Preparing for a Christmas when the Grinch would not be a bummer.
His heart had grown large and he had learned to behave,
Spending more time in Whoville than he did in his cave.
But one day in the fall he was up on his mountain,
Working with Max to sculpt a Santa-shaped fountain,
When his fond thoughts of winter were interrupted,
By a wails, groans, and moans — oh so disruptive!
“Now what could this be, this sorrowful din?”
“Is Whoville in trouble? Should I check in?!”
He ran to his window in a whip-cracking hurry,
But down below he saw no reason to worry.
The Who’s were giving piggies their fattening treats,
Or sharpening the knives used to carve roast beasts.Whoville is well, the Grinch was happy to see,
So there is only one thing that sound could be:
In the town of Whyville, in the Valley of Grey,
The Whys were all preparing for Deathsmas Day!
When the daylight fades and the wind turns cold,
The Whys all contemplate how they’re getting old.
“What’s the point?” They wonder, ever so smart,
As they whine and they sob make depressing art.
Art! Art! Art!
For fifty-three years the Grinch used to love it.
Art! Art! Art!
Now somehow he felt that he was above it.
So low down were some of those poor sad Whys,
By mid fall they would give up their lives.
On a bleak fall day as a celebration of Death,
The frailest among them would breathe their last breaths.
This year the the Grinch felt pity in his great, big heart.
“If only I could inspire them to make happy art!”
Then he got an idea! A lovely idea!
The Grinch got an
awfully
wonderful idea!
“I know just what to do!” He was feeling quite blithe,
Then quickly he grabbed a robe and a scythe.
“With this cloak and this tool I’ll look just like Him!”
“I’ll go do their reaping, but I will not be grim!”
In a fantastic frenzy he packed what he would need
And saddled up Max dressed as a pale steed.
They rode into the valley down the mountain so steep
As the Whys down in Whyville all went to sleep.
Not a soul noticed when the Grinch came to town,
No one stopped him from putting cheerful decorations all ‘round.
He mowed lawns, planted pink flamingos and potted flowers
The Grinch thought “Why would they go to bed at this early hour?”
The sun had only just set at six forty five,
Yet the quiet street would suggest not a soul was alive.
Impatiently the Grinch knocked on a door with his scythe.
A teen girl answered and sadly said “At last, you’ve arrived.”
“Ah, yes,” said the Grinch in a deep, gravelly voice
“I have come for Deathsmas and you are my choice…”
“Of party planner, to help me make this party start”
“Now summon your angsty friends who make depressing art.”
Baffled, the girl looked the Grinch up and down,
Skeptical of his fuzzy green skin and black dressing gown.
But he had a scythe and pale horse and all
So she whipped out her celly and placed a few calls.
In no time at all the Whyville hipster teens assembled
Though a funeral party was what they more closely resembled.
“Whhhhyyyy the long faces?” the Grinch emphasized the pun
But this only made them look sadder, for some reason.
“Let’s get turnt, my chill bros and dope queens.”
“Summer may be over, but the world is not as dark as it seems”
Jolly Grinch handed out glow paint and lite beer
And bumped Cardi B like it was last year.
The teens dragged their feet as if to behave,
But it was clear none of them were feeling a rave.
“Mister Reaper?” asked the girl who answered the door,
“Isn’t the true meaning of Deathsmas something more?”
The Grinch stopped putting Mardi Gras beads around necks
And waited to hear what the girl would say next.
“Whyville has been drowning in sorrow, it’s true.”
“But we can’t just ignore our fate and party like you.”
“You are an immortal being with no earthly ties,”
“We live with the memories of every loved one who dies.”
The Grinch’s heart ached and he truly turned grim.
It began to make sense that these kids would not party with him.
What he mistook for good cheer was really wanton neglect.
He had to say something to show the Whys his respect.
“Indeed, to disregard the dead would make us a bunch of phonies.”
“So join me, fellow kids, as we pour one out for our homies.”
Solemnly together they poured out buckets and buckets,
And with respects paid, the Whyvillians all said “Fuck it”
It was time to have fun, and not just mourn the dead
But celebrate all lives, both past and present instead.
They really cut loose, in a cool, clever, hipster way.
Ironically listening to pop music and saying “Par-Tay”
They played all kinds of games that proved they were smart
To the Grim Jolly Grinch this was the most beautiful art.
And what happened then? Well…in Whyville they say,
That the Grinch’s small brain grew three sizes that day!
The End
Harmless Writing 