Bah, Humbug A fictional story I wrote because my daughter made a Grinch decoration for my door.

We just happened to live next door to the meanest man in town. He’d never put up a single colored light or Christmas decoration, ever. He’d call the cops if carolers came onto his property and he’d threaten me if one of my toys ended up in his yard.

His house was neat and clean, but it was stark and bare. He was older and rarely came outside other than to cut the grass or shovel snow off his walkway. He didn’t plant flowers or erect bird houses. Most people avoided him and his yard. Even the postman’s visits were infrequent. It was as though his home was a black hole for happiness.

He chased girl scouts off with a broom when they tried to ply their cookies. My mom tried to be a good neighbor by occasionally taking baked goods to him, but soon quit when he didn’t return the plates and she had to buy new dishes.

Everyone began to call him the Grinch. One night, someone sneaked onto his lawn and leaned a sign against the side of the porch that read “The Grinch lives here.” The porch was high enough that he couldn’t  see it from inside and because the Grinch rarely came outside, the sign stayed. He had no idea that the whole town was smiling at his expense.

At the beginning of December, when colored lights began to appear on other homes in the neighborhood, the Grinch’s house remained unadorned except for the sign.

One day a stray wandered onto his porch. The dog refused to leave even though the Grinch would douse it with water or swing a broom at it. Each morning the dog would be curled at his front door and each morning the dog would run partway down the walk and stop. The dog would turn, wag its tail, and cock its head to the side to stare at the man on the porch. Eventually the Grinch would grow tired and go back inside. The dog would disappear, only to return at night and curl up at the Grinch’s door.

After several days things began to change… slightly. Oh, the Grinch would come out and chase the dog. The dog would go to the bottom of the steps before it would loll its tongue and wag its tail. The Grinch would stand a bit longer to talk to the dog.

Soon the Grinch began to sit on the top step of the porch and talk to the dog. From his seat, there was no way he would have missed seeing the sign, but the sign stayed.

One day, I heard the Grinch in his shed sawing, sanding, and hammering. Then it was quiet.

I was outside playing when I saw the Grinch leave his house and saw him return with a can of paint and some supplies in a bag from the local hardware store. He again disappeared into his shed. I went back inside my house to get warm and didn’t see when he came out.

In the morning the old man stepped onto his porch and tossed the dog something. The dog caught it, lay down, and began to gnaw. It was a bone. The Grinch walked to his shed and I watched as he erected a spotlight in his front yard, running an electric cord into his basement. He had the whole town talking. The question on everyone’s mind, “What was going on?”

At dusk, he carried a large object out of his shed and placed it beside the Grinch sign. When he turned on the spotlight and I could see he’d made a wooden six foot high Grinch to stand by the sign. It was his turn to laugh surprising the town people surprised by turning their joke into his.