Horrid Henry's Christmas Read Online Free Page B

Terminator Gladiator at the top where he belonged.

    Perfect, thought Horrid Henry, jumping off the chair and step ping back to admire his work. Absolutely perfect. Thanks to me this is the best tree ever.

    There was a terrible creaking sound. Then another. Then suddenly . . .

    The Christmas tree toppled over.
    Horrid Henry’s heart stopped.
    Upstairs he could hear Mom and Dad stirring.
    “Hey! Who’s down there?” shouted Dad.
    RUN!!! thought Horrid Henry. Run for your life!!
    Horrid Henry ran like he had never run before, up the stairs to his room before Mom and Dad could catch him. Oh please let him get there in time. His parents’ bedroom door opened just as Henry dashed inside his room. He’d made it. He was safe.
    The bucket of water spilled all over him.

    Horrid Henry fell over the jump rope.

    jangled the bells.
    belched the whoopee cushions.
    “What is going on in here?” shrieked Mom, glaring.
    “Nothing,” said Horrid Henry, as he lay sprawled on the floor soaking wet and tangled up in threads and wires and rope. “I heard a noise downstairs so I got up to check,” he added innocently.
    “Tree’s fallen over,” called Dad. “Must have been overloaded. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.”
    “Get back to bed, Henry,” said Mom wearily. “And don’t touch your stocking till morning.”

    Henry looked. And gasped. His stocking was stuffed and bulging. That mean old sneak, thought Horrid Henry indignantly. How did he do it? How had he escaped the traps?
    Watch out Santa Claus, thought Horrid Henry. I’ll get you next year.

4
HORRID HENRY’S CHRISTMAS LUNCH

December 25th
(at last!)
    “Oh, handkerchiefs, just what I wanted,” said Perfect Peter. “Thank you
so
much.”
    “Not handkerchiefs
again
,” moaned Horrid Henry, throwing the hankies aside and ripping the paper off the next present in his pile.
    “Don’t tear the wrapping paper!” squeaked Perfect Peter.
    Horrid Henry ripped open the present and groaned.
    Yuck (a pen, pencil, and ruler). Yuck (a dictionary). Yuck (gloves). OK ($15—should have been a lot more). Eeew (a pink bow tie from Aunt Ruby). Eeew (mints). Yum (huge tin of chocolates). Good (five more knights for his army). Very good (a subscription to Gross-Out Fan Club) …
    And (very very good) a Terminator Gladiator trident …and . . .
    And …where was the rest?
    “Is that it?” shrieked Henry.
    “You haven’t opened my present, Henry,” said Peter. “I hope you like it.”
    Horrid Henry tore off the wrapping. It was a Manners with Maggie calendar.
    “Ugh, gross,” said Henry. “No thank you.”
    “Henry!” said Mom. “That’s no way to receive a present.”
    “I don’t care,” moaned Horrid Henry. “Where’s my Zapatron Hip-Hop dinosaur? And where’s the rest of the Terminator Gladiator fighting kit? I wanted everything, not just the trident.”
    “Maybe next year,” said Mom.
    “But I want it now!” howled Henry.
    “Henry, you know that ‘I want doesn’t get’,” said Peter. “Isn’t that right, Mom?”
    “It certainly is,” said Mom. “And I haven’t heard you say thank you, Henry.”
    Horrid Henry glared at Peter and sprang. He was a hornet stinging a worm to death.

    “WAAAAAAH!” wailed Peter.
    “Henry! Stop it or—”

    “They’re here!” shouted Horrid Henry, leaping up and abandoning his prey. “That means more presents!”
    “Wait, Henry,” said Mom.
    But too late. Henry raced to the door and flung it open.
    There stood Granny and Grandpa, Prissy Polly, Pimply Paul, and Vomiting Vera.
    “Gimme my presents!” he shrieked, snatching a bag of brightly wrapped gifts out of Granny’s hand and spilling them on the floor. Now, where were the ones with his name on them?
    “Merry Christmas, everyone,” said Mom brightly. “Henry, don’t be rude.”
    “I’m not being rude,” said Henry. “I just want my presents. Great, money!” said Henry, beaming. “Thanks, Granny! But couldn’t you add a few dollars