Литагент HarperCollins - The Grinch - The Story of the Movie - Movie tie-in

Meanwhile, Max scurried into the Grinch’s wardrobe to fetch his master’s outfit for the day. Using his mouth, he tugged the cord to turn on the wardrobe light. Then he flipped through all the pairs of green trousers on labelled hangers. The labels read:

BAD DAY

DISGRUNTLED

GRUMPY

MISERABLE

NASTY

VERY MISERABLE

WRETCHED

Max pondered the selection. With Christmas so near, the choice was obvious: VERY MISERABLE. Max pulled the trousers off the hanger and handed them to the Grinch, who snapped them on. SNAP!

Looking in the mirror, the Grinch used a finger to swirl up the curly tuft of green fur on the top of his head, saying, “Boop!” He swirled Max’s tuft up, too. “Boop!” Max wagged his tail.

Now he looked his very best (or indeed, worst), the Grinch was ready for the day ahead. But first, breakfast!

The Grinch crossed his bedroom and plopped down into a big red chair under an opening in the ceiling. His weight triggered a spring that lifted the chair up through the hole and into the dining room. He arrived right at his place at the table.

Max, who had already hurried up to the dining room, yanked another rope. This rope snaked through a system of pulleys that lifted the cover off the Grinch’s plate.

“Ooh, I am starving!” the Grinch said, leaning forward to see what delicious dish Max had prepared for his breakfast. He blinked.

Sitting on the plate was a single bean.

The Grinch turned to Max for an explanation. “What is this?” he demanded.

“Arf! Arf! Arf!” Max barked.

“No, no, no, no,” the Grinch said, shaking his head. “That’s impossible! We can’t be out of food!”

He ran to the kitchen. Every cupboard he flung open was empty. “Where’s my personal reserve of Moose Juice and Goose Juice?” he cried. “My emergency stash of Who Hash? And my secret slew of frozen Beezle-Nut Stew?”

The Grinch stared at the empty shelves. “I specifically bought enough food to last until January!” He patted his stomach guiltily. “How much comfort eating have I been doing?”

The cupboard containing Max’s dog food was also empty. Max’s tummy rumbled loudly and he stared at the Grinch with his big eyes.

The Grinch held up his hands, protesting, “No, I won’t. I will not.” He folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. “I am not going to Who -ville during Chrrr …” He struggled to spit out the word he hated so much. “Chrisss … argh! Chrrriii … Christmas! Ugh!”

Max nudged his empty food bowl towards the Grinch.

“Fine,” he said at last. “But I’m going to despise every second of it.”

Oh, the Grinch HATED Christmas! And he especially hated Who -ville at Christmas time. No one knew why, but the rumour was that his heart was two sizes too small.

As the wind howled and sleet blew, the Grinch and Max trudged through the twisted iron gates and headed down Mt. Crumpit into Who -ville. The Grinch’s long red-and-white-striped scarf flapped around his neck in the bracing breeze.

In Who -ville, it was a busy, bustling morning. The whole town was covered in Christmas decorations, making it look as though it had been built out of gingerbread. Every shop window, every street lamp and every bench was decked out with garlands and tinsel. The place positively glowed with good cheer and excitement.

A bus pulled up to a stop, and the driver leaned out to greet one of the waiting Whos. “Hey, Ted!” the driver called out in a friendly voice.

“Morning!” Ted said as he climbed aboard. Other passengers behind him said their cheerful good mornings as the doors closed and the bus pulled away from the snowy curb. VROOM!

Down the street, Donna Who saw the bus moving away. She was going to miss it! “Wait!” she shouted, beginning to run. “Wait, hold the bus!” She dodged other Whos on the pavement as she ran. “Excuse me. Sorry. Coming through!”

Sam, the driver, finally heard Donna yelling outside. “Oh!” he said when he saw her. He stopped the bus straight away and opened the doors.

“Oof!” Donna grunted as she tripped and fell in the snow beside the bus. She picked herself up and climbed the steps, brushing snow off her coat and trousers.

“Sorry, Donna,” the driver apologised.

“That’s okay, Sam,” she replied. “Thanks for stopping! Phew!”

Under her winter coat, Donna had on the medical scrubs she wore for her job as a nurse. She dug out coins and dropped them in the fare box. DING! DING! DING!

“They’ve still got you on night shifts, huh?” Sam asked.

“Sure do,” Donna answered, nodding.

“Oh, by the way,” Sam said, “Cindy-Lou forgot her hockey stick.”

“Of course she did,” Donna said, smiling. “That’s my girl.” Sometimes Donna thought her daughter would forget her own nose if it weren’t attached to her face. Especially in the days just before Christmas when all the excitement seemed to push everything else out of her head.

As he and Max reached the edge of town, the Grinch sang to himself gloomily, “Jingle bells, Christmas smells, make it go away! Dee dee da, dee dee dee da …”

Trying to avoid all the holiday cheer, he hurried past the decorated shops and the Whos in their colourful jumpers with his head down. But four Whos singing Christmas carols spotted the elusive Grinch and followed him through the town, determined to serenade him.

The Grinch screamed and ran!

Breathing hard, the Grinch ducked into the town’s general store. DING! A cheerful bell rang as he pushed the door open. A friendly Who shop assistant smiled and greeted the Grinch warmly. “Oh, hello! Happy Christm—”

The Grinch held up a finger to stop him. “Nuh-uh,” he interrupted sharply, cutting off the assistant’s Christmas wishes.

Moving down the aisles of the shop the Grinch quickly scooped can after can of Who Hash into a little wagon Max was pulling. He was in a foul mood, surrounded by cheerful Whos buying their Christmas nonsense. Perhaps he’d try a little sabotage …

He turned the corner into a new aisle and passed a shopper who was staring at the shelves of food. While the Who wasn’t looking, the Grinch snatched a jar of spicy pickles out of her basket. He unscrewed the lid, pulled out a pickle and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. Then he made a disgusted face. “Blech!”

He spat the pickle back into the jar, screwed the lid back on, and dropped the jar into another Who ’s basket!

He passed another shopper who was trying to reach a jar on a high shelf. She stood on her tiptoes, stretching her arms. The taller Grinch reached round her and plucked the jar off the shelf. “Eh, what’s this?” he sniffed, reading the label.

“Ooh!” the lady Who exclaimed. “Excuse me.” She tapped the Grinch on the shoulder and he turned to look at her. The lady pointed at the jar. “Are you getting that? I need it for my Christmas stuffing.”

“Hmm,” mused the Grinch, looking at her. “No.” Smiling, he put the jar back on the high shelf where she couldn’t possibly reach it. Then he walked away.