Snowflakes

“Hey, snowflake,” one of the young bucks said to Cupid while grazing against her white-tailed backside.

She was tired of these parties, tired of these bucks. She wanted out of this town, but she knew she couldn’t leave him, not now. They’d grown up together, weathered the loss of her mother, his bullies, and now his cane problem. They were all each other had.

“Have you seen my cousin?” Cupid asked.

“Someone just pulled out a five-pounder in the den.” His friends started to snicker. “Let that kid play around in the snow!” They laughed as she walked past.

She found him bent over the coffee table, the canes already crushed up, and by the looks of his nose, a third of the bag had just gone up it.

“Damn it, Rudy!”

He jolted upright, knocking some of the peppermint crystals to the floor. “Shit!” He nervously tried to salvage the fallen powder before all was lost in the fibers of the carpet. The rest of the room cleared out.

“Q, I know what you’re thinking…”

She walked over to him and crushed a broken candy cane into the carpet.  He frantically tried to sniff it up. She had no choice. It had come to this. She spun around, reared up her hind legs and kicked Rudy so hard she broke the other wall with his body.

“Enough, cuz.”

When he came to, Rudy looked at Cupid and burst into tears: “Okay.”