Rudy has one job. One night. Every 365 days. He’s had to improvise with odd jobs the other 354 days. Santa lets him pose for commercials [which, as we observed on 7 December’s post] doesn’t come with a paycheck.
If you had a red light shining in your eyes as soon as you rested your weary head on a pillow every night, you’d bee an insomnia too. When his nose wasn’t keeping him awake, his thoughts were.
“Ideas multiply all day, up in my antlers, then sprinkle down at night, like-time released jolts of electricity,” he told his therapist during a particularly trying session.
“Try to capture your thoughts,” the therapist told him
Rudy set traps for his thoughts, but they all slithered through the cracks. Until one night. Rudy had attended a late afternoon wake for an old trainer who had been blindsided.
That’s deer chatter for deer in the headlights, the tenth victim the season. In fact, more deer had been killed by headlights than drilled though by hunters.
Was there something that would save deer lives?
[Insert non-disclosure signature here. Big Sis is watching. Steal this idea and Rudy will know where it came from.]