Work Text:
Shatner's agent had talked him into the Christmas Eve gig; it was for charity, and Seattle was a short trip. But it meant a late-night return flight, and he hoped to nap through most of it.
No such luck. His seatmate snored, and first class was full.
So Shatner sat up and sighed, staring out at the starlit sky.
And saw....
No, not a sleigh and eight flying reindeer -- a beagle in a Santa hat, flying a doghouse towed by eight small yellow birds.
And all he'd been drinking was ginger ale.
Silently, he resolved to fire his agent....