The Christmas Toy Factory Read online

  Dear mouse friends,

  Welcome to the world of

  THE RODENT’S GAZETTE

  EDITORIAL STAFF

  Geronimo Stilton

  A learned and brainy

  mouse; editor of

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Thea Stilton

  Geronimo’s sister and

  special correspondent at

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Trap Stilton

  An awful joker;

  Geronimo’s cousin and

  owner of the store

  Cheap Junk for Less

  Benjamin Stilton

  Asweet and loving

  nine-year-old mouse;

  Geronimo’s favorite

  nephew

  New York Toronto London Auckland Sydney

  Mexico City New Delhi Hong Kong Buenos Aires

  Scholastic Inc.

  THE CHRISTMAS

  TOY FACTORY

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced

  into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by

  any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter

  invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For

  information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,

  Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail [email protected],

  www.atlantyca.com.

  eISBN 978-0-545-39239-6

  Copyright © 2006 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154

  Milan, Italy.

  International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2006 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are

  copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights

  reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.

  www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered

  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark

  of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to

  www.stiltoncheese.com.

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title Il mistero degli elfi

  Cover by Giuseppe Ferrario

  Illustrations by Danilo Barozzi, Silvia Bigolin, and Frencesco Castelli,

  Christian Aliprandi (coloring), Archivio Piemme (maps)

  Graphics by Merenguita Gingermouse, Michela Battaglin, and Yuko Egusa

  Special thanks to Kathryn Cristaldi

  Translated by Lidia Morson Tramontozzi

  Interior design by Kay Petronio

  First printing, October 2006

  1

  It was a cold — I mean, freezing — I mean,

  teeth-chattering

  December

  morning. Snow

  covered New Mouse City, and I was trudging

  through it on my way to work. Brrr! My

  paws felt like two blocks of ice.

  I finally got to the office and . . . Oops, silly

  TWO BLOCKS OF ICE

  R

  O

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  MERRY

  CHRISTMAS

  me! I forgot to introduce myself. My name

  is Stilton, Geronimo Stilton. I am the

  publisher of The Rodent’s Gazette, the most

  famouse newspaper on Mouse Island.

  As I was saying, I got to the office and sat

  down at my desk. But before I could start

  working, a plump, furry mouse burst

  through the door. It was my grandfather,

  William Shortpaws, also known as

  Cheap Mouse Willy. Rats!

  Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandfather.

  But for the past month, he has been driving

  me up a clock!

  Grandfather is the founder

  of The Rodent’s Gazette. He

  started it a long, long time

  ago. He doesn’t work here

  anymore. Lately, he’s into

  golf. But he still loves to

  4

  6

  stop by the office and check up on things.

  Grandfather is one TOUGH, no-

  nonsense rodent. His favorite saying is:

  ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES A MOUSE RICH,

  RICH, RICH!

  Before I could even squeak, “Hello,”

  Grandfather William began thumping his

  paw on my messy desk. A stack of papers

  crashed to the floor. “Grandson, this desk is

  a disgrace! Have you been working or eating

  cheese bonbons? Remember, I built this

  company with my own bare paws. If you’re

  not careful, I’m going to come back and

  you’ll only be in charge of the water cooler!”

  he thundered, snapping my whiskers.

  I gulped.

  My

  worst nightmare is

  my grandfather coming back to head The

  Rodent’s Gazette. And lately, I was afraid he

  might do just that!

  7

  “I’m doing my best," I squeaked meekly.

  Grandfather rolled his eyes. “Tell it to the

  paw!” He smirked, holding one paw toward

  me. Then he pulled my whiskers again. And

  stormed out.

  I got right to work. What else could I do?

  I was worried. And besides, I don’t know a

  thing about water coolers.

  B

  o

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  !

  B

  o

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  !

