How the Griffon Stole Christmas

by Lachlan Templar

Rating: everyone
Tags: Gilda, Crossover, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1395

A crossover between Dr. Seuss's "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and My Little Pony, where Gilda is the Grinch.

Published 2011-12-12 04:05:00 UTC
Last updated 2011-12-12 04:05:00 UTC

How the Griffon Stole Christmas

How The Griffon Stole Christmas

Every Pony
Down in Ponyville
Liked Christmas a lot. . .

But Gilda,
Who lived just North of Ponyville,
Did NOT!

Gilda hated Christmas!
The whole Christmas season!
Now, please don't ask why.
No pony quite knows the reason.

It could be her head
wasn't screwed on just right.
It could be, perhaps,
that she never got a party invite.

But I think that the most likely
reason of all
May have been that her heart
was two sizes too small.

But
Whatever the reason,
Her heart or her parties,
She stood there on Christmas Eve,
hating the ponies.

Staring down from her cave
with a sour, griffon frown
At the warm lighted windows
below in their town.

For she knew every pony
down in Ponyville beneath
Was busy now, hanging
a mistletoe wreath.

"And they're hanging their stockings!"
she snarled with a sneer.
"Tomorrow is Christmas!
It's practically here!"

Then she growled, with her eagle
claws nervously drumming,
"I MUST find some way to stop
Christmas from coming!"

For,
Tomorrow she knew. . .

. . .All the pony colts and fillies
Would wake bright and early.
They'd rush for their toys!

And then! Oh, the noise!
Oh, the Noise! Noise!
Noise! Noise!

That's one thing she hated!
The NOISE! NOISE!
NOISE! NOISE!

Then the ponies, young and old,
would sit down to a feast.
And they'd feast!
And they'd feast!

And they'd FEAST!

FEAST!

FEAST!

FEAST!

They would feast
on pony-pudding,
and rare grass and yeast
Which was something Gilda couldn't stand in the least!

And THEN
They'd do something
She liked least of all!

Every pony down in Ponyville,
the tall and the small,
Would stand close together,
with Christmas bells ringing.
They'd stand hoof-in-hoof.
And the ponies would start singing!

They'd sing! And they'd sing!
AND they'd SING! SING! SING! SING!

And the more Gilda thought
of this pony-Christmas-Sing,
The more Gilda thought,
"I must stop this whole thing!

Why, for fifty-three years
I've put up with it now!
I MUST stop this Christmas from coming!

. . . But HOW?

Then she got an idea!
An awful idea!
GILDA
GOT A WONDERFUL,
AWFUL IDEA!

"I know just what to do!
Gilda laughed
in her throat.
And she made a quick Santy Claus
hat and a coat.

And she chuckled,
and chuckled,
"What a great
griffon trick!
With this coat
and this hat,
I look just like
Saint Nick!"

"All I need is a reindeer . . ."
Gilda looked around.
But, since reindeer are scarce,
there was none to be found.

Did that stop the old griffon . . . ?
"No!" Gilda simply said,
"If I can't find a reindeer,
I'll make one instead!"

So she called her tortoise, Tank.
Then she took some red thread
And she tied a big horn
on top of his head.

THEN
She loaded some bags
And some old empty sacks that stank
On a ramshackle sleigh
And she hitched up old Tank.

Then Gilda said,
"Giddap!"
And the sleigh started down
Towards the homes where the ponies
Lay a-snooze in their town.

All their windows were dark.
Quiet snow filled the air.
All the ponies were dreaming sweet dreams without care
When she came to the first
little house on the square.

"This is stop number one,"
the old Gilda Claus hissed
And she climbed to the roof,
empty bags in her fist.

Then she slid down the chimney.
A rather tight pinch which caused her to stiffen.
But, if Santa could do it,
then so could the griffon.

She got stuck only once,
for a moment or two.
Then she stuck her head out
of the fireplace flue.

