Holiday Insanity

By Dean Wesley Smith

Six really, really, really weird holiday stories from the different worlds of USA Today bestselling writer, Dean Wesley Smith. In this volume, Dean presents six very wild and different holiday stories that will keep you smiling.

"Jukebox Gifts"

"Santa's Snack"

"Ambassador to the Promised Land"

"Sprinkle on a Memory"

"Dead Even"

"A Golden Dream"

You love holidays, you love slightly twisted? Dean gives you both layered on thick in this amazingly fun volume.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201267414

Dean Wesley Smith

Considered one of the most prolific writers working in modern fiction, USA Today bestselling writer Dean Wesley Smith published far more than a hundred novels in forty years, and hundreds of short stories across many genres. At the moment he produces novels in several major series, including the time travel Thunder Mountain novels set in the Old West, the galaxy-spanning Seeders Universe series, the urban fantasy Ghost of a Chance series, a superhero series starring Poker Boy, and a mystery series featuring the retired detectives of the Cold Poker Gang. His monthly magazine, Smith’s Monthly, which consists of only his own fiction, premiered in October 2013 and offers readers more than 70,000 words per issue, including a new and original novel every month. During his career, Dean also wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds. Writing with his wife Kristine Kathryn Rusch under the name Kathryn Wesley, he wrote the novel for the NBC miniseries The Tenth Kingdom and other books for Hallmark Hall of Fame movies. He wrote novels under dozens of pen names in the worlds of comic books and movies, including novelizations of almost a dozen films, from The Final Fantasy to Steel to Rundown. Dean also worked as a fiction editor off and on, starting at Pulphouse Publishing, then at VB Tech Journal, then Pocket Books, and now at WMG Publishing, where he and Kristine Kathryn Rusch serve as series editors for the acclaimed Fiction River anthology series. For more information about Dean’s books and ongoing projects, please visit his website at www.deanwesleysmith.com and sign up for his newsletter.

Book preview

Holiday Insanity

Holiday Insanity

Six Really, Really, Really Whacked Out Holiday Stories

Dean Wesley Smith

WMG Publishing, Inc.

Contents

Introduction

Jukebox Gifts

Introduction

Jukebox Gifts

Santa’s Snack

Introduction

Santa’s Snack

Ambassador to the Promised Land

Introduction

Ambassador to the Promised Land

Sprinkle on a Memory

Introduction

Sprinkle on a Memory

Dead Even

Introduction

Dead Even

A Golden Dream

Introduction

A Golden Dream

Also by Dean Wesley Smith

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About the Author

Introduction

Six Really, Really Whacked-Out Holiday Stories

Sadly, I actually watch the Hallmark and Lifetime holiday movies during the holiday season. Yup, I am one of those people.

Why? Why do I do such a thing? (I get asked that a lot, actually.)

The reason: I just love the feeling of turning my mind off, relaxing, and watching something upbeat that will end well.

And yes, I do have the ability to just turn my mind off like that when it comes to holiday shows. And I honestly think that frees me up to write some really strange holiday stories as well.

Of course, I tend to write strange stories anyway, so combine that with holidays and sometimes things just combust.

For example, the first story in this collection, Jukebox Gifts, might be my most famous short story, not just holiday story. Originally published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, it got all sorts of attention and has been optioned in Hollywood numbers of times. It takes the idea of gift-giving to an entirely new level.

The second story, Santa’s Snack, takes a very simple look at the very simple tradition of leaving out cookies and milk for Santa. And the lesson that goes with that tradition.

In the story Ambassador to the Promised Land, my character has an alien encounter. I find this story stupidly funny and I sure hope you do as well. I know I had a blast writing it and honestly, it is a holiday story. You won’t find it as a Hallmark movie, but I sort of feel that is too bad.

Now the next story, Sprinkle on a Memory, was first published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. A family story where murder matters more than the cookie. Very different than the previous story, that’s for sure. Nothing funny about cookies and murder. Both very serious topics.

Dead Even is a Poker Boy story. It is set on Christmas Eve, as many Poker Boy stories tend to be. The story is about doing a good deed under very strange circumstances. Typical Poker Boy story.

