Bewitched!

By Robert Lubrican

It was a normal Halloween. Two little zombies were coming up the walk, ready to beg for candy and make empty threats. Their mother, looking like a witch dressed for a Playboy spread, waited outside the gate on the walk. But then it became a very abnormal Halloween, when a mob came around the corner headed our way. They were tearing up everything and raising ... well ... hell. I had to take the witch and her two zombies inside with me, right? I mean it was for their own safety. And when the mob burned their house to the ground, they had to have someplace to stay, right? And it would only be for a little while, just until she could get her feet back on the ground. Or so we thought. Turned out differently. Both she and her little zombies got under my skin. Astonishingly ... I got under theirs too. And not in a creepy Halloween kind of way, either.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Lubrican
• Release date: Oct 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310607387

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.

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Bewitched!

by Robert Lubrican

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015 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 to use cover art purchased at istock.com

*****

Chapter One

Halloween was never one of my favorite holidays as a kid. I didn't get excited about it because we lived on a farm, with no neighbors close, so I didn't get to go trick or treating. Not like other kids did, anyway.

Oh, we went to town a couple of times, and my dad would let us off in the fancy part of town, so we could go a few blocks and rake in as much candy as possible, but we never had bags stuffed full like some of the kids talked about in school the next day.

And I was never a believer in ghouls and witches and goblins and all that sort of thing. Of course I suppose nobody is really, except a few wackos, but even the fun of believing in that stuff so you could get scared during movies, didn't do much for me. And then they started making the movies super high tech and all that crap and I just quit going to movies entirely.

I know I sound like a cranky old sourpuss. That's fine. I made a very good career out of being known as a cranky old sourpuss.

And then I met Valerie ... and everything changed.

But I'll get to that in a minute. First, you need to understand where I was in my life when I met her. I work for Tan-Gen Limited, which is a global business that has its fingers in practically every industry that exists, from toys to genetic medicine. And my position with them is somewhat unique. That's because I'm somewhat unique. I've never found a doctor (psychiatrist or psychologist) who can explain how I do what I do, but if you insert me into a system, and let me watch it for a week or so, I can identify for you the strong and weak points of that system.

Take, for instance, the manufacturing of trash bags. You have two big rolls of plastic that feed sheets into mated halves, which then go through rollers that press the edges together, along with another pressed joint every 18.5 inches. If you introduce a serrated blade that cuts almost through the roll every 18.5 inches, you can make a roll of plastic that will tear into separate bags easily, giving you a trash bag that's 18.5 inches long.

Sounds simple, right?

It took who knows how many engineers to design and build the machinery that does all this, and it worked flawlessly. The problem was that none of those engineers actually used those trash bags. Maybe they were married, and their wife took care of trash bags. Maybe they had a maid. The point is that they didn't install that bag into a trash can, or take it out and tie it up to dispose of when it was full.

I, on the other hand, did that on a regular basis. So I noticed that if the trash bag was two inches longer, it would fit the trash can better and you could roll the top of the bag over the rim of the can. People wouldn't get so frustrated with the bag sliding down into the can. Further, it was easier to tie, especially if you also inserted a draw string into the design.

Yup. I'm the guy who invented the draw string on trash bags. And Tan-Gen's subsidiary that made trash bags tripled their sales within three months. It was counter-intuitive, because nobody would have thought you'd make more money if you increased the amount of materials in the product and spent more money making it.

But I did.

And I didn't know squat about trash bags when I walked into the plant.

I'm a troubleshooter. I notice trouble, and imagine ways to solve problems. I have a talent for picking up on how a system works, and how it could be made better. And because my style wasn't anything like what efficiency experts commonly did, I was almost always successful, while all they did was fix things that weren't necessarily broken. Even my salary got paid differently. They were only too gleeful to give me the terms I asked for when I started work.

I want three percent of whatever I save or make you, I said.

Three percent, said John Granger, CEO of Tan-Gen Ltd. My dad played golf with him and got me the interview. That's not much, he said. That's three cents on the dollar.

That's what I want to be paid, I said.

Deal, he said.

On my first job, I saved them thirty-two million dollars in production costs, and increased business by ten percent. When Mr. Granger figured out that my first paycheck was going to be almost half a million, he about had a heart attack.

But he also realized how much money I would make the company, if I could do that for them again. And again. And again.

So I worked for them twelve years as an actual employee, and earned more money than I could spend if I bought a new car every day until I die. Now I'm a consultant, which means I work for fun. I get to take the jobs I feel like taking, and can say no to the others. That ticks people off, but I've been ticking people off for years. Engineers hate me with a white hot passion, because I don't have a degree in engineering and I make them look stupid. Whoever designed the system I go in and tear through hates me too, because that system was their baby, and they didn't think anything was wrong with it. But I knew what kind of power I wielded, and I didn't care what idiots thought, or how much they resisted, saying I didn't know what I was talking about. I always did. I always got my way. And only once did something I recommended fail to increase either productivity or profits.

So what does this have to do with Halloween? Or Valerie Martin?

Well, I learned a long time ago that people who have money also have parasites flocking around them. So I don't live like I have money. I live in what looks like a normal house, on Piquant Street in Great Falls, NY, which is a suburb of Niagara Falls, NY. There is also a Richardson Falls and an Evening Falls, which shouldn't surprise you when you realize all of these coat tail towns were started by land speculators way back when.

So when I'm not off making Tan-Gen millions, I live just like every other schmoe in town. Or look like I live that way. I don't buy lots of glitzy things that would flaunt the fact that I'm the richest son of a bitch in the county. Instead, I invest my money in ways that will improve my own standard of living.