Where the little pony stockings
all hung in a row.
"These stockings," she grinned,
"are the first things to go!"

Then she slithered and slunk,
with a smile most unpleasant,
Around the whole room,
and she took every present!

Party cannon! And bicycles!
Roller skates! Drums!
Checkerboards! Tricycles!
Popcorn! And plums!

And she stuffed them in bags.
Then Gilda, very nimbly,
Stuffed all the bags,
one by one, up the chimney!

Then she slunk to the icebox.
She took the ponies feast!
She took the pony-pudding!
She took the grass and yeast!

She cleaned out that icebox
as quick as a lightning.
Why, that griffon even took
their last can of cupcake icing!

Then she stuffed all the food
up the chimney with glee.
"And NOW!" grinned Gilda,
"I will stuff up the tree!"

And Gilda grabbed the tree,
and she started to shove
When she heard a small sound
like the coo of a dove.

She turned around fast,
and she saw a small pony!
Filly Scootaloo,
who was not more than two.

Gilda had been caught
by this tiny pony daughter
Who'd got out of bed
for a cup of cold water.

She stared at the griffon
and she said, "Santy Claus, why,
Why are you taking our
Christmas tree? WHY?"

But, you know, that old Gilda
was so smart and so slick
She thought up a lie,
and she thought it up quick!

"Why, my sweet little tot,"
the fake Santy Claus lied,
"There's a light on this tree
that won't light on one side.

"So I'm taking it home
to my workshop, my dear.
I'll fix it up there.
Then I'll bring it back here."

And her fib fooled the filly.
Then she patted her head
And she got her a drink
and she sent her to bed.

And when Scootaloo
went to bed with her cup,
SHE went to the chimney
and stuffed the tree up!

Then the last thing she took
Was the log for their fire!

Then she went up the chimney,
herself, the old liar.
On their walls she left nothing
but hooks and some wire.

And the one speck of food
That she left in the house
Was a crumb that was
even too small for a mouse.

Then
She did the same thing
To the other ponies' houses.

Leaving crumbs
Much too small
For the other ponies' mouses!

It was a quarter past dawn . . .
All the ponies, still a-bed,
All the ponies, still a-snooze
When she packed up her sled,

Packed it up with their presents!
The ribbons! The wrappings!
The tags! And the tinsel!
The trimmings! The trappings!

Three thousand feet up!
Up the side of Mt. Crumpit,
She rode with her load
to the tiptop to dump it!

"Pooh-Pooh to the ponies!"
she was griff-ish-ly humming.
"They're finding out now
that no Christmas is coming!"

"They're just waking up!
I know just what they'll do!
Their mouths will hang open
a minute or two
Then the ponies
down in Ponyville
will all let out their cries!

"That's a noise," grinned Gilda,
"That I simply MUST hear!"
So she paused. And Gilda
put her claw to her ear.

And she did hear a sound
rising over the snow.
It started low.
Then it started to grow . . .

But the sound wasn't sad!
Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn't be so!
But it WAS merry!
VERY!

She stared down at Ponyville!
The griffon popped her eyes!
Then she shook!
What she saw was
a shocking surprise!

Every pony down in Ponyville,
the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without
any presents at all!

He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming!
IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And Gilda, with her griffon-feet
ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling:
"How could it be so?

"It came without ribbons!
It came without tags!
It came without packages,
boxes or bags!"

And she puzzled three hours,
till her puzzler was sore.
Then Gilda thought
of something
she hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," she thought,
"doesn't come from a store.
Maybe Christmas . . .

perhaps . . .

means a little bit more!"

And what happened then . . . ?
Well . . . in Ponyville they say
That the griffon's small heart
Grew three sizes that day!

And the minute her heart
didn't feel so tight,
She whizzed with her load
through the bright morning light

And she brought back the toys!
And the food for the feast!
And she...

. . . SHE HERSELF . . . !
Gilda carved

the cake feast!