You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them. That's what everybody says.
It was 11 P.M. On a November date, which was Wednesday Night. The Grinch, as he was titled from the Whos, was not expecting to be awoken from his dog, Max. To be driven out of his home and into a blizzard to investigate a cry, and to be peering down to a discolored umbrella which for an odd reason stood tall, and sturdy against the harsh winds, as if the base was attached or wedged into something that carried a decent amount of weight.
The fact made him curious for a foreign reason, but instead of forcing back the boiling emotion inside of him, he strangely gave into it. Curiosity was the dominant emotion, his ego was the recessive. The Grinch leaned over, and grabbed the pole protruding downward from the umbrella part, and gave a quick yank.
Snow broke, tumbling down onto the already snow-coated earth as the Grinch's blazing yellow eyes darkened with disappointment as a basket was revealed out from under the thick sheets of snow. The umbrella was attached to this? Even though the Grinch was disappointed from his discovery, he couldn't help but catch the movement of something shifting inside the confinements of frozen stiff blankets that he had failed to see at the first discovery of the brown woven basket.
"What's this?", He mumbled, knitting his overly hairy, thick green eyebrows together in confusion. The blankets—to which he could now define as the colors of green and blue—seemed to have a fast tremor to it. Drawing back the two layers of frost covered blankets; he nearly dropped the basket in shock.
There was and is something causing the blankets to quaver. Underneath the blankets laid an infant—a hairy one at that—shivering involuntarily, and goose bumps had formed from its little head to its toes. What appalled the Grinch the most was that…it was red. Tinted head-to-toe in thick hair was a baby, suffering from the first stages of hypothermia, which appeared to take on the looks of him. It was only that color could separate them from one another.
The discovery embroiled the Grinch. Was this the cause of the crying? A baby Who, or a What—whatever it's called! Looking around, the Grinch turned around—pumbersella in hand—and stalked towards his home in a daze with Max at his side. The bite of the snow didn't faze the Grinch now. He was too deep in thought.
The reason for his fast decision to take the baby into his home—he didn't know. Like the rhyme goes, "Maybe his head just wasn't screwed on just right." Maybe he should speak to a therapist about his sanity, but his mind was slowly agreeing with the opinion given upon him. What was the mixed feelings stirring and festering inside of him? Why did he care if the baby died of hypothermia or not? Why did he have this strange sense of security that the infant would be safe? He answered himself simply with three words, "I don't know.".
Safely returning to his residence with little complications because of Max's sensitive nose, the Grinch strides over to his bed on the upper floor of his cave to hopefully unfreeze the infant who still shivered harshly from being stuck outside in the freezing weather.
Coming to a halt before his bed, he peeled off the cold sheets the baby was wrapped in, he grabbed the little hairy Who, and tucked it under his bed's thick and heavy covers with stiff movements. He was, above, all confused over the ordeal. The main question he kept repeating in his head was why? Why did he save this Who? Why did he even care? Why?
He was supposed to be the 'monster' that displayed no emotions, but sadness and anger, the creature that invaded children's dreams, forcing them into a nightmare. He was the Grinch who was vacant of any caring emotions to any living creature, but why did he feel the emotion of regret when it came to this child being left in the snow?
He must be sick. That was the only other alternative. Yes, he must have the flu that's been going around Whoville. He could only guess that one of those pranksters that came up to his cave to irk him, somehow had it, and he, perhaps in a way, have caught it? Or maybe when he was taking his little 'stroll' around Whoville, messing with people, he caught the fever from a Who unknowingly.
The Grinch sighed, clearly frustrated, and glanced down to the child who had at this time, stopped shivering. "Whoever you are, wherever you came from, you are causing unpleasant feelings inside of me. I hope you're happy, kid.", he grumbled.