And after a lot of pondering, he thought of organising a festival on a grand scale, one that would put the city on the competitive global Christmas map. And what would be different here? Millions of lights all lit up at the same time? The biggest ice rink, bigger than the one in the Grand Palais des Glaces, with the city choir singing Fahoo Fores in a thousand voices, a tree to rival the one in the Rockeller Center, a flea market full of attractions and extravagant decorations, something truly traditional and to overshadow the Christkindlesmarkt in Nuremberg?
That’s how he put it to his neighbours. And in the boardroom of the town hall, as he puffed out his chest and shouted, he pointed to the curtains that concealed the screen, which were then pulled back. The lights went out and images were immediately projected in dazzling light, his inventiveness would surpass anything ever seen before: the whole of Christmas would be brought to ‘Villa Quién’ live that December 2024! And for that, he took a breath and exhaled aloud: He would have the very voice that defines, describes and inaugurates Christmas! And out of the screen came the face and the big smile of Maria Carey.
The Grinch lived in a cold, dark cave very close to ‘Whoville’. He had brownish-green fur and a bad hairdo, yellow eyes with glowing red pupils, arched eyebrows and a cynical, grumpy and hostile rictus. Worst of all was his heart, ‘two sizes too small’, beating in syncopation. Who in his right mind would want such a being as a friend? Who would confide in that little man his intimate weaknesses, his sorrows, his contradictions?
He was a lonely fellow who envied the industriousness and, above all, the happiness of his neighbours’ toils. He especially hated the unusual effort that went into those festivities. What did they achieve with them but unnecessary expenses? The lights, the decorations, the singing, the visits between relatives, how tiresome it all was! This happiness disgusted him. It was nausea that rushed to his stomach from the tip of his tongue. It was that horrifying smell of Christmas that wafted up the pathways from ‘Villa Quién’ to his cottage. Those melismas that he hated and that gave him a planned and insistent feeling of destruction, for he had tried to ruin their holidays in previous years. That’s why they didn’t like him and had built up this unjust legend of an evil being who lived hidden in the mountains. And he was thinking to himself with resentment, he who follows follows gets what he wants, and other such nonsense and twists and turns, when from the old television set he had taken from the clean point emerged the black and white images of a beautiful woman in a tight-fitting Santa Claus costume. Underneath, a date: 24 December. The Grinch, who knew little about music and even less about celebrities, didn’t recognise Maria Carey’s face, but he knew on whom he should focus his evil scheme.
On Christmas Eve ‘Villa Quién’ was buzzing with tourists and onlookers. Tickets to the festival sold out in a flash, flights from the international airport were packed with those interested in attending, and there wasn’t a room left for a hundred kilometres around. The city was a living ornament and gifts were going from here to there. All the families were making the final preparations for the great community dinner, which would be attended by the whole city and the newly arrived guests from all over the world, and which would be topped off by the voice, broadcast worldwide, of the famous Maria Carey singing her famous song live with the choir of a thousand children from the city. A thousand pure and crystalline voices.
Augustus Who was a constant hustle and bustle, transmitting orders and checking that everything was in place. Perhaps this is why neither he, nor anyone else in his team, noticed that one of the boys in the technical team had a somewhat singular physiognomy: short, stooped and that, instead of boots, hairy green hooves were sticking out of his trousers. His head was covered with a wide hood, but his intense reddish eyes gleamed with a twisted intelligence. Then someone called for help. Maria Carey had just arrived at the setup and had asked for a herbal tea to tone her voice. The journey had been tiring. The strange little man then appeared and was quick to provide her with a cup of the infusion. Minutes later he was seen leaving, fleeing up the road, and laughing, on his way to the mountain.
By the time Augustus Who was alerted, it was too late. Maria Carey, after a first sip from that cup, had fallen into a deep sleep and was lying beautifully in her dressing room, reclining on a sofa. All around her, her team stood, both spellbound and in shock, gazing at the diva, strangely more radiant than ever, oblivious to the misfortune that had befallen them. Maria Carey slept in great peace. It was impossible to wake her. How would Maria Carey sing in such conditions? They would be a global laughing stock! They had wasted their chance to put the city in its rightful place! Very soon they thought they had found the trail of the culprit in some green floss, which, on the other hand, the Grinch hadn’t bothered to hide either. The wretch was probably enjoying the moment in his lair.
