HaHA. My first serious non-beyblade fanfiction, and it's about…
A Dr Seuss book? What's more, a movie studio's take on the book… But, I suppose, it was an amazing take. I grew up with these bizarre stories, so what difference does it make to me? Yeah, that's right! This makes me AWESOME!
… Ahem. Anyway. This is the story of how the Grinch stole music, or rather, The Grinch's Requiem.
DISCRIPTION: Now that the Who's have learned about Jojo's musical talent, they've all started to partake in the audible fun. But high on the peak of Mount Crumpit, a sinister enemy of the Whos is in no way pleased with what's going on. After cooking up a plan like only he can, the Grinch moves down off his mountain, kidnaps Jojo, and holds him as a hostage. Will his father and the townsfolk of Whoville be able to save their smallest Who, and will the Grinch get his wish and destroy music for everyone? Will typing any of this make it sound suspenseful and perilous, or am I just trying too hard?
WARNINGS: Mild language, depending on just how it plays out. Violence. Evil cackling. And maybe the death of a certain someone… We'll just have to read and see, won't we?
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
It was a warm summer's eve when the Grinch lost his patience
And angry and fuming, he cursed Who creations.
All of the music and all of the noise
All being made by Who gadgets and toys.
He had tolerated it for far too long, he decided
And because of his "patience" his rage had thus bided.
Now the Grinch, you must see, is no foolish beast
And when he came to hate anything at all in the least
He would brood in his cave, and stay hidden away
Until he could figure out how to make the Whos pay.
-x-x-x-
Today was his day. He was going to take the office by storm, demand respect at all turns, and lead the town of Whoville into the sunny day with a ruling fist of democracy and… and… leadership! Yes, today was definitely Ned McDodd's day. As he walked proudly across the courtyard, greeting and being greeted by the Whos he passed, he notice Ms Yelp standing on the steps of town hall with her arms crossed. She was glaring. Slowly, as he approached, the puffed ego he had talked himself into began to deflate. Oh no. Something had gone wrong. He was in trouble… Oh boy…
"Mr McDodd, you have a lot ahead of you today. VonFrood is about to pop a vein."
"But… About what?" Ned asked. Ms Yelp made to reply, but before she could even lift a finger, the paint-curling, screech-like growl of Chairman VonFrood shot out over the sound of the morning bustle.
"McDodd! There you are you baffling, blundering, boob! I told you to be here an hour ago!"
Stung by the term boob, which had since become VonFrood's nickname for him after the Horton Incident, Ned frowned and arched his eyebrows in tired curiosity.
"What? I never got a message about-"
"No, of course you didn't, because one of your billions of children forgot to pass it on. Tell me, McDodd, why is it that you allow your children to get into city business so easily?"
Ms Yelp narrowed her eyes. In all her years working for Ned McDodd, she had never developed a problem with his children. As far as she was concerned, that last comment was below the belt. "Don't you gentlemen think this is more appropriate for the Happy Dome?"
VonFrood started. He glanced at the secretary with nothing less than distaste before 'hmphing' and turning to enter Who Hall, leaving Ned and Ms Yelp on the steps. An awkward pause passed as Ned stared after the angry green who, before Ms Yelp swatted his shoulder.
"Well go on!" She said in a low, irritated voice. Ned jumped, yelped, apologized hurriedly, and raced inside.
"I swear," Ms Yelp mumbled to herself, "that man needs a reality check like no other."
-x-x-x-
"We've Got All We Need And We Need All We've Got. We Like It In Whoville, We Like It A Lot!"
Removing his thumb from his hand, Ned McDodd turned to face the city council with apprehensive expectations. From right to left, each of the five members grew taller until the group came to a stop with VonFrood, his shrewdly maintained mustache quivering as he picked something from his teeth. The gathered citizens took their seats behind Ned quietly and waited.
"The matter at hand today, it would seem, is that of our Mayor's offspring and their-"
"Wait, my children? Why is this about them?" Ned said suddenly, eyes widening at the subject. VonFrood growled something beneath his breath before straightening out and forcing a smile onto his thin face.
"Well if you'd let me continue, you'd have known by now." He said evenly. Ned swallowed and remained silent. VonFrood cleared his throat.
"After the Horton Incident, we've all been made aware of the goings on up at the old observatory."
