The Christmas Toy Factory Read online

  rich, rich, rich!” Grandfather’s voice echoed in

  my head. “Get working, Nephew!”

  “Sorry, Petunia,” I muttered as she turned

  and walked out.

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  After Petunia left, I tried concentrating

  on my work. I didn’t even look out at the

  falling snow

  . I was interrupted by the sound

  of rodents giggling outside my door.

  Suddenly, the door burst open. It was all

  of my coworkers.

  “

  Merry Christmas to you, Merry Christmas to

  you, Merry Christmas, dear Geronimo!

  ”

  they squeaked at the top of their

  lungs.

  I was feeling grumpier and

  grumpier. How was I supposed

  to get any work done?

  Before I had

  a chance to

  I DON’T HAVE TIME

  TO CELEBRATE!

  complain, Shorty Tao grabbed my

  paw. She dragged me away from

  my desk. “Want to help us decorate

  the Christmas tree?” she asked.

  “How about a little cheesecake?” Ratsy

  suggested.

  “Or a cup of hot cheddar?”

  Patty added.

  “Or you could help me hang up the

  mistletoe,” Gigi said, winking.

  I was beginning to get a rat-sized

  headache. I didn’t have time for

  Christmas this year. I had too much

  work to do!

  Right then, everyone broke into

  an ear-piercing chorus of “Jingle

  Bells.” Now even my fur had a

  pounding headache.

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  SHORTY TAO

  Ratsy O’Shea

  Patty Plumprat

  GIGI GOGO

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  E

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  “Enoooough!” I shrieked.

  A deep silence

  fell

  over the room. Everyone

  stared at me, stunned.

  “Ahem, I just want everyone to um, go

  back to work,” I muttered.

  Puzzled, Mouseanna waved a

  photo under my nose. It was a

  picture of the CHRISTMAS

  PARTY

  we had last year.

  “But, last year, you said you

  wished we could have a Christmas party

  every day!” she squeaked.

  Last year's party

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  I coughed and thought of Grandfather

  William. “Yes, well, I changed my mind,” I

  mumbled as I slunk back to my office.

  I felt awful. But I had a ton of work to do.

  I sat at my desk and started to read a

  manuscript. Outside, it was quiet. In

  fact, the whole place was quieter

  than the Whispering Whiskers

  Cemetery .

  A horrible thought

  occurred to me:Whatif my coworkers

  were so mad that they were waiting behind

  my office door? When I opened it, they’d

  throw moldy mozzarella balls at me!

  I peeked out of the door. Everyone was

  seated at their desks, working silently.

  I felt much better. Well, not that much

  better. Everyone did look kind of sad. But at

  least I wasn’t going to get hit with rotten cheese.

  29

  30

  It was getting later and later and snowier

  and snowier.

  I was still up to my snout in work!

  Just then, my cousin Trap called.

  “Hey, Gerry Berry, what are you still doing

  in the office? Get your tail out here! We’re

  all waiting for you at the family’s Christmas

  Eve dinner!” he yelled.

  I shook my head. For some

  reason, I couldn’t think of

  anything but work, work, work.

  “I don’t have time for dinners.

  I don’t have time for Christmas.

  I’m just too busy,” I muttered, thinking of

  Grandfather William taking over the paper.

  I DON’T HAVE TIME

  FOR CHRISTMAS!

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  My sister, Thea, grabbed the phone.

  “Geronimo, don’t give me any of

  your lame excuses!” she ordered.

  Aunt Sweetfur got on the phone

  next. “My dear nephew, Christmas

  won’t be the same without

  YOU!” she said, sighing.

  But I had already made

  up my mind. I had to

  finish my work, no
r />   matter what!

  32

  The snowy night went on.

  I worked and worked and

  worked until I heard the town’s

  clock strike midnight.

  I was tired. So very tired. I

  wanted to go home and snuggle

  up in my bed. But it was like

  there was a little workaholic

  mouse inside my head. I knew

  if I stopped I would never finish

  anything!

  DING, DONG

  Hours later, I finally finished. Now the

  only thing left for me to do was to write a

  story on the real spirit of Christmas to be

  published in the newspaper the next day.

  To get some inspiration, I leafed through a

  book titled The Story of Santa Claus! But I

  was so tired that I fell asleep with my snout

  right in the middle of the book. Snore, snore,

  snore . . .

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  SNORE

  ccording to ancient

  legend, Santa Claus lives

  in Rovaniemi, Finland.

  His house, however, is located

  in a secret and very isolated

  place called Korvatunturi. In

  Finnish, Korvatunturi means

  “Ear Mountain” because it’s

  shaped like two big bunny ears.

  It’s from there that Santa can

  hear everything that all the

  children in the world say. That’s

  how he decides which children deserve his gifts!

  The elves are Santa’s helpers. They make the gifts that

  he distributes from his famous sled, pulled by his nine

  faithful reindeer. Here they are! Each reindeer has its

  own name and personality.

  A

  The Story of

  Santa Claus!

  Captain of the

  reindeer team

  The red-nosed

  reindeer

  Once flew so high, he

  almost collided with a

  comet!

  His antlers always

  point north!

  Is Prancer’s twin

  sister

  Like her twin, loves to

  dance

  Is the most graceful

  and acrobatic of all

  the reindeer

  Has been married to

  Vixen for more than

  two hundred years

  DASHER

  RUDOLPH

  BLITZEN

  COMET

  DANCER

  PRANCER

  VIXEN

  CUPID

  Believes she should be

  captain of the reindeer

  team

  DONDER

  36

  KNOCK! KNOCK!