Like the renovation I did on the house after I bought it. I called in people from outside of the Niagara Falls area, so nobody in town would know they turned my house into a fortress that even SEAL Team Six couldn't get into. And I bought a 1966 427 Chevelle SS, and had it restored to pristine condition, because I think it's the most beautiful car ever built. It's short, squat, and powerful, like I am.

But the main point of all this is that, at 8:45 P.M on October 31st of 2011, I was living in what passed for a normal town, where kids went from door to door on Halloween and begged for candy, making empty threats to trick me if I didn't treat them. I actually loved it, because I had good treats, the kind that made kids eyes bug out, and I had a blast awarding them.

And that brings us to Valerie Martin. Valerie was dressed as a witch that night, all in black. Her hair is naturally black as coal, and goes all the way down to her ass ... witch's hair if ever I saw it. Plus, there just isn't any makeup in the world, short of full fledged, professional movie masks, that could make this woman look awful. She had tried to make her eyes look dark, and had added a greenish tint to the face paint she was wearing, but all she looked like was a beautiful woman trying to look like a witch, and only presenting the hint of witchiness.

The two little hobgoblins who she pushed through my gate and up the walk to my house looked the part much better. They appeared to be between six and ten. I've never married or had kids, so they all look pretty much the same to me. They were made up to look like zombies. They were wearing torn clothing, and their face paint created an unhealthy pallor pretty well. The boy shambled wonderfully, but the girl, who turned out to be his twin sister, was too scared to act the part. That might have been because I had spent over ten thousand dollars on the skeleton suit I was wearing. It was high tech, and from more than ten feet away, it looked like I actually was a skeleton. It even had sound effects, of shaking bones and chattering teeth. The eye sockets lit up red. It was great.

If you want a treat, you have to come get it, I growled into the microphone of the device that distorted my voice and made it sound like it came from a tomb.

The little girl decided she didn't want a treat. Her brother had more courage.

When he got close enough to discern that I was actually wearing a skeleton suit, and was not, in fact, a skeleton, he took another step forward confidently.

Whatcha got? he asked, bravely.

What do you say? my voice boomed.

Trick or treat! he responded immediately.

Take your pick, I said, opening the cooler I had beside my foot. In it were toys, sacks of candy, coupons for a year's subscription to various children's magazines, gift cards to various fast food restaurants, and toy stores. I even had a card that said I'd pay for the first year's medical bills and food for a puppy, if that puppy was adopted from the pound and given to a child for Christmas. I made that one up myself. I hadn't had any takers on it yet, but that's only because every kid who wanted it had a parent with him or her.

Now those of you who are discerning may have noticed that when I met Valerie and her children, I put the time in there, along with the date of Halloween for the year referenced. If you don't live in Niagara Falls or its surroundings, that time and date group might mean nothing to you. But if you watched the news on the first of November, that year, you probably saw our little town's fifteen minutes of fame. That's because, roughly fifteen minutes prior to when Valerie Martin sent her twins up my sidewalk, what became known locally as the Tuscarora Riot got kicked off.

Tuscarora is the name of an Indian tribe, and they have a reservation near Niagara Falls. What happened was that a member of that tribe was minding his own business, putting gas in his pickup truck at Sam's Get and Git convenience store, when a bunch of bikers rode into the parking lot to patronize the liquor store next door to Sam's. It was closed, because the town selectmen had decided Halloween was enough trouble without a bunch of drunks hooting it up too. The bikers were upset, and decided to take it out on Sam's customers, whereupon the Tuscarora Indian, who also happened to be a three tour veteran of Iraq, taught their leader some manners. Then, since there were two dozen more of them, he hopped in his truck and took off. He was brave (no pun intended), not stupid.

They called what happened next the Tuscarora Riot, which isn't fair, because there was only one Indian, and two dozen or more bikers. But people have been fucking over Indians for hundreds of years, so we shouldn't be surprised. Anyway, there was this mad chase, which caused a bunch of accidents, and people started chasing the bikers, some of whom crashed and had to run for it. Pretty soon there was a crowd of mostly people in their teens who had no idea what started the whole thing, but were having a wonderful time raising hell and tearing stuff up.

And a group of about fifty or sixty of those juvenile delinquents came around the corner of Elm and Piquant streets, at 8:45 PM. They were throwing rocks and bottles and running up onto porches to smash pumpkins and kicking down fences and just generally acting like assholes as they surged toward my house.

And toward Valerie Martin, who was standing on the sidewalk.

Now, believe it or not, a mob is actually a system of sorts. It has a body, and it has movement. There are generally leaders, and there is something that motivates the mob. So you can sometimes hypothesize what a mob is going to do.

Basically, I analyzed the system that was approaching my house, and recognized some control measures that might lend themselves to affecting the outcome of the situation.

I delayed putting those control measures into place long enough to snatch up the little zombie standing in front of me and put him inside my front door.

You need to bring your daughter into the house now, I roared. I didn't mean to roar, but the voice thingy was still plugged in and working fine. The average mother would have simply screamed, snatched up her remaining child, and run for it to report the madman who had kidnapped her son. But Valerie wasn't the average mother. Plus I pointed one skeletal arm and hand at the mob, and her head turned and saw 'horde of savage beasts' bearing down on her. She was a smart girl. She ran, scooped up the little girl zombie and followed me into the house, where at least there was only

Reviews for Bewitched!

[jim · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great flowing story line, and the characters were brought to life. I also didn't notice any misspelled words or grammatical errors as I do in many other stories. Excellent job!