The mayor, Agusto Quién, visibly beside himself, then took the microphone from the huge stage and amidst the flashing lights, spotlights and the distortions of the musical instruments being tested, raised his voice and blurted out: ‘That Grinch has no right to sully our values, he is horrible, he is not one of us! With his little finger he pointed to the sky and said: ‘We must give him a lesson so that he will never forget! One that shows the rest of the world that ‘Villa Who’ does not forgive his rudeness’.
And a long line of citizens, all of Villa Quién, accompanied even by children and tourists who didn’t understand anything at all, raided what they could, shovels and sticks, with torches that illuminated the dark night of the forest, and 4×4’s to cross streams… Because they would find the green being’s covacha to reduce him. And perhaps, if no one remedied it, they would lynch him. Meanwhile, the Grinch rested peacefully, ruminating on the satisfaction of his foolish revenge. That is why he could not hear the shouting of those approaching….
Arriving at a dingy cave they saw smoke rising from the chimney and the light of a bulb in the only window without glass. They did not knock, but simply tore down the plank that served as a door. They entered, filled with hatred and vengeance. From the signs it must have been their house.
But the Grinch wasn’t there and it wasn’t even his home. For he was a being of nature and of the forest who liked to sleep in the depths, especially on the saddest and darkest winter nights. Those were the rare moments when he found some solace for his distress.
Very soon he realised when he heard this manifestation that his situation would not be safe. He could have hidden in the depths of the mountain for months, for he knew places where human beings would never go…, And yet, guided by a confused feeling and other thoughts, he turned the other way and went straight back to the city.
In ‘Villa Who’ the streets were desolate. It was easy enough for him to find the big stage and after crossing a few stairs to reach the dressing room where Maria Carey herself was resting deep in her sleep. Everything had gone swimmingly. Just as she had planned it. These humans were predictable like that. How simplistic!
And, there rested the beautiful singer, bereft of will and utterly devoid of any defence. So beautiful! He knelt at her feet, sniffed at her for a few moments and ran his eyes up and down her little Santa Claus outfit. How ridiculous it looked on her, he thought. He savoured the sweetness of his success. Then he took one of his hands in his paws, stroked his little fingers… and then let them rest gently.
He was a sad, grumpy, ugly critter… Fiercely misunderstood by all those people. Although in essence it wasn’t bad. He had just wanted to teach his neighbours a lesson, and perhaps he had gone too far, he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to hurt her. Not at all!
And he rummaged through his gnawed pockets for new herbs, some he had selected a few days before, and found a teapot in the dressing room to prepare another new infusion for her to drink. After a short time the diva awoke. The infusion reversed the effects of the initial poison. Maria opened her eyes gracefully and, at the sight of that green, wet snout, gasped in horror. The Grinch covered her mouth, she bit him, the Grinch jumped away and made a strange gesture and asked her permission to sit next to him. He asked her in a hoarse, whistling voice: I need to know why Christmas makes men so happy. I don’t believe your voice.
They say hearts don’t grow, and that’s a lie. We just have to give them that chance. The Grinch’s grew a couple of sizes that night and I’d say Maria Carey’s would grow a couple of sizes. What they said to each other in that long conversation will remain hidden in this story, though I only ask you to imagine it. It was a seal of friendship.
Soon the men returned from the forest. That story of the greenish Grinch from ‘Whoville’ was finally a hoax, it was a local legend! A terrible being wanting to ruin their Christmas! Unbelievable! That cave would be any shepherd’s hiding place! Claptrap and conspiracies aired by the mayor to justify his institutional failure. The tourists soon got tired of chasing a shadow and realised that they had to make fun of the mayor and began to laugh at what had happened. And the children of ‘Villa Quién’, at first frightened, then calmer, understood that no one was threatening them in that forest and that it was more important to enjoy their Christmas day. They all realised that they had to give up their anger and the time of the chase. They left Augusto from ‘Villa Quién’ alone with his ridiculous revenge, busy and waiting in that little house, and quickly formed a retinue back to the city, as the children were catching a cold. But this time, one of love. They were very surprised to hear powerful music in the background. In the city someone still remained, had turned on the stage equipment at the highest possible volume and demanded their return: two voices were now singing a carol that was familiar to them. One voice was sullen, dark and off-key – who cared! The other, they soon recognised… It was the bright, beautiful voice of Maria Carey.
