Tastes just like chick- . . . eww!

Dear Santa,

I know it’s been a while -- 45 years maybe -- since I’ve written. I also know it’s your off-season. How are the Hamptons? Those New Yorkers driving you nuts yet?

Listen, I have a serious reason for writing. I’m here in Alaska for a few days and discovered a disturbing trend.

Dude, they’re eating your herd.

At breakfast, there’s reindeer sausage. At lunch, reindeer hot dogs. Dinner is reindeer soup or stew. I never knew they even served that stuff, did you? Did Rudolph? Have you talked to Rudolph lately?

To be honest, I’m from L.A., and I thought reindeer were some Hans Christian Andersen creation, or at the very least Disney or Pixar. I thought they were caribou with enhancements or regular deer on antler Viagra. I never knew they were a real thing, know what I mean? I thought there were nine or so, and you had a lock on them.

The locals insist that the reindeer are being farmed, so it’s no big deal. I don’t find that comforting at all. What’s next? Elf farms?

Anyway, just wanted you to be aware of this. In two days, I’m going to Fairbanks. If you like, I can stop by the North Pole and hide Rudolph and the rest. It’s the least I can do. You’re an important guy, Santa. I’d just hate to see you flying commercial.

-- Chris Erskine