Читать книгу The Grinch: The Story of the Movie: Movie tie-in - Коллектив авторов, Ю. Д. Земенков, Koostaja: Ajakiri New Scientist - Страница 7

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.