Horrid Henry's Christmas Read Online Free

X’s appeared on every page, to help you-know-who remember all the toys he absolutely had to have. Oh please, let everything he wanted leap from its pages and into Santa’s sack. After all, what could be better than looking at a huge glittering stack of presents on Christmas morning, and knowing that they were all for you?
    Oh please let this be the year when he finally got everything he wanted!
    His letter to Santa Claus couldn’t have been clearer.
    Dear Santa Claus,
    I want loads and loads and loads of cash, to make up for the puny amount you put in my stocking last year. And a Robomatic Supersonic Space Howler Deluxe plus attachments would be great too. I have asked for this before, you know!!! And the Terminator Gladiator fighting kit. I need lots more DayGlo slime and comics and a Mutant Max poster and the new Zapatron Hip-Hop Dinosaur. This is your last chance.
    Henry
    P.S. Oranges are NOT presents!!!!!
P.P.S. Peter asked me to tell you to give me all his presents as he doesn’t want any.
    How hard could it be for Santa Claus to get this right? He’d asked for the Space Howler last year, and it never arrived. Instead, Henry got …vests. And handkerchiefs. And books. And clothes. And a—bleuccccck—jigsaw puzzle and a jump rope and a tiny Waterblaster instead of the mega-sized one he’d specified. Yuck! Santa Claus obviously needed Henry’s help.
    Santa Claus is getting old and doddery, thought Henry. Maybe he hasn’t got my letters. Maybe he’s lost his reading glasses. Or—what a horrible thought—maybe he was delivering Henry’s presents by mistake to some other Henry. Eeeek! Some yucky, undeserving Henry was probably right now this minute playing with Henry’s Terminator Gladiator sword, shield, axe, and trident. And enjoying his Intergalactic Samurai Gorillas. It was so unfair!

    And then suddenly Henry had a brilliant, spectacular idea. Why had he never thought of this before? All his present problems would be over. Presents were far too important to leave to Santa Claus. Since he couldn’t be trusted to bring the right gifts, Horrid Henry had no choice. He would have to ambush Santa Claus.
    Yes!
    He’d hold Santa Claus hostage with his Goo-Shooter, while he rummaged in his present sack for all the loot he was owed. Maybe Henry would keep it all. Now
that
would be fair.
    Let’s see, thought Horrid Henry. Santa Claus was bound to be a slippery character, so he’d need to booby-trap his bedroom. When you-know-who sneaked in to fill his stocking at the end of the bed, Henry could leap up and nab him. Santa Claus had a lot of explaining to do for all those years of stockings filled with oranges and walnuts instead of chocolate and cold hard cash.
    So, how best to capture him?
    Henry considered.
    A bucket of water above the door.
    A jump rope stretched tight across the entrance, guaranteed to trip up intruders.
    A web of string crisscrossed from bedpost to door and threaded with bells to ensnare nighttime visitors.
    And let’s not forget strategically scattered whoopee cushions.
    His plan was foolproof.

    Loot, here I come, thought Horrid Henry.
    Horrid Henry sat up in bed, his Goo-Shooter aimed at the half-open door where a bucket of water balanced. All his traps were laid. No one was getting in without Henry knowing about it. Any minute now, he’d catch Santa Claus and make him pay up.
    Henry waited. And waited. And waited. His eyes started to feel heavy and he closed them for a moment.
    There was a rustling at Henry’s door. Oh my gosh, this was it! Henry lay down and pretended to be asleep.

    Horrid Henry reached for his GooShooter.
    A huge shape loomed in the doorway.
    Henry braced himself to attack.
    “Doesn’t he look sweet when he’s asleep?” whispered the shape.
    “What a little snugglechops,” whispered another.
    Sweet? Snugglechops?
    Horrid Henry’s fingers itched to let Mom and Dad have it with both barrels.

    Henry could see it now. Mom covered in green goo. Dad covered in