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Christmas Eve on Monday

By: BeaverReturn

"Holiday cookies will be served at the end of this story."-BeaverReturn

His eyes slowly cracked open as the morning radio woke him. On the radio the soprano pitched boys' choir sang their holiday cheer, "I'll be home for Christmas" in perfect concurrency. That tune first thing in the morning was enough to set him off wrongly. With a low growl he swiped a large paw towards his bed stand, and the radio, song and all, fell to the ground with a large crash. As he pulled himself up to sit at the edge of his bed he looked towards his clock on the floor. Unplugged from the wall it now ran on battery, the dim and conservative display looking up at him, seeing with no eyes. He looked away, turning his head to observe the vacant space behind him. His heart-sunken guilt then became understandable. The white bear stood up, returning the clock onto its stand and plugging it back in.

"...If only in my dreams." The song concluded.

The shower hissed as it warmed up, slowly filling the room with steam. The tight space of the room had become cloudy, the steam fogging up the bathroom mirror so nothing could be reflected within its reality. Behind the curtain the polar bear stood, rubbing the spray of descending warm water unto his fur, the refreshing sensation vacating the last bit of morning weariness out of his body.

"Room for one more?" A low voice called. Two large arms came around to grab the polar bear's midsection from behind. Brown fur against white fur, the breath of the brown bear tickled the tips of the polar bears ears. Before the white bear could respond, the brown bear lashed a tongue over the pink interior of one of his pale ears making him gasp. The touch enticed the bear's arousal out of its sheath, his erection becoming teased by the sensation of warm rain drizzling onto it. The embrace tightened, the vice of his arms enveloping him completely. He could now feel behind him stiff male-hood as it grinded between his cheeks. The polar bear growled, his voice uneasy with desire,

"You are certainly perky this morning." He observed

The brown bear pushed a lone paw-finger forward into the entrance of the polar bear, "I see that some of my seed has still remained from last night. Mind if I top you off?"

"Not at all."

The brown bear pushed forward, forcing the polar bear against the bathroom wall in front. Set-up like a ramp, the temperate water from the shower faucet trickled down the white bear's back and unto his hole, moistening the fleshy ring as the dominating bear entered it. The affection of the embracing bear mixed with the hot shower, in combination, was heavenly.

The brown bear grunted at each of his thrusting movements, deeply pushing his offerings into his polar partner. The other bear replied with whimpering gasps as he pumped his paw along the length of his arousal, his shaft, hard, pulsating, his knees, buckling, abating, as the spontaneous morning encounter brought him towards sudden release. Thick streams of seeds were shot out into the hot air, slapping onto the bathroom wall and streaking down like sprits of foamy bathroom cleaner.

He hit the valve off as he fell unto the porcelain floor of his shower. The steam wafted away, leaving crisp and clear a vision of the hollow white vicinity that was his bathroom and tub. A feeling of isolation arrested his heart. Pulling out the two paw fingers that he had placed inside of himself, he feared what looking behind him would reveal. He did so anyways because there was no use pretending anymore. As he suspected there was only emptiness, whatever phantoms had come to visit him had left alongside the departing mist.

Wearing only a towel the polar bear plummeted onto his bed. His morning had defeated him enough already, and now he wished to only sleep the holiday away. As he rolled onto his back, starring towards his ceiling, he realized that his alarm radio had been left on. Closing his eyes, he listened. Oddly enough the song was the same, but now was it sung by a single low, dark, and lonesome voice,

"I'll be home for Christmas."

A smile broke across the Polar Bear's face as he reached towards his bedside table. In his paws he grasped the pair of dog tags that rested there. Holding them to his heart he continued to listen, the tears like shower water cutting down his face,

"I'll be home for Christmas...if only in my dreams."

***

Thank you for reading my THIRD and final Christmas-y/seasonal/winter story!

If you find that my stories keep getting shorter and shorter, it's because lately I've been having this urge to explore more and more with flash-fiction. I want to know how short I can make my stories while still being able to call it a story.

Originally I could of had this story at 500 words, however what came out of it was just a sex story with very little context. It defiantly killed the story for me, making it into pure smut, which can be good for a quick wank but doesn't exactly classify as something submitable for me. I think I'll try again to write a furry-erotica in 500 words less. The trick is to be disjointed without losing continuity and flow, while at the same time picking the appropriate scope to write from. As for this story, I had an idea I wanted to present and it just could not be captured in 500 words or less without losing its purpose as a story.

Anyways, the theme of this story becomes a bit soapboxy so hold tight...

I came up with this story as I was listening to, "I'll Be Home For Christmas" (obviously) that was sung by a boys' choir on the radio. Listening to the song made me realize how easily we forget, or rather how easily we evolve the context of holiday songs away from their original intent. It's quite easy for us to commodify these songs into holiday classics, while at the same time seemingly censoring their original meaning within the collective thought of the public. It was when I listened to this song by the boys' choir, and then when I listened to it again sung by Bing Cosby, that I realized the meaning to, "If only in my dreams" is truly lost. If you don't know what meaning I'm talking about. Consider the song was released in 1943.

Another good example is, "Have Yourself a Merry little Christmas." The history of the song is quite depressing as it is another wartime song that is used later to discuss escape from an "abusive" domestic sphere when Judy Garland sings it, "Meet Me In St. Louis." Although to understand the "abusive" part in the song may take some interpretation, I believe there's enough evidence within the image of the scene itself that speaks beyond what Hollywood was able to say during its years of censorship. Watch the scene on YouTube or watch the whole film (if you like musicals). The theme of "escape" (from what exactly?) is a pretty big motive all through-out the film. I don't know, I always like looking at the darker side of Hollywood Musicals, how in more cases then not, there is usually a hint of macabre under all the Busby Berkley smiling faces.

Now, I don't mean to bring everyone down over the holiday seasons, or make it seem like I am completely cynical this holiday season (bah-humbug!), for really I plan to consider this more of an example of how language and meaning can evolve. Pessimistically, we can see this as a damnation of memory, where we choose to become ignorant to the past, or optimistically, we can see this as a restoration into something new, as in taking the past and reinventing it more positively.

I guess my perspective is, is that honestly a boys' choir singing "I'll be Home For Christmas" is annoying, next time I listen to, "I'll be Home for Christmas" (by Bing Cosby) I'll contemplate both its new and old meaning, and realize the true permeability of all information, for better or worse.

Wow, that was a bit academic, I'm sorry. Guess finals are starting to affect me more then I realize.

ANYWAYS, Rate, Favourite, Watch, and give me all your delicious comments! I'm using them to build a spaceship. (No not really you gullible fool!) HAPPY (End of) FINALS, and SEASONS GREETINGS!

P.S. Did you know Lady Gaga has a Christmas Carol? I think it's about the hypocrisy of the privatization of pharmaceuticals within countries that supposedly have Medi-care but I'm not sure. Let me know what you think?

** ***and as promised here is your holiday cookie. It's Christmas Tree shaped, and it's magical, so if you are allergic, diabetic, vegan, or dietary restricted you can still eat it.***** (Warning: digestion of the cookie is not recommended to pregnant women, or weak of heart. If digested it may lead to transformation into the furry of your choice. Should not be taken with medication)