Maurice was excited; he knew what to do!
He’d longed for this chance to prove all he was worth,
But Santa ignored him, to everyone’s mirth.
Maurice had fine antlers and four solid hoofs,
Immune to the flu, he could climb all the roofs.
Yet the sleigh was hitched up to Canadian geese,
And Dumbo, and Rocky — everyone but Maurice.
Prancer and pals made Maurice feel ashamed
When he thought he could play in their Reindeer Games.
And Rudolph, well he was the worst of the pack,
Telling Maurice to go home and never come back.
But the Clauses had always been nice, so he thought.
Oh, this turn of events had Maurice quite distraught.
He did not understand, the poor little guy,
So he hid in a snow bank and had a good cry.
Mrs. Claus found him there, fed him cookies and milk.
“You simply must find some friends of your ilk.
Now I’ll tell you once more, so you’ll stop asking why–
You are a moose, and moose cannot fly.”
Maurice then realized what she said was quite true
But flying was all that he wanted to do.
He bemoaned his bad luck for the way he was born
And he dreaded to wake on that holiday morn.
But the crisp, white day dawned despite all of his dread
And he woke to ten moose crowding onto his bed.
“We missed you!” they cried.
“Where on earth have you been?
Moose Games were no fun without you to help win.”
“So you left us behind to go join the reindeer…
You’re forgiven. It’s Christmas.
We’re glad you’re now here.”
Maurice felt his soul shining bright without doubt,
And he smiled at the way that this day had turned out.
He knew now that he had judged Rudolph all wrong;
That red-nosed reindeer meant
Home is where we Belong.
His heart lifted up, and he looked to the sky.
Then Maurice finally knew what it felt like to fly.
This story originated with the Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge.