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The Chronicles of Genius Rabbit: Tale o da Grinch yo!

It was a sleazy old bar with a little space for seats and a lot of room for puke and trash. Nobody was at the bar. It was Christmas Eve. The place was limited to loners, stoners and drunk moaners. Our hero sat there with the supposed villain of the story-line.

Or was he?

“1832 yo! The place wasn't the same. The vintage cars and shit. Just like the movies.”

“The movies show what 1832 could have been like. It ain't the reverse man.” Genius snapped.


The two ordered for another glass of whiskey and another plate of bread crumbs.

“Just picture it man. I was the very same. Just a bit British.“ The Grinch quipped, rolling...something.


“British?”

“Bloody yes.”

“You never age?”

“Na.”

“But Santa did.”

“Yeah. The old hag.”

“Don't talk like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a...grinch?"

Genius, you walked into that one, eh?

The Grinch lit what he rolled. “I got tired o my job. I dint want to make bread. I wanted to do somethin' fo the poor yo. I saw em standing there with cigars in 'eir hands. Top hats. Old Bentleys...”

“Hey, what're you talking about man?” Genius, puzzled.

“Sorry man. This is the third one yo.”

He passed the components in his hand to Genius.

“I mean the poor folks. With the torn clothes, the no-clothes, the black faces and shit.” he paused, recalling. “I quit my job. Took this place on rent, where I made the clothes. I made these toys for the kids yo. The cigars for the men. And the broom for the women.”

“...I distributed 'em all. Anonymous. I was the good guy back then. But then one day, them people saw some ET shit.”

“Santa?”

“Yeah. Santa!”

"He was up there with those cool flying reindeers, shouting out loud. With a bag in 'is hand." The Grinch paused to take a sip of his whiskey. "THE GIFTS WERE MINE!! I don't know what the fuck he carried in that bag. They all thought that Santa was the man who made their lives happier and shit. Got them out of trouble and shit. So be it. He good, THEN I BAD!"

The Grinch was seriously drunk now.

"Sit down, Grinch." Genius tried to calm him down. He passed the components back. "It was a long time ago. This anger has made you into the Grinch you are now. I'm sure, you and Santa were both committed to make people happy."

He continued.

"Just remember that Christmas is about none of you. It's God's day. His birthday. All the gifts, all the happiness is given by him. The two of you, you're just messengers. Now, it is upon you to make perceptions change. Why is Santa good? Why is Grinch bad? Take efforts and work together in building this beautiful festival."

Genius wore his cap and paid the bill. "You take care."

And he was out.

Not what you expected the story to be? Nor did I. This is how it is. Christmas. Why do you think all the stories, all the movies, all the carols end like this? The ending's not upon us. Unless there's something happening after the narrator has his last thought narrated. Have a Merry Christmas and look forward to a very Happy New Year.

As Genius rode back to his shack, all ready to enjoy his peaceful Christmas, the Grinch sat there at the bar. With a wide grin, and narrow eyes.

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