"Jojo?" Ned whispered, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"And although it's become quite popular for your son to play 'music' every other hour," VonFrood continued venomously, "it's only too obvious that it's making nothing more than a racket! The more refined community in Whoville will agree that it must be silenced-"
"Now wait just one minute!" Ned heard himself call. He thrust a finger into the air and stepped forward bravely, shocked at his own actions. Despite the fact that it was out of his nature to act so assertive, he would not let VonFrood talk about his son that way.
"Jojo doesn't make a racket, he makes music! It's what he loves to do, and I think we can all agree that he's darn good at it!"
From the audience, a murmur of agreement filled the air. As if the noise had turned to humidity and made him uncomfortable in an otherwise acceptable climate, VonFrood adjusted his collar and straightened his ascot.
"You do not have the floor, Mr Mayor."
"And you don't have the right to say that about my son!"
"He's causing chaos up there! It's not just a family matter, it's a rumpus!"
Ned felt his face heat up. Oh, what he would give to take a swing at that snide face… "Well if you don't like it, chairman, you can always move up to Mount Crumpit!"
A few people gasped, and instantly Ned saw his mistake. The room fell silent. VonFrood stared at him, jaw open, before it closed and a nasty scowl curled his lips.
"What are you implying, McDodd?" He said in a dangerously menacing growl. Ned swallowed nervously and glanced around.
"That… You… You're like the… Grinch…" He mumbled. VonFrood twitched.
"What. Was. That?"
"That you're… You're acting like the Grinch." Ned said in a normal voice, arms dropping to his sides. The crowd behind him gasped, and a nervous chatter started up. VonFrood leaned forward in his chair slowly, as though he was impending doom in Who form.
"We do not speak that name here, Mr Mayor. You of all people should know that."
Ned looked up at him slowly. "Yes. I apologize."
-x-x-x-
Sally McDodd was ready to pull her hair out. If she heard one more whining voice call her name, she was going to snap. How she hated summer vacation. Ninety-six daughters and not a single one seemed capable of doing anything for herself.
"Mom, I want some lemonade."
"Me too!"
"Me three!"
"Mom, Hedy bit me!"
"Mom, where's the phone? Damian was supposed to call me!"
"Mom, tell Jessica to give me back my WhoPod!"
"Hey mom-"
"What?!" Sally snapped, turning sharply to face the last speaker. "Oh… Oh! Jojo! I'm sorry, dear, what is it?"
So rarely did Jojo confront his parents about anything that for the time people, her daughters would have to take a back seat. Several of them groaned in the background, but she ignored them. Straightening her hair and kneeling down to be at Jojo's level, she asked again.
"What did you want?"
Jojo, the smallest Who in all of Whoville and the oldest of the McDodd children – the only boy, at that – looked at his mother through black bangs with tired eyes.
"Never mind, mom. You're busy."
Sally blinked. "No, I have time for you, JojooaaAAH!"
As several toddler girls landed on her back and threw her off guard, Jojo managed to escape from the madness into the Hall of Greats. The second the door closed behind his small form, silence engulfed him. Not a pin dropping, or a heart beating, or a sneasel bug crawling. Just Jojo, alone with thousands of eyes staring down at him from thousands of portraits. He walked slowly, as he always did, and by the time he got down to his room, the chaos from the family room had grown to a level that he could hear it from there.
He sighed and pushed his door open. He was used to his parents being busy. Though the Horton Incident had certainly made them respect him more, it hadn't been enough to distract them from work – whether it be as the mayor or as an stressed mom. Collapsing onto his bed, Jojo gazed up at the ceiling for a good full minute without blinking before he got the idea. It was the idea he always got, and each and every time it passed through his mind, it was a good idea. Never once was it a bad idea; it had no reason to be.
He would go to the old observatory. He would tinker and tonker and work the night away, and by morning there would be yet another contraption to add to his hand-made symphony. Smiling slightly, he sat up and moved to the window, shoving it open. The tree outside had been worn smooth in places by all the times he had used it to climb out. The cool summer night's air tussled his hair, and as he climbed down the tree trunk with surprising speed, the stars in the sky began to blink alive.
-x-x-x-
Little Jojo McDodd was not the only one on their way to the old observatory. From high on the slopes of the dreaded Mount Crumpit, slumping between the gray jagged rocks, was a ghastly green figure known for several nasty things. He was as evil as could be, feared by every Who. He was the ghoul in all Who ghost stories and the beast in all the little Who's nightmares. And as he skidded across pebbles and loose ash, headed for the east side of Whoville toward the old observatory, he smiled a smile that only the most wretched of creatures could conjure. For he was the Grinch, and he had had just about enough of the music that came from that old building.
