How The Grinch Stole Christmas Sayings Novels & Stories

"Hey I want gift too... This year I am going to have fun..." "Yes, this is our first Christmas and I'll make it special... Better than you have had with your family..." Those words slipped from my mouth and i instantly regretted. Fuck!

All I want is something, anything that will act like a distraction, anything that will shield me from those men. Looking back, I cursed under my breath when I noticed them chasing after me. “What the fuck is their deal?” Why are they acting as if I stole their Christmas present? I cringed at the word Christmas. Let’s just say I have the worst experience when it comes to Christmas. Growing up, I used to think that Santa Claus is actually real, that he actually dropped gifts every Christmas Eve. Imagine the disappointment of a seven years old when she found Santa Claus bleeding out on their porch, only that it wasn’t actually Santa, but my father Mr. Fordd Smith.

He didn’t want to ruin her Christmas with memories of him. He was the Grinch. Scrooge. The enemy of Christmas. It was better for her to have the holiday without him ruining things. Better to leave before the stakes were too high. If he left now, she could still have a happy Christmas. Better to wake from the dream than have it turn into a nightmare. His hands went to his head, his heart aching with the choice. A tear trickled down his cheek. He held his phone in his hands, cradling the numbers he could see there. The decision was made and he was choosing wealth.

Mama finally got up ranting and throwing money, “fuck you all! Ya’ll selfish bitches want Christmas and some real parents, then here you go.” She threw a wad of bills in the air and left the room to get ready for the night's rendezvous. “Well, little girl I guess you got what you wanted, Merry fucking Christmas. Now clean up this mess and get that damn bush out of my living room.”

Melissa commented, "You guys, stop making things up. Mr. Golding was just being kind by keeping a lonely soul like me company for Christmas!" Just then, a drunken Yves embraced me from behind, his wandering hands becoming restless. I reached out and turned the light on. The love bites on his neck were glaringly red and prominent. I held my phone to his face and coldly asked, "Is this what you meant by having things to do?" A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by impatience. "You're even jealous over this? It's just a superior being empathetic toward a subordinate," he said.

“I’m going to tell you what I told you when you were a little girl on Christmas Eve. Just be patient. You’ll get everything you want in due time.” “And I’m going to say what I said back then. Phooey,” she spat out playfully. They laughed.

I thought that nothing else mattered as long as my parents were happy. But now, the persimmon incident had thoroughly woken me up from my delusions. Since they were treating me like an outsider, there was no point in my continuing to make a fool of myself. I chuckled coldly and said, "I'm not thinking of doing anything. I just wish you and your family all the best." After that, I went into my room to pack up my things. Dad came in after me and slapped me hard across the cheek. "Don't you know that it's Christmas! What do you think you're doing with that damn attitude of yours? It was just a damn persimmon! Why the hell must you make the entire family so awkward and uncomfortable over that?

Finally, the car stopped at a park. With Christmas trees and lights all over the place. So many fun activities are going on. It was snowing. I came down and started jumping, and the loud Christmas music made it more fun. “Merry Christmas!” I screamed. Did he just smile? Zayne was watching me play around. I dragged him into the circle and made him jump with me. This felt so good. “Here, have this jacket. It is very cold.” He removed his jacket and gave it to me, but I was finding it difficult to put it on because of the gloves on my hands.

But to my surprise, when Gram had called me downstairs on Christmas morning-I always spent the night with them on Christmas Eve so that we could enjoy breakfast and gifts together the next day-I walked down the steps into the same holiday wonderland that had greeted me every December twenty-fifth of my life. "How did you do this?" I stood alongside the tree, my hands on my hips, staring at the beautifully wrapped presents. "What do you mean? I didn't do a thing." Gram pressed her hand to her chest. "This is all the work of old St. Nick. He came down the chimney while you were sleeping. Somehow, you must have bamboozled him into thinking you were a good boy this year, because look at all thes

he mutters, rubbing his neck, “about that...” “Eh!” I shout, not wanting to turn his emotions into something sour, “I know all about your troubles, Santa.” I wiggle my nose, “I know the North Pole has been especially cold this year, and Santa's had to be very frugal this Christmas.” He nods, “I'm glad you understand.” I shake my head. “That doesn't mean Santa gets off scot-free.” He puffs out his chest, putting on his best deep Santa voice, “What can