Chapter 51 — In which Reindeer Girl Rarirurero’s Red Nose is Cured with Makeup
“Come on, Rarirurero! Kill her!” Peter said.
“I can’t!” The terrified reindeer hugged herself and trembled.
Feeling safe from attack, Aiueo straightened her back and tossed her hair with confidence. The smuggest of laughs tickled her voice. “I thought so.”
They returned to the workshop, and no sooner had Peter undone Aiueo’s reins than she was back in semi-human form, like a caribou satyr, and off to join her friends. As Peter unfastened Rarirurero she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re just too nice. That’s a good problem to have.”
Ordinarily, when under the watchful eye of Santa, the solemn judge of goodness for goodness sake, the reindeer were perfect little angels— never swearing, never stealing, nor smoking, and never ever playing with knives. In fact, they never engaged in any unsavory or illicit behavior— while Santa was watching. Once her back was turned— well, that was a different story. A story of brutish behavior, mean-spirited teasings, and cold-hearted exclusion— exclusion most foul!
When left unsupervised the reindeer stables degenerated into the North Pole’s epicenter of naughtiness. The half reindeer girls lounged in unladylike poses, kicking their hooves up atop furniture, and puffing away at cigarettes. Huddled in a circle they slapped down frayed playing cards— a stolen stocking stuffer, no doubt— and grumbled like men about being dealt hands that were utter shit. The most fiercesome reindeer, Zazhizuzezo, who wasn’t afraid to run anyone down with her antlers, spent her free time idly playing a game for psychopaths, five-finger-fillet. With a stiletto knife of terrifying size, she skipped the point of the blade between her human fingers. It was the naughtiest of games, for winning yielded no prize at all, and losing meant amputation. Oh Zazhizuzezo, it’s all fun and games until you’re at a hospital getting your ring finger sewn back on.
What horrible girlfriends these reindeer satyrs would make! Not a single feminine virtue among them— no modesty, no kindness, no cuteness— well, if you ignore their fluffy tails, button noses, and freckled shoulders. But certainly no cuteness from within! None of the skirt twirling, happy dancing, or big wide smiles that melt men’s hearts— that’s for sure! A veritable pack of rogues, they were! Ear-picking, world-weary scoundrels one and all. Bitches— in a word. Yet for all their horribleness, Peter could not deny that they were all really, really, ridiculously beautiful. Their slenderness, their delicateness, their wild hair and regal antlers— so sickeningly lovely! How is it possible? Does evil turn girls beautiful or is it beauty which turn them evil?
Away from that unsavory bunch Peter and Rarirurero retreated, to a quiet and peaceful corner of the desolate outdoors. Together they sat in the smokey light of the seal lantern like two friends about to play a one-on-one game of spin-the-bottle. Peter wrestled out of his pocket an Aggretsuko shaped compact full of flesh colored foundation. He told her to lean forward, then dabbed and painted the makeup across her nose. Little by little, the delicate pinkness of her skin blended away to a cold, blushless ivory.
“So fighting is off the table,” Peter said. “But we can stop their bullying if we raise your social value. Make you the most popular reindeer.”
“I don’t know…”
“All we have to do is make them super jealous. Then they’ll want to be your friend.”
“Really? Does that make sense?”
“Sure it does. The most popular girl in school is always the most envied.”
What an adorable moment— a boy teaching a red-nosed-reindeer the magic of cosmetics. More magical yet was the look of joy in Rarirurero’s eyes when she beheld her new, pale nose in the mirror. The gloomy girl gasped and smiled together at once— a smigasp— and happiness flit, frolicsome, about her, and her eyes sparkled with bliss to behold the truly successful makeover. It was a complete transformation! Well— not physically— her nose was still the same shape— and she looked more or less exactly the same— like removing glasses from a girl who was already pretty to begin with— but it was a transformation of her spirit. Reborn— like a butterfly changed into… the same butterfly but with eyeshadow and rouge. Rarirurero, who had never given into vanity before, tilted her head left and right, and held the mirror every which way, awestruck by the beauty that was herself.
“I’m beautiful!” she said.
Peter smiled. He felt his heart twisting in knots for this antlered girl. He felt like he had done a good deed for someone who truly needed it.
“Sure! If you layer on an inch of makeup!” a reindeer shouted.
And just like that the moment of makeover bliss was dead and lost forever. Rarirurero’s eyes regained their usual luster of gloom, her posture which had straightened during her self-admiration hunched downwards once again, and her little reindeer lip quivered with unfathomable sorrow. Those bullies and their hurtful words shoved her to the very precipice of tears. And now she stared down into a cavernous abyss where she could never be pretty. Don’t believe them, Rarirurero! The hundreds— if not thousands— of rule 34 fanart are testament to your adorableness! Don’t become one of those girls who always wears a surgeon’s mask in public! What a loss it would be to hide our face from the world!
“Call her a bitch,” Peter whispered. “A slut. A whore. Anything.”
Rarirurero hunched her shoulders, curtained her hair around her face, and looked groundward. She would not throw back insults at the other reindeer— she was incapable of it. Instead she just curled up and accepted their abuse.
“You know, without that makeup she wouldn’t be pretty at all.”
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Peter turned and glared at the hateful hecklers— unleashing a laser beam of pure indignation at the bullies. The guff of these gals! Can you believe it? Like a school of happiness-devouring piranas the fluffy-bottomed girls had encircled their prey, and they nipped at Rarirurero’s self-confidence with vicious metaphorical teeth— the carnivorous teeth of childish name calling! Raw, fiendish, bone-gnawing accusations of ugliness. “Fugly!” “Lightbulb nose!” “Tomato face!” “Maybe she’s born with it— no, it’s definitely a gallon of Maybelline.” These champions of ass-hattery exhausted their repertoire of foul taunts unto the poor reindeer with self-esteem issues. What is it with girls accusing others of wearing makeup? As if Naninuneno did not endow her cheeks with fake eye pencil freckles. As if Zazizuzezo’s dark and smokey eyes were not carefully painted with eyeshadow. What Christmasy hypocrites!
“Peter! I’m cold!” Naninuneno pouted and tugged at his arm. “Could you come warm me up please?”
“Do you have any money? Let’s play poker!”
“Or we can skip the poker and you can just give me some money.”
The reindeer pranced towards Peter, chests puffed out and faces all bedroom eyes and pouty lips. They slipped their hands across his arms and his chest and wedged their way between him and poor Rarirurero. Before he knew it they had lead him away, and left the red nosed reindeer all alone. When Peter looked back and saw her just sitting there helpless— mouth agape but unable to protest— Peter broke their seductive reindeer spell— swatted their lusty hands away— and went off alone to the workshop. Girlish giggles followed his escape.