Rudolph's nose was very, very red. But you knew this already. It was, in fact, his claim to fame. You probably don't know, though, the nature of this redness, or how it left him desolate and broken, or the length he went to get it, and the fame it brought him, back. Go pour yourself a cup of cocoa, and take a seat, because I've a story for you.
It was during his adolescence, when Rudolph fire awoke to his paddock bathed in red ambiance. His eyes went from drawing open to popping out his head in precious panicked seconds. He first thought it light from a fire, but the cold met under his hay sheet just as it did every morning. Then he thought that it could be a searchlight shown in by an alien, or a cop, or some other abducting creature, so he decided to freeze absolutely still. It was the North Pole, so that was easy. But the light did not pass, or even falter. When he finally dared to move, he was so shocked to see it follow him that he immediately dived to the snow-laden ground. Later, but less later than before he mustered the courage to get up. And the light got up too. He went to the bathroom because he had to, and the light watched him do it. Then he whetted his antlers and stretched his legs as his father taught him. It was only when he blew his nose that the light looked away. Wow, he thought, kleenex's marketing team is getting more aggressive. But it wasn't that at all! He looks into a frozen lake and he sees it; an astronomical pimple upon his nose.
What happened next, you know as well as I do. Usually, people say this when neither party knows squat - but it's not what it means per say. You should know this, they've made a movie about it and everything.
Eventually, like the housing market, that pimple popped. As they are known to do. And Rudolph everything that ever was special about him. No longer did he dodge the paparazzi, but rather big-game hunters. Sure he could play in the reindeer games, but not the nationally televised ones, and once you get a taste... He couldn't even get a job. Santa Clause took one look at his dull black schnauz and kicked him out of the toy factory. Rudolph stumbled back home and smarted. Then he concocted a plan.
The next morning, Rudolph entered the shop through the back door and punched in under a fake name. And he snuck over to Santa's office, and he snuck the door open while his prey was watching a little brat kid screaming throughout a supermarket and taking notes. Rudolph nipped the list from his big meaty hands, wrapped it twice around his unprepared neck, and pulled tight. Father Christmas toppled from his desk chair. On the floor, Rudolph sampled him with his antlers he had been whetting since the very beginning to tenderize the meat, and then he ate the body clean. The only evidence of murder, the crimson matted to his nose. When he left that office room, Blitzen and Kitchen and the other ones all recognized him again, and there were happy enough to ignore the fact that Santa was missing, because he paid them like crap and, well, he wasn't the one flying around the world, was he?
And that's why your parents have to fake and lie about all those things on Christmas Eve.