-x-x-x-
"Damnit…" Jojo growled, reaching desperately to reach the tool he had dropped. If his hands hadn't had so much grease on them, he wouldn't have dropped it in the first place, but then he couldn't really blame himself. It wasn't like he had never dropped a tool before.
Though his arms were long, the drop was longer, and as his fingers were just about to brush the metal handle of the Googen Brand wrench on the floor, he couldn't help but hear something shift behind him. Blinking curiously, he retracted his arm from the whole and sat up to look around. In the darkness beyond the light of his lantern, nothing but stillness filled the gap between the gears. He gazed at it for a moment before shrugging and leaning down again, arm once again snaking between pipes and turns and knobs to reach the wrench.
Klnk…
This time, Jojo blinked in surprise rather than curiosity. Slowly, he sat back up and turned to face the blackness behind him. He twisted around and stood.
"… Dad? Is that you?"
Klnkl-knk…
Jojo stiffened. The wrench was his only weapon, and it was out of his reach. "Dad?... Or… Molly, did you follow me here?"
…
Nothing. Maybe a bird had landed in here somewhere? He left the ceiling open for most of the day, so maybe it had gotten trapped? Or maybe it really was his sister, trying to play a trick on him again by-
"Well well well, what do we have here?" A slow, gravelly voice asked in a sign-song way. Jojo flinched horribly and gasped, so startled by the voice that he forgot for a moment just where exactly he was. No, definitely not Molly. There was a thump, followed by footsteps, and then all at once, the figure stepped into the light. Jojo felt his jaw drop. He stepped back and stumbled, falling and landing on his soundly on his rear. Never once did he take his eyes off of the huge green figure before him.
Red eyes narrowed as the smile widened, the corners of the mouth curling inward. Yellow, rotting teeth of different sizes and lengths filled the mouth, and Jojo could have sworn he saw a small bug run around two before the mouth closed for a moment and crunched down on something. When the smile returned, there was no bug.
"Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were the son of the mayor of Whoville! What a small little thing you are. Tell me, my boy, what are you doing here at such an hour?"
Jojo swallowed, feeling his heart sink lower in his chest. "F-fixing my orchestra."
The large green monster blinked curiouslybefore laughing awkwardly. "I'm sorry, did you… did you just say your orchestra?"
Jojo nodded stiffly. The beast blinked, and slowly, the smile began to fade away. The eyebrows sank over the menacing eyes. A frown began to show.
"You mean to say that you're the one who's been making all that damn noise?"
Jojo didn't reply. He didn't have too, for the monster knew the answer already. The beast stood up tall, taller than Jojo had thought possible, and the smile returned.
"Well then," he said, turning and reaching back for what he had brought, "I suppose that makes my job all the more simple, doesn't it?"
"W-What? What are you-"
When the Grinch turned around, he held in his hands a large gray sack. Jojo felt his heart race, pounding so fast that he thought it would give out. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move because he was so petrified in fear of the Grinch. He had heard the stories, the tales, and the rumors. His father had told him about the last time the Grinch made an attack on Whoville, and all the havoc he created. But as the Grinch's huge hand reached forward and grabbed the smallest Who by the scruff, he did nothing but shiver and squirm and fear for his life. By the time he was inside the sack, and the Grinch was tying it closed tightly, Jojo was just coming out of the terror-induced shock, and with the biggest breath he could take, he screamed the only thing he knew how to scream:
"YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!"
The Grinch, quite startled by the huge burst of sound, swore and flinched and swore again before taking the sack and swinging it into nearest surface as hard as he could. The surface just happened to have several knobs on it, and as Jojo's small form crashed into them, he was rendered unconscious by a swift knock to the side of the head.
After waiting for several seconds to see if the boy would move again, the Grinch spat on the lantern and put out the flame with the thick green mucus. Slinking away into the blackness with the sack over his shoulder, he cackled his Grinchiest laugh.
"Step one complete…"
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
I will look back at this and think "man I half-assed this thing", but right now I'm totally cool with it the way it is. Sorry for spelling or grammar errors. It's bedtime for me. Happy Who-night!