The Grinch: The Story of the Movie: Movie tie-in

First published in the USA by Random House Children’s Books in 2018

Simultaneously published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

The HarperCollins website address is

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright © Universal Studios 2018

The movie Dr. Seuss’ The Grinch © Universal Studios 2018

Based on How the Grinch Stole Christmas! book and characters

TM & © 1957 Dr Seuss Enterprises, L.P.

All rights reserved.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008288303

Ebook Edition © ISBN: 9780008288310

Version: 2018-10-11

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Celebrate with these other festive feasts …

About the Publisher

Far past any place you’ve ever been, surrounded by snowy mountains and deep forests, was a beautiful, wonderful town – a town like no other.

Who-ville.

Who-ville was a happy, friendly place full of happy, friendly Whos. But there was one time of year when Who-ville became even happier, with festive decorations and music everywhere. In the weeks before Christmas, the Whos rushed around Who-ville buying presents, bows, glitter, wrapping paper and delicious food for their family feasts. On street corners, Whos handed out green wreaths and striped candy canes, made fresh right on the spot.

Lots of fresh, sparkling white snow fell on Who-ville all through the wintertime, and the Whos loved it! They rode snow-bikes to work. They skied. They sledged. They skated. They made snowmen. A special machine even cranked out snowballs by the dozens for snowball fights.

Yes, the Whos down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot.

But the Grinch, in his cave north of Who-ville, did NOT!

The Grinch’s cave towered high above Who-ville, up on Mt. Crumpit. A winding trail towards it was crowded with signs that read:

The Grinch did NOT like visitors.

Through twisted iron gates stood a door carved into the side of the mountain. Through that door, in a well-furnished cave with a maze of rooms and chambers, lived the grumpy green Grinch and his faithful little dog, Max.

On the snowy winter morning of 20 December, the Grinch lay in bed under a pile of thick blankets, snoring. It was five days before Christmas – a fact that the Grinch had been doing his very best to ignore.

The clock radio on the Grinch’s chest of drawers clicked from 6:59 to 7:00. The radio began to play a loud and jolly song.

The Grinch’s eyes popped open. Groaning, he stretched his furry green hand out from underneath the blankets and found a stack of books on his bedside table. He picked one up and threw it across the room at the radio. WHOMP!

But the radio just kept playing. Now a different, even jollier, even LOUDER Christmas tune was playing.

The Grinch threw a tennis racquet at the radio. WHACK! The station changed to one playing yet another Christmas song.

Enraged, the Grinch finally threw a lamp at the clock radio, knocking it off the drawers and into a deep crevice in the rock. “Humph,” said the Grinch. But just as he gave a satisfied little smile …

… the tinny notes of a festive tune drifted up from the rocky depths. It was still playing.

The Grinch sighed. “MAX!” he yelled. He yanked a rope next to his bed. Bells rang out through the cave. DING-A-LING-A-LING!

Max woke up right away. His master needed him! Tail wagging, he got to work making the Grinch’s morning cup of coffee.

Max did ALL the household chores, and the cave was full of pulleys and levers to help him. He now ran up some steps to a small platform, pushing the plunger down into a coffee pot to fill a cup. With a measuring jug gripped tightly between his teeth, Max poured steamed milk to draw a frowny face on top of the Grinch’s coffee. Just how the boss liked it!

With the coffee carefully balanced on a tray on top of his head Max backed into a mini-lift. He pulled down on a handle, and the creaky old lift slowly carried him up to the Grinch’s bedroom.

DING! The lift door swung open and Max stepped out, careful not to spill a drop of the coffee.

Groaning and grunting, the Grinch took the hot drink, stood up and slid his feet into his slippers. He slowly walked to the bathroom, accompanied by the distant sound of Christmas songs playing from the bottom of the dark cavern. He grimaced.

“A shower’s just the thing to drown out that racket,” he growled.

The Grinch lingered a while in the shower, trying to forget about Christmas. When he stepped out, a blow-dryer turned on automatically, fluffing him up like a dandelion clock. He walked through a frame lined with bristles which brushed his fur and smoothed it down.

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.

How rude! “Well!” said the lady, shocked. “That’s not very nice.”

Then before he reached the end of the aisle, the Grinch gave the shelf a sharp bump with his elbow. The jar tottered, tipped, fell and shattered on the floor. CRASH!

“Oh, sugarplum!” the lady Who wailed.

The Grinch chuckled. This day was looking up.

In her kitchen, Donna Who stood by the sink, trying to unclog it with a toy arrow. She held a telephone between her ear and her shoulder as she struggled.

“I just got off the night shift,” she told her friend on the other end of the line. “I have a list of errands a mile long, AND the babysitter left the kitchen sink clogged up.”

Donna finished her phone call then called to her daughter, “Cindy-Lou, sweetheart, come and eat!”

“Coming!” Cindy-Lou answered.

The kettle started to whistle loudly from the stove. TWWEEEEE! “All right,” Donna said, turning from the sink to move it off the stove. As she opened a bag of bread, she noticed her son Buster teething on his twin brother, Bean’s, head. “Buster, we’ve talked about this,” she reminded him. “Your brother’s head is not breakfast.”

She tossed a couple of bread slices in the toaster, then set bowls of cereal in front of her twin boys. They turned up their noses at once. “Blech!” Buster said, sticking out his tongue.

Exhausted, Donna slumped over the sink for a moment. Just then, her daughter, Cindy-Lou popped through the door bundled up for the cold weather, her blonde hair braided into two long pigtails tied in bows. She had blue eyes, a big smile and almost everything she wore was pink. In her hand she clutched an envelope.

“Are you all right, Mum?” asked Cindy-Lou.

Donna forced a smile. “Yes! Never better!” She pointed to the sink. “What’d you put down here, anyway? A roller skate?”

“No,” Cindy-Lou replied. “Just batter. Me and Mrs Wilbur made cookies.”

“Oh, that explains it,” Donna said. “Come and have some eggs.”

“I can’t,” Cindy-Lou said, “I have to go and post something. But I made the beds and put away the twins’ toys.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Donna said, smiling. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Cindy-Lou shrugged. She liked helping her mum. “I don’t mind.” She sniffed the air. “Something’s burning.”

“Just a second, sweetie,” Donna said, turning her attention to the twins. “Bean, don’t feed your brother with your feet!”

“Mum, the toast!” Cindy-Lou cried as black smoke rose from the toaster.

“I’ve got it!” Donna said. She popped the singed slices out, and set them in front of the twins. The boys grabbed the toast and happily chomped away.

“I’ll be back soon, Mum!” Cindy-Lou said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Donna said. “Where are you going, again?”

“I told you,” Cindy-Lou said, waving the envelope. “To post a letter.”

“Okay, but just come here first,” Donna said, stretching out her arms.

“Mum, I’ve got to go,” Cindy-Lou insisted. Then she relented. “All right,” she sighed. She went to her mum, who hugged her and kissed her forehead.

“Okay,” Donna said. “Now you can go.”

“Thanks, Mum!” said Cindy-Lou as she hurried out. “Bye, Buster! Bye, Bean!”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Donna called after her.

“Roger that, Mum!” Cindy-Lou said as she went out of the door.