excuse me! sir! excuse me! that suit is SACRED and if you intend on wearing it you must conduct yourself in a manner no less than jolly and full of cheer!
“Jolly?” Grinch echoes, a note of outrage creeping into his voice. As if he hadn’t worked his furry green TAIL off on this costume! “You don’t find me… jolly?”
He pushes his protective goggles up to scowl at her. In his hands is a nozzle, which is attached to a long, thick tube. Connected to the tube is a four-gallon metal container full of urea ice melt, strapped none-too-subtly to the Grinch’s back. His scowl deepens as he lowers his decidedly un-festive invention from its intended target — the snowman on some unsuspecting suburban family’s lawn.
“No idea where you might’ve gotten that idea from, but alright.”