  I don’t know how long I had been sleeping,

  but I woke up mid-snore. There was

  somebody knocking at my window. Knock,

  Knock!A weird little face was squashed

  against the windowpane.

  37

  “Moldy mozzarella!” I squeaked. I was so

  frightened all of my fur stood at attention.

  A shrill little voice yelled back, “Hey there,

  open up. I’ve got something to tell you!”

  My teeth began chattering so hard I

  probably had permanent tooth damage. I’d

  NEVER be able to eat hard cheese again.

  No more supersharp cheddar. No more Swiss.

  I was still thinking about hard cheeses

  when a chubby elf with a tiny beard tumbled

  in through the fireplace. Moldy mozzarella!

  That’s what I get for not opening the window,

  I guess.

  “Are you the magazine mouse?” he

  asked, looking me up and down suspiciously.

  I blinked. “Well, actually, I run a

  newspaper,” I said. “My name is Stilton,

  Geronimo Stilton.”

  “Yeah, yeah, same thing,” the elf muttered.

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  39

  He told me his name was Ding-Dong.

  Santa Claus had sent him to find me. “He

  wants you to come and visit,” the elf

  explained.

  I was shocked. Why would Santa

  Claus

  want to see me? Ding-Dong didn’t

  know, either.

  But how could I say no to Santa?

  40

  I’M TOO YOUNG

  TO DIE!

  The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the

  back of a sleigh pulled by nine prancing

  reindeer.

  “Hit it, guys!” Ding-Dong shouted. Instantly,

  the reindeer took off into the sky!

  Up, up, up we flew.

  Clouds

  swir

  l

  ed

  around

  us. I held on for dear

  life. Did I mention I’m AFRAID of flying?

  Meanwhile, Ding-Dong was humming

  happily beside me. “Hey, Magazine Mouse,

  isn’t this sled awesome?” he shrieked, zipping

  through the sky. Then, before I could squeak,

  “NO! STOP! I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!” he

  started showing me all of the flying tricks

  Yoohoooo!

  HELP!

  Yoohoooo!

  HELP!

  Yoohoooo!

  HELP!

  Yoohoooo!

  HELP!

  42

  he could do. The sled dipped and soared up

  and down through the sky.

  My stomach dropped. My fur turned the

  color of moldy cheese.

  “D-d-d-ing-D-d-d-ong!” I stammered. “I

  think I’m g-g-g-oing to b-b-be sick!”

  The elf didn’t answer. He was too busy

  guiding the reindeer to do somersaults in the

  sky. “Yahoo!” he yelled, picking up SPEED.

  What was that old saying? “Never talk to a

  strange elf”? Especially an elf with a name

  like Ding-Dong.

  I was still scolding myself when I noticed

  the air had suddenly grown colder. It was

  downright

  whisker-freezing!

  I opened my eyes. What a magical sight.

  Snow and

  ICICLE

  -covered trees glistened

  like jewels in the moonlight.

  We had reached the North Pole.

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  1. SANTA’S WORKSHOP

  2. O

  RDER DEPARTMENT

  3. C

  REATIVE LAB

  4. S

  ANTA’S OFFICE

  5. S

  LED - LOADING DOCK

  6. R

  EINDEER BARN

  7. S

  LED PARKING SPOT

  8. SLED LANDING STRIP

  9. S

  ANTA’S HOUSE

  10. E

  LVES’ VILLAGE

  11. G

  IFT-PACKAGING CENTER
/>
  12. G

  IFT WAREHOUSE

  13. P

  OST OFFICE

  14. C

  OMPLAINT DEPARTMENT

  46

  Seconds later, Ding-Dong pulled the sled

  to a screeching halt in front of a log cabin.

  “This is it, Magazine Mouse. This is

  where Santa lives,” the elf said. He walked

  up to the door and rang the bell. “It’s me,

  Ding-Dong!” he announced. “I’ve brought

  the magazine mouse!”

  I coughed. “Well, ahem, actually, sir, I run a

  newspaper. My name is Stilton, Geronimo

  Stilton

  ,” I corrected

  him.

  A

  booming

  voice rang out

  from inside. “Of

  course. Come on

  OF COURSE I’M

  S

  ANTA CLAUS!

  47

  in, dear Geronimo, I’ve been waiting for

  you!” it said.

  I entered hesitantly. A man with

  a big round belly and a

  FLUFFY

  white beard sat

  in a comfy armchair. He wore

  a long,

  fuzzy

  red robe and

  slippers with the initials S.C.

  “Would you be, I mean, that is, are you him?

  Are you Santa Claus?” I asked, surprised.

  When he laughed, his belly shook like a

  bowlful of jelly. “Ho, ho, ho! Of

  course I’m Santa Claus!” he said in a deep,

  booming voice. “Who did you think I was?

  The Easter Bunny?”

  Mrs. Claus,

  Santa's wife

  49

  Just then, a woman’s voice called out

  sternly, “OK, that’s enough now! Go back to

  sleep, or you’ll never GET WELL!”

  A minute later, a chubby woman with white

  hair and sky-blue eyes marched into the room.

  Can you guess who she was? Yep — Mrs.

  Claus

  , Santa’s wife.

  When she saw me, she stopped and stared.

  I smiled. “Mrs. Claus, my name is Stilton,

  Geronimo Stilton,” I said.

  Suddenly, she broke into a wide

  grin. “Oh, Geronimo.” She beamed.

  “We’ve been waiting for you.

  Please sit down. Can I get you

  anything? HOT CHOCOLATE?

  Cookies? A cheddar-cheese log?” She

  A BIT OF A PICKLE