  B

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  8

  It snowed every day for a whole

  week. I had to put snowshoes on my paws

  just to get to work! I would have loved to call

  in sick, but I couldn’t. What if Grandfather

  William found out? I’d be out of a job faster

  than you could say “egg and cheese on a

  cream-cheese bagel.” Instead, I got up every

  day at the crack of dawn and dragged myself

  to the office. There I read manuscripts, signed

  checks, and researched stories. I was so busy

  I DREAMED I WAS

  S

  LEEPING

  9

  I never even took a lunch break.

  I just nibbled on some stale

  cheddar crackers that I kept in

  a bowl on my desk.

  Finally, at midnight, I’d head

  home. I was so tired I’d fall into

  my bed and start snoring before

  my snout even hit the pillow. I

  dreamed I was sleeping.

  The days flew
by. I was

  exhausted! But I had to keep

  working. I couldn’t

  let Grandfather William take

  over the newspaper. I loved

  my job. Too bad it was taking

  over my life!

  I got up at

  dawn...

  ... worked until

  midnight...

  ... and fell into

  bed, asleep!

  Snore!

  On the morning of December 24, something

  AWFUL happened. I was at my office reading

  some mail that had piled up on my desk. I

  came across a letter from my dear, sweet

  nephew Benjamin.

  When I read it, I

  nearly jumped out

  of my fur. It was

  an invitation to his

  Christmas play. I

  twisted my tail up

  in a

  knot

  .

  “December 24!” I

  squeaked. “Moldy

  Dear Uncle Geronimo,

  Can you please, please, please

  come to my school’s Christmas

  play on December 24

  at 9:00

  A

  .

  M

  .?

  Can’t wait to see you!

  Love, Benjamin

  UNCLE GERONIMO,

  W

  HY DIDN’T

  Y

  OU COME?

  10

  mozzarella balls, that’s today!” I was so busy

  with work that I had completely forgotten.

  I ran to Benjamin’s school as fast as my

  paws could carry me. But it was no use.

  When I got there, the play was already over.

  Principal Sharp Whiskers shook his head

  when he saw me. “Mr. Stilton, why are you so

  late? Your nephew is crushed,” he scolded.

  Just then, I noticed a little mouse sitting

  all alone on the stage. It was Benjamin. He

  looked at me sadly.

  12

  “Uncle Geronimo, why didn’t you come?

  You always come to my Christmas play.

  And this year I had the best part. I was one

  of the fur trees,” he said.

  I felt awful. How could I have let my

  favorite nephew down? I grabbed his paw.

  “Come on, I’m going to buy you an early

  Christmas present,” I said, smiling.

  I took him to the best toy store in

  town, THE ROLLICKING

  RODENT

  . Have you ever been there?

  The place is huge! The salesmouse showed

  us a superscary cat mask and a squeak-

  controlled race car. But all Benjamin wanted

  was to go home. When we got there, he ran

  inside before I could even say good-bye.

  I felt lower than a sewer rat. I hung my

  head and headed back to the office.

  What else could I do? I had so much work to do!

  Pick whatever

  you like!

  14

  When I got back to the office, I slumped

  behind my desk. What a rotten day. How could

  I have forgotten my favorite nephew? If only

  I didn’t have so much work to do. Just then,

  I noticed the light on my answering machine

  blinking. I hit the MESSAGE button. “Why aren’t

  you at your desk, Geronimo?! Don’t make me

  come in there!” Grandfather William’s voice

  bellowed through the speaker.

  I cringed. Suddenly, I heard a knock at

  the door. Who could it be? A delivery mouse

  wheeled in a huge package. It was

  decorated with a shiny bow and some tiny

  yellow bananas.

  “I love bananas! B-a-n-a-n-a-s!”

  I DON’T HAVE TIME

  FOR SURPRISES!

  I looked around to see who had spoken, but

  didn’t see anyone.

  Then, a sooty gray rat sprang out from the

  package. He was wearing a long trench coat

  and matching hat.

  It was my friend Hercule Poirat,

  the famouse detective!

  He handed me a little PACKAGE. “Surprised,

  Stilton? I wanted to wish you a Merry

  Christmas!” he shouted.

  Before I could respond, I heard a knock

  at the window.

