Horrid Henry's Christmas Read Online Free Page A

green goo. Mom and Dad snatching the Goo-Shooter and wrecking all his plans and throwing out all his presents and banning him from TV forever …hmmm. His fingers felt a little less itchy.
    Henry lowered his Goo-Shooter. The bucket of water wobbled above the door.
    Yikes! What if Mom and Dad stepped into his Santa traps? All his hard work— ruined.
    “I’m awake,” snarled Henry.
    The shapes stepped back. The water stopped wobbling.
    “Go to sleep!” hissed Mom.
    “Go to sleep!” hissed Dad.
    “What are you doing here?” demanded Henry.
    “Checking on you,” said Mom. “Now go to sleep or Santa Claus will never come.”
    He’d better, thought Henry.
    Horrid Henry woke with a jolt.
AAARRGGH! He’d fallen asleep. How could he? Panting and gasping Henry switched on the light. Phew. His traps were intact. His stocking was empty. Santa Claus hadn’t been yet.
    Wow, was that lucky. That was incredibly lucky. Henry lay back, his heart pounding.
    And then Horrid Henry had a terrible thought.
    What if Santa Claus had decided to be spiteful and
avoid
Henry’s bedroom this year? Or what if he’d played a sneaky trick on Henry and filled a stocking
downstairs
instead?
    Nah. No way.
    But wait. When Santa Claus came to Rude Ralph’s house he always filled the stockings downstairs. Now Henry came to think of it, Moody Margaret always left her stocking downstairs too, hanging from the fireplace, not from the end of her bed, like Henry did.
    Horrid Henry looked at the clock. It was past midnight. Mom and Dad had forbidden him to go downstairs till morning, on pain of having all his presents taken away and no TV all day.
    But this was an emergency. He’d creep downstairs, take a quick peek to make sure he hadn’t missed Santa Claus, then be back in bed in a jiffy.
    No one will ever know, thought Horrid Henry.
    Henry tiptoed around the whoopee cushions, leaped over the crisscross threads, stepped over the jump rope and carefully squeezed through his door so as not to disturb the bucket of water. Then he crept downstairs.

    Horrid Henry shone his flashlight over the living room. Santa Claus hadn’t been. The room was exactly as he’d left it that evening.
    Except for one thing. Henry’s light illuminated the Christmas tree, heavy with chocolate Santas and chocolate bells and chocolate reindeer. Mom and Dad must have hung them on the tree after he’d gone to bed.
    Horrid Henry looked at the chocolates cluttering up the Christmas tree. Shame, thought Horrid Henry, the way those chocolates spoil the view of all those lovely decorations. You could barely see the baubles and tinsel he and Peter had worked so hard to put on.

    “Hi, Henry,” said the chocolate Santas.
    “Don’t you want to eat us?”
    “Go on, Henry,” said the chocolate bells. “You know you want to.”
    “What are you waiting for, Henry?” urged the chocolate reindeer.
    What indeed? After all, it
was
Christmas.
    Henry took a chocolate Santa or three from the side, and then another two from the back. Mmm, boy, was that great chocolate, he thought, stuffing them into his mouth.
    Oops. Now the chocolate Santas looked a little unbalanced.
    Better take a few from the front and from the other side, to even it up, thought Henry. Then no one will notice there are a few chocolates missing.
    Henry gobbled and gorged and guzzled. Wow, were those chocolates yummy!!!
    The tree looks a bit bare, thought Henry a little while later. Mom had such eagle eyes she might notice that a few— well, all—of the chocolates were missing. He’d better hide all those gaps with a few extra baubles. And, while he was improving the tree, he could swap that stupid fairy for Terminator Gladiator.

    Henry piled extra decorations onto the branches. Soon the Christmas tree was so covered in baubles and tinsel there was barely a hint of green. No one would notice the missing chocolates. Then Henry stood on a chair, dumped the fairy, and, standing on his tippy-tippy toes, hung