Inside a snowflake, like the one on your sleeve, there happened a story you must read to believe. Way up in the mountains, in the high range of Pontoos, lay the small town of Whoville: The home of the Whos. Ask any Who, and they'll have this to say: "There is no place like Whoville around Christmas Day." Every window was flocked, every lamppost was dressed, and the Whoville band marched in their Christmasy best. Arbor Day was fine, and Easter was pleasant, and every Saint Fizzin's day, they ate a Fizz pheasant. But every Who knew, from their twelve toes to their snout, they loved Christmas the most, without a single Who doubt. Yes, every Who down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch, who lived just north of Whoville, did not.

In her cavern, the Grinch sneered a big sneer, her lip curling in disgust as the sounds of Who children bustled through the snow. Their voices were loud, cheerful and proud. They had reached the top of Mount Crumpit, and had come upon her humble abode. By the sound of their voice over the intruder alarm that blared, she knew they were children. She glared.

The Grinch moved toward her food table and began to pick around at the food she had scavenged. It wasn't much, all food from the garbage, an endless array of scraps; meatless bones, fish skeletons, rotten fruits and the ends of Who loafs those Whos would throw out. She couldn't go to the store, no that would be a mistake. Those Whos would spot her and they'd begin to quake. The Grinch didn't want to be spotted, not after last time she ventured out. What a mistake that had been; one she'd never make again. She had learned her lesson not to trust any Who, in the end The Grinch had only suffered so much so soon. Though her heart did yearn for those she had grown close, in the mix of her emotions, the betrayal burned most.

Her fist curled around an onion as she heard her dog Max race up the steps in a hurried dash. The creaking of a door whistled through her cave and then came a sound she so often craved. It was the sound of Who screams. And that Grinch, she did smirk as she lurked.

When the intruders alarm cut off on the system she built, she called up to Max with not one ounce of guilt, "Well done, Max!" She heard him bark back as she began making her way up the stairs to join him. "Serves them right, those Yuletide-loving, sickly-sweet, nog-sucking cheer mongers! I really don't like them. No, I don't." She bit into the onion, the taste rather bitter, but the Grinch had grown tolerant over the years, never any tears.

The Grinch stepped out her door, the one Max had used to bring fear to the Whos, and she approached the edge where many a Who would glide the paths on their sledge. She had done that once with the one she did love, but now it was in her past, buried deep with all else cast from her heart.

The Grinch could see the bodies of her intruders tumbling down Mount Crumpit, their screams now distant whispers, though still pleasant to the ear. Then, a sudden idea came to the Grinch as she stood looking down upon them with a grin. "Max!"

The dog padded his way to her feet and she met his brown eyes.

"Fetch me my cloak," The Grinch ordered and the dog gave a nod before racing inside. When Max returned, she put her arms through the tattered sleeves and cast up her hood. "I've been much too tolerant of these Whovenile delinquents and their innocent, victimless pranks. If it's the Grinch they want to meet, then the Grinch they shall greet. Besides, we have been up here for far too long, Maxy. I think we could use a little... social interaction," she grinned.

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The Grinch hated Christmas. The whole Christmas season. Now, please, don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be that her head wasn't screwed on just right. Or it could be, perhaps, that her shoes were too tight. But the most likely reason of all, may have been that her heart was two sizes too small.

The streets of Whoville were merry and bright. Christmas could be seen from her left and on her right as the Grinch walked with her jaw clenched tight. Lights were strung up abroad the lampposts with care, wreaths and tinsel decorated Whoville, giving the town flare. Snow danced with effortless grace, every place touched with its white splender. It brought chills to the Whos, who sought the warm embrace of a fire. The joyful town stunk of Christmas and it's aromas; peppermint, cocoa, fresh pine and gingerbread. The stench made the Grinch nauseous, oh how felt she dread. She wished she was dead. If Odin had only killed her back then. But instead he had chose banishment for the Goddess. A cruel Hell full of endless Christmas cheer. And here she thought Odin had been her friend.

Max walked by her side, his held held up high, tail wagging in excitement for being out of their cave in some time. Five long years of solitude is what they had endured, yet The Grinch did not mind being confined in her cavern. In her cave there was only peace. There was quiet and there was her favorite blanket of fleece. She had her furry companion, Max, and a greasy feast from the trash. Some times, The Grinch wasn't even hungry and would only feast to fill that emptiness within. Oh how she wished her time in Whoville had not been so devastating. She missed sharing smiles, dancing and sleighing and skating with the woman she had been dating. The woman she had loved up until one awful day when they broke away with an act of betray.

Grins were cast toward the Grinch as she walked toward a horde of caroling Whos, who all stopped to say Merry Christmas to her, before walking past to spread more of their Christmas cheer to fellow Whos. She rolled her eyes and scoffed beneath her breath, "Yeah, you bet. Ho, ho, ho, and stuff."

Then, up ahead for all to see, a car crashed right into a Christmas tree. The noise was loud for all to hear, tires screeching and women screaming.

"Oh, my! Someone has vandalized that vehicle." She glanced down at Max. "You see, Max? The city is a dangerous place."

"Top of the day!" greeted a Policemen.

The Grinch, in her disguise, gave the Who a salute, smirking beneath her mask as she said, "Flatfoot."

She spotted a few children and could not help but smirk. The mischief fun-fizzled in her blood, flooding through her system and stirring much fun. Snatching a saw from the gift bag of a Who, she turned to greet the children, her mind loose a few screws. The girls looked sweet and innocent, but The Grinch, she did not care. She trust the saw into heir hands and patted their little heads.

"Here's a present for you," she said and the girls, why they grinned. "Be sure to run real fast with it now. Come on. Double time. Move!"

The Grinch threw her head back and let out a laugh as she watched the girls scurry away. With a clap of her hands, she looked down at Max and said, "Let's hurry." She didn't want to be in Whoville for too long. Just enough time to cause some mayhem before disappearing back to cave and away from them. But her plans did not work, for ahead there she walked. The woman she loved.

Adorned in a color as blue as the sky, Martha May Whovier, in all her grace, walked through the snow with her hair in a fine braid. Her friend, Noelle, was at her side, dressed in green and red with a smile quite wide. They were talking, smiles on their faces, and suddenly The Grinch had an urge to leave right then and there without any traces. But seeing her smile and that twinkle in her eye, why it stopped the Grinch short. Her heart forbade her to abort.

Then suddenly, they were walking towards her.

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a/n: Well there go! I hope everyone liked the chapter and appreciated my dreadful rhyming skills! I tried hard to put myself in Dr. Seuss's shoes and, I mean, I guess I didn't do too bad? Next chapter will be a flashback! There will many of them to show the history of what happened between the Grinch and the Whos, so be prepared.

Also, care to leave your prediction on what went down between Martha May and the Grinch and this betrayal that happened between them?