing was wrong.
"This happens every year." answered Job. "He'll be here."
Just then, the workshop door opened with a clatter, and in stumbled Jolly Ol' St. Nick. He zig zagged his way over to the sleigh. "Is everything ready to go?" he asked.
Jeff, smelling the rum on Santa's breath, was frantic! "Santa! You're in no shape to be driving! What are we going to do?" he yelled.
Immediately and in unison, every other elf in the building put their thumb on their forehead and wiggled their fingers. Jeff just looked around, confused. Job took it upon himself to give the new guy an explanation.
"I told you, this happens every year. Looks like you're gonna be DD this time around, kid."
"DD? Like, designated driver DD?"
"Yep." Job replied as he shoved Jeff into the sleigh.
Jeff was in shock. He just stared straight ahead for several seconds before Job tried to snap him out of it.
"Hey, kid!" he yelled. Jeff slowly turned his head to listen. "It'll be all right. All you have to do is steer; the fat man will take care of the rest. Oh! And, if he tries to convince you that it's your job to climb down those chimneys, don't believe him. I fell for that one my rookie season; still haven't heard the end of it. Good luck!"
Jeff's eyes widened. He always imagined Santa to be a jolly kind old soul; not a booze hound! How did he always find himself in these situations? He finally came to his senses enough to try and escape from the sleigh, but it was too late. Santa had already begun slurring through his take-off roll call, "Now Thrasher; Now Danscher; Now Prancler and Vic... Vic... oh, whatever your name is. On Comet; on... on...", his voice faded out, and a thundering snore spilled forth from his mouth.
The reindeer looked at each other and sighed. This was just par for the course for them. They started down the runway and bolted up into the sky for another year of deliveries.