[His answering machine greeting] Grinch: If you utter so
much as one syllable, I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND GUT YOU LIKE
A FISH! If you want to fax me, press the star key.
Cindy Lou Who: Santa, what's the meaning of Christmas? Grinch:
VENGEANCE! I mean... presents, I suppose.
Grinch: Oh, the Who-manity!
Grinch: That's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what
it's always been ABOUT! Gifts, gifts... gifts, gifts, gifts,
gifts, gifts! You wanna know what happens to yor gifts?
They all come to me. In your garbage. You see what I'm saying?
In your GARBAGE! I could hang myself with all the bad Christmas
neckties I found at the dump. And the avarice... THE AVARICE
NEVER ENDS! "I want golf clubs. I want diamonds. I want
a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored and sell it to
make glue!" Look, I don't wanna make waves, BUT this WHOLE
Christmas season is STUPID, STUPID, STUPID!
Grinch: Those Whos are hard to frazzle, Max. But, we did
our worst, and that's all that matters.
Grinch: Blast this Christmas music! It's joyful and triumphant.
Cindy Lou Who: Santa, don't forget the Grinch. I know he's
mean and hairy and smelly, and his hands are cold and clammy,
but I think he's kinda... sweet. Grinch: SWEET! ...You think
he's sweet? [Cindy runs upstairs] Cute kid, bad judge of
character.
Grinch: MAX! HELP ME... I'm FEELING!
Lou Lou Who: I'm glad he took our presents. You can't hurt
Christmas, Mr. Mayor, beacuse it isn't about the... the
gifts or the contest or the fancy lights. That's what Cindy's
been trying to tell everyone... and me. I don't need anything
more for Christmas than this right here: my family.
[a taxicab passes him by] Grinch: It's because I'm green
isn't it?!
Grinch: The nerve of those Whos! Inviting me down there--and
on such short notice! Even if I wanted to go my schedule
wouldn't allow it. Four o'clock, wallow in self pity; 4:30,
stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no
one. 5:30, jazzercize. 6:30, dinner with me. I can't cancel
that again! 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing; I'm booked!
Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9 I could still be
done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip
slowly into madness. But what would I wear?!
The Grinch: One man's toxic waste is another man's potpourri.
[Max barks] I don't know, it's some kind of soup.
Narrator: The Whos young and old would sit down to a Feast,
and they will feast, and they will feast. The Grinch: And
they'll feast, feast, feast, feast! They'll eat their Who-Pudding
and rare Who-Roast Beast. But there's something I just cannot
stand in least... Oh no! I'M SPEAKING IN RHYME!
