Page 203 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
She froze and waited, and when the coast was clear,
she ascended the house to remove all the Christmas cheer.
She snaked and she snuck with a smirk quite unpleasant
around the whole roof and took every twinkle light present.
With a pop and a flop, the wires tumbled to the ground.
Payback was served and joy she quickly found.
Then she slunk to the porch. She took every bulb and every light.
She took every Christmas decoration purely out of spite.
She laughed. “Oh how stupid is he going to feel
when he sees what I took, what I was able to steal.”
She took every decoration, and she took it in a flash,
and then walked up to the garage and threw it in the trash.
“In the morning when they wake, I know just what they’ll do.
The bro-hards on Whistler Lane will both cry boo-hoo.”
She dusted off her hands and headed back into the house,
while every Kringle in Kringletown slept, even the street mouse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Cole
With boxes full of lights, the boys drive home feeling bold,
ready to hang more lights despite the frigid cold.
But then they arrive, at a scene they weren’t expecting in the least.
It seems as though all the Christmas decorations have been fleeced.
“Do you think we shouldhave gone with the red?” I ask Max as we drive toward my house with a plan to update the light display. “Do you think it’s going to be too much green?”
Max shakes his head. “No, I think it will be cohesive, and then we’ll add the red to the porch to break it up. I think it’s genius.”
After we got in trouble with Mr. Maxheimer for being “nimrods,” we turned on the flashlight on Max’s phone, connected our blow-up mattresses so we could whisper, and we devised a plan on how to win the entire competition. Then this morning after a plentiful breakfast from Mrs. Maxheimer, we headed to the hardware store, grabbed some extra things we needed, and are now headed to the house.
“Genius. Okay, yeah.”
“Also, the light-up presents we got to line the front of the yard are a great addition.”
“I can’t believe your dad had those out in the barn and never said anything to us,” I say.
“Maybe he knew we had to make improvements, so he held out…” Max trails off as we turn onto Whistler Lane. “What…the…fuck?”
“What?” I ask, looking over at Max as he slows down his truck.