  W

  h

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  M

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  C

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  !

  16

  My eyes nearly popped out of my fur. A

  rodent was hanging in front of the window

  ledge. He had a crew cut and big, bulging

  muscles. He was DANGLING from a

  bungee cord.

  I opened the window with shaking paws.

  Was he some kind of spy? Was he from

  another planet?

  “Hey, fellow camper!” the rodent yelled.

  “Just dropping by to say happy holidays!”

  It was my friend Burt Burlyrat, otherwise

  known as B.B. We’d met at a survival boot

  camp deep in the jungle. Why would a

  scaredy-mouse like me go to boot camp?

  Well, that’s another story.

  Now my teeth began to chatter watching

  B.B. sway in the wind. I felt like I was about to

  have a nervous breakdown. Of course, Burt

  didn’t seem to mind that he was dangling

  forty feet in the

  air by a little

  CORD

  . Instead

  he just smiled at

  me and handed me

  a GIFT-WRAPPED

  PACKAGE

  .

  I was still worrying

  about B.B. when the

  door to my office

  slammed open again.

  "Merry Christmas

  to you, dear

  Geronimo!” a

  magnificent

  voice sang out.

  A beautiful

  rat wearing a

  scrumptious

  Happy holidays!

  cheddar perfume stood in the doorway

  holding a gift. She had amber-colored fur,

  twinkling eyes, and a dazzling smile. It was

  my dear friend Squeaky Star.

  Do you know Squeaky? She is a very

  famouse singer. Her , Under a Cheddar

  Moon, has been number one on the charts

  for almost a whole year. We met a while ago

  on top of Kilimanjaro during another one

  of my crazy adventures. I’ll have to tell you

  about it sometime.

  S

  q

  u

  e

  a

  k

  !

  Best wishes!

  CD

  “I see you already have guests,” Squeaky

  said, smiling. “Why don’t we all go out

  for a HOLIDAY lunch and you can open

  your CHRISTMAS GIFTS?”

  Cheese niblets! I hated to be a Scrooge.

  But what could I say? I had so much work

  to do! And what if Grandfather William

  decided to stop by? He’d have my tail!

  “Thanks,” I said.
“But I don’t have

  time. You’ll all have to go without me. I

  am too busy.”

  Disappointed, my friends headed out

  the door. Well, except for B.B. He lowered

  himself down to the sidewalk, instead.

  I tried to wave good-bye, but he never

  looked up.

  I felt like the worst friend in the

  whole world.

  20

  The snow kept falling, thicker and

  thicker.

  I had my snout buried deep in a pile of

  papers when my friend Petunia Pretty Paws

  stopped by. She is a fascinating mouse. I

  guess you could say I have had a huge

  crush

  on her forever. Too bad

  whenever I’m around her, I turn into a

  babbling, blundering fool. I stammer. I

  stutter. Sometimes I can’t even tell my left

  paw from my right.

  Petunia hugged me. “Geronimo!” she

  squeaked.

  “Yes, um, that’s me, Seronimo Gilton. I

  mean Geronimo Stilton,” I mumbled, grinning.

  I DON’T HAVE TIME

  TO TRAVEL!

  Petunia GIGGED and grabbed my paw.

  “I have the most exciting news! I’m headed

  off to Australia after Christmas to film a

  documentary about dolphins. Why don’t you

  come with me?” she squeaked. “Just think,

  right now the sun is shining in Australia.”

  I stared out the window. Oh, it would be so

  nice to get away. Then I looked at the stack

  of papers on my desk.

  “Ahem, thanks, but I’m really too busy to go,”

  I said.

  Petunia put her paws on her hips. “Yes, yes.

  I know you’re a very busy mouse, but there are some

  things in life that are more important than

  work, G,” she scolded.

  I chewed my whiskers. Maybe she was right.

  I was just about to say yes to Petunia

  when I noticed the big, framed picture of

  Grandfather William on the wall.

  His piercing black eyes seemed to be

  glaring at me. “All work and no play makes a mouse