Lubrican's Holiday Anthology

By Robert Lubrican

Lubrican's holiday offerings consist of three Santa pieces, but not your "usual" Santa stories. If you're a believer, then these stories are for fun, and to think about the Jolly Old Elf in a little bit different way than you may have before. If you're one of those sad, misguided people who DOESN'T believe in Santa ... well ... you just might be in for a rocky read, and a life-altering change in your belief system.

In a philosophical look at all things Santa, we start with a story that may make chills run down your spine. We know that Santa has a list of kids naughty and nice ... but what if Santa himself is naughty? Then there's a lusty poem to shake off those chills, followed by a story that will warm the cockles of your heart, and which you may want to share with any parents you know, especially parents of kids in the age range of, say six to ten years.

And if you, like the author, are a TRUE believer, and sometimes find yourself having to defend your belief, here are some fresh arguments that will leave the detractors with their jaws sitting on the floor. The last story in particular is for everyone who has ever been asked by a child "Is Santa Claus real?"

Warning: While there are concepts and information contained within this book that IS family friendly, the narratives themselves are not for the consumption of those under the age of eighteen. These books do contain adult concepts, and the poem is bawdy as all getout. On the other hand, Lubrican recommends that parents give serious consideration to reading the last story to their teenage children themselves. You'll understand why once you've read it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Lubrican
• Release date: Nov 13, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465996435

Robert Lubrican

I grew up in the fifties and sixties, and that is reflected in my books quite often. I spent twenty years in law enforcement, and traveled the world, which also can be seen in my books and stories. While the genre I write in is technically called erotic romance, what I actually write are stories with a plot, which include sexual behavior on the part of the characters. That is because most people's lives include sex and erotic gratification. And, since most people wonder about lifestyles that are sometimes called taboo, or forbidden, I write about them, occasionally too. I believe that two consenting adults know more about their own happiness than anyone else, and that even if they are mistaken, they have the right to make their own choices. I also believe that love is the key to making choices that will not turn out to be mistakes.Many of my ideas involve coming of age, which usually takes place in the early to mid teens. Publishing standards, however, require that all characters in the published version of the book be over 18. That's not realistic, but it's just the way things are. If you purchase one of my books and would like to have the original version, unedited for age, send a copy of your receipt to [e-mail] and I'll happily provide you with a copy of the original at no additional cost. It is not illegal to write or possess such versions. It's just unpopular with certain special interest groups who desire to restrict your freedom.

Book preview

Lubrican’s Holiday Anthology

(Stories for the naughty list)

by Robert Lubrican

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Robert Lubrican

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Rights for use of cover art purchased at iStock.com

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Table of Contents

September’s Children

What Heroes, Santa and Great Sex have in Common

The Night Before Yuletide

The Night Before Yuletide

What Heroes, Santa and Great Sex Have In Common

Foreword: This volume might seem a little odd when you compare the three pieces in it. All the stories are about the Christmas season, in one sense or another. The first could be described by some people as almost being a horror story, which isn't your usual fare in December. The second, a poem, is bawdy and irreverent, which also isn't normally expected at that time of year. The third, however, is everything the first two are not.

So why did the author choose to publish these three pieces together?

Well, the author is a philosopher, for one thing. For another, Christmas is a religious season, yet much about the Christmas season has nothing to do with religion. Nor can those aspects of culture be expunged from the holidays. And so this volume is a journey, of sorts, where we start with the creepy, and graduate from that into a lusty look at the same subject. But then we wrap things up with something hopeful, that promises that the creepy and lustful can be left behind, or at least controlled, and that our lives can go beyond that kind of thing. And while I'm sure that, from a religious perspective, most of what Lubrican writes is objectionable, the point of the last story in this volume is, in fact, based on the standards present in all major religions.

So read the whole thing before you make any judgments about whether or not this is appropriate for the season. Then see if these three stories do, in fact, represent a journey, of sorts. I hope you'll agree that, at least from a philosophical point of view, they mesh rather well.

Bob

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September's Children

by Robert Lubrican

Prologue:

Most of us have stories to tell about our chosen vocation and how it has affected our lives. In the military they call them war stories, and you can hear them all night long in any bar where military folks congregate. If you don't like bars, just spend a little time at the local VFW hall. Most of these tales are entertaining, though suspending disbelief is an ongoing challenge sometimes.

For the rest of us, our civilian war stories are usually a little less fantastic, though we all have the same urge to embellish the tales we tell. As a psychiatrist, I hear a lot of that. Some of what I hear is pure flight of fancy that fulfills some inner need of the ego. It can also be brought on by misfiring neurons, or disease, or trauma to the brain.

My name is John Smith. Don't laugh. There are, at present, 44,529 of us in the United States alone. And that is, in fact, my name, though by the end of this, my own war story, you may decide that I invented that name to preserve both my identity ... and my life. For the war story I'm about to tell you is one that may rip the fragile skin from the body of social order. The natural question to ask is why a psychiatrist, whose life is devoted to nurturing sanity, would bring forth something that may drive literally hundreds of thousands of people insane.

The fact is that I have to expose this information. I'd go insane myself if I did not.

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Usually one can make a plan to treat a patient based on the diagnosis of a known affliction that is treatable with known methods. There are also diseases we know exist, but haven't figured out how to mediate yet.

But the really tough cases are those in which the difficulty lies not in treatment of the patient, but in trying to decide whether or not the fantasies being displayed are, in fact ... fantasies. Maybe you've heard the saying "I'm not paranoid ... somebody really is out to get me!" Well, there actually are situations where that's true. It's rare, but not impossible.

I met the patient I'll call Bob when his case was assigned to me for a mental evaluation to determine whether he was capable of understanding the charges against him in court. He'd been arrested for groping a pregnant woman in a restaurant. It was late August and we'd been through a grueling heat wave. A lot of people had sought relief in air conditioned restaurants and bars and, because of that I assumed there was alcohol involved. When I checked the police report, though, I found that his blood alcohol level suggested he'd had nothing to drink at all. At least nothing alcoholic. The blood sample obtained wasn't screened for other mind altering drugs.

Bob was still in jail the first time I visited him. Normally, somebody in his situation would have been released, either on bail or to his own recognizance. It was a minor charge, after all. All the report said he'd done was put his hands on the woman's swollen belly and behave irrationally. But in this case, whatever he told the judge during his arraignment resulted in him being slapped right back in a cell until I could get there and do an evaluation.

The jail has what they call a First aid room that can be used for the kind of initial exam I was being asked to do. Bob presented as a completely unremarkable thirty-seven year old white male. He had none of the physical features of a man who has abused drink for years, and he carried too much body fat to have been involved with most other drugs for any extended period. Of course