The last story in this book is another jukebox story. I opened this collection with a Christmas Eve jukebox story, so figured I would end with one.

A Golden Dream might be the purest of all my Christmas stories. First published under the title The Song of a Gift Horse in the anthology Black Cats and Broken Mirrors, the story is about the choice of looking back, or looking forward. Often a holiday theme for many, many people.

Sure hope you enjoy these twisted holiday stories as much as I did writing them. Happy days.

Dean Wesley Smith

Las Vegas, Nevada

Introduction

A bar, five friends, and a very special jukebox that lets you time travel back to a memory for the length of the song.

What could go wrong with giving such a special trip and the gift of a second chance to each of your closest friends?

First published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction way back in 1994, this story kicked off my Jukebox Series of stories, even though the first real Jukebox Story was published in Night Cry Magazine in the 1980s.

For those wondering, the Jukebox Stores are tied to the Thunder Mountain series of novels.

Jukebox Gifts

Chapter One

The stereo behind the bar was playing soft Christmas songs as I clicked the lock to the front entrance of the Garden Lounge and flicked off the outside light. I could feel the cold of the night through the wood door and the heat of the room surrounding me. I took a deep breath. Christmas Eve was finally here.

I could see the entire lounge and the backs of my four best friends sitting at the bar. I had never been much into decorating with Christmas stuff, and this year was no different. My only nod to the season was a small Christmas candle for each table and booth. Some customer had tied a red ribbon on one of the plants over the middle booth, and the Coors driver had put up a Christmas poster declaring Coors to be the official beer of Christmas. The candles still flickered on the empty tables, but the rest of the bar looked normal. Dark brown wood walls, dark brown carpet, an old oak bar, and my friends. The most important part was the friends. My four best friends’ lives were as empty as mine. Tonight, on the first Christmas Eve since I bought the bar, I was going to give them a chance to change that. That was my present to them. It was going to be an interesting night.

All right, Stout, Carl said, twisting his huge frame around on his bar stool so that he could face me as I wound my way back across the room between the empty tables and chairs. Just what’s such a big secret that you kick out that young couple and lock the door at seven o’clock on Christmas Eve?

I laughed. Carl always got right to the point. With big Carl you always knew exactly where you stood.

Yeah, Jess said from his usual place at the oak bar beside the waitress station, What’s so damned important you don’t want the four of us to even get off our stools? Jess was the short one of the crowd. When he stood next to Carl the top of Jess’s head barely reached Carl’s neck. Jess loved to play practical jokes on Carl. Carl hated it.

This, I said as I pulled the custom-made, felt cover off the old Wurlitzer jukebox and, with a flourish, dropped the cloth over the planter and into the empty front booth. My stomach did a tap dance from nerves as all four of my best customers whistled and applauded, the sound echoing in the furniture- and plant-filled room.

David, my closest friend in the entire world, downed the last of his scotch-rocks and swirled the ice around in the glass with a tinkling sound. Then, with his paralyzed right hand, he pushed the glass, napkin and all, to the inside edge of the bar. So after hiding that jukebox in the storage room for the last ten months, we’re finally going to get to hear it play?

You guessed it. I ran my shaking fingers over the cold smoothness of the chrome and polished glass. I had carefully typed onto labels the names of over sixty Christmas songs, then taped them next to the red buttons. Somewhere in this jukebox I hoped there would be a special song for each man. A song that would trigger a memory and a ride into the past. My Christmas present to each of them.

I took a deep breath and headed behind the bar. I hope, I said, keeping my voice upbeat, that it will be a little more than just a song. You see, that jukebox is all that I have left from the first time I owned a bar. Since I’ve owned the Garden Lounge, it has never been played.

Jess, his dress shirt open to the third button and his tie hanging loose around his neck, spun his bar napkin on top of his glass. So why tonight?

Because a year ago on Christmas Eve I made the decision to buy the Garden Lounge, and try again.

And I’m glad you did, David said, lifting his drink in his good left hand in a toast.

Here, here, Fred said, raising his drink high above his head and spilling part of it into his red hair. Where else could we enjoy a few hours of Christmas Eve before going home to be bored.

All four men