How the Grinch Stole a Man's Heart

The Concert that the Grinch will never forget.

The icey Whoville wind wafted through the window, before bouncing around my room and whistling though my ceiling high piles of rubbish. I glanced down at my coffee table to see that my ticket was gone and instead gliding on the whistling wind towards the window! I jumped from my recliner without a secound to spare; my hairy feet danced between the various old beer bottles and empty ice cream tubs that litter my living room floor. I snatched up the ticket between my thumb and index finger, just before it was whisped out the window and off the mountain side. I rub the ticket against my emerald green fur, I can't help but wonder how warm Michael Buble's hands would feel against my cheek, against my side... running down my back; I can't stop myself from thinking about where else he would touch me with his fleshy human hands.
"DING!" The clock struck six o'clock and I'm pulled back to reality with the wind still swaying around the room. I pull the concert ticket away from my now hot blushing face.
"Michael Buble featuring Michael Jackson concert starting 7pm"
Just one more hour till I can see, hear and smell Michael Buble's presence, but one more hour till I have to I have to listen to Micael Jackson, look upon Michael Jackson and smell Michael Jackson just the thought of him makes my fist clench tightly.

The whole of Whoville was buzzing with excitement for the up coming concert and I was no exception. The mile long queue snaked out into the car park and twisted out into the road, luckily for me I was much smarter than those Whovillians: I spent an extra $500 on a VIP ticket, backstage access and a front row seat to give me the absolute best experience. Those Whovillians don't know how to fully enjoy a Michael Buble concert. I was guided to my seat that sat centrally in front of the stage. As soon as my green hairy ass touched the cold plastic my heart started to beat exponentially fast! I thought I was having a stroke. The half an hour wait before the start of the show went in a heart beat. When the first stage light illuminated the crowd bellowed before Michael Buble stepped into the stage, his white teeth glimmered in the spot light like pealescent diamonds and his manure coloured hair whisped wildly in the sharp breeze that carried his scent directly to my nostrils; my senses lulled my mind into a dream that felt greater than heaven... Again I started to imagine how Michael Buble would move his fleshly hands across my body, I swear I could feel his finger tips swirling though my lush fur. I slowly opened my eyes again to lay them upon the sexy Buble again, only to see fire works explode off the stage. Buble emerged from the smoke as he sung; it no longer felt like I was somewhere greater than heaven, I WAS in a place that was better than heaven... until I glanced behind Buble and saw him. Shadowing Buble like an eclipse Michael Jackson creeped around trying to steal the show. He couldn't let Buble go one song with out a "HE-HE", a grunt or moon walking across the stage and worse of all he wore a diamond encrusted glove on his left hand that would catch the light off Michael Buble's spot light and gleam directly into my sensitive Grinch eyes.

The concert ended just as Jackson walked directly in front of my seat, blocking my view of Buble. Jackson grabbed his groin and stretched his gloved hand into the air holding the pose as the crowd applauded and jumped onto their feet; everyone except for me. The concert emptied out slowly, everyone still buzzing from the terrible show that they somehow enjoyed while I kept my green cheeks planted on the seat. Jackson ruined everything, my rage boiled up inside me and I looked down at my VIP pass and my eyes flickered to the large text at the bottom:
"Backstage Pass"
Suddenly I knew what to do to make Michael Jackson understand my rage.

I didn't knock before barging though Michael Jackson's dressing room door, he was sitting on a couch that was pressed against the back wall of his dressing room, staring at his left hand that was encased by his diamond encrusted white glove. When I slammed the door behind me he jolted up right and flashed his confused, scared eyes at me, his already ghostly white skin somehow went shades whiter. 
"Um, who are you?" Jackson said in his soft voice
"I'm the Grinch!" I replied in the most aggressive voice I could muster. "And you're the infamous Michael Jackson that ruined the Michael Buble concert!"
"Ruined it!" Jackson grasped "I'm sorry Mr Grinch but that's what we had planned, that's what Michael Buble told me to do!"
I didn't listen but instead started to walk towards him; I had a plan and that was to destroy that god-awful glove!
"What are you doing!" Jackson whimpered as he brought both his arms up to cover his face.
"I'm going to destroy this glove!" I yelled as I whipped it clean off his hand! I looked down at the limp glove that lay glimmering in my hairy palm, what now! To burn it? Throw it in one of my rubbish piles at home to never be seen again? Or even better, eat it! I glanced back down to look at the now hopefully terrified Michael Jackson only to see something so extraordinary that it made every hair in my thick hide to stand erect. He sat perfectly still, his hands still guarding his face but his now uncloaked left hand showed a thick frizzy mess of long, glistening lime green fur. I was in shock, awe, how could he hide all this fur under this thin glove that now sliped from my hands and hits the floor with a "clink".

 My eyes traced the ever so perfect silhouette of Michael Jackson's left hand, how his fur curled into tight ringlets at his finger tips, how it shimmered under the artificial lights in his dressing room, I swear I could even smell it! A smell that seemed even sweeter than Michael Buble. Now forget Buble's fleshy hands, I know that Jackson's hand would feel way better running all over me, it was destined to touch me! I gently pulled his quivering hand away from his face and tugged it up to my face before kissing his green hairy knuckles. I couldn't look him in the eyes, knowing I scared him
"I'm so sorry" I whispered "I was just so mad that you stole the show from Michael Buble, but now thinking back I see that it wasn't that you were trying to steal the show, it was that I was drawn to you... Mesmerized by you." I finally looked up to glance into his eyes, to see them twinkling like stars.
"I've never seen someone with hands like mine" He replied in a voice even softer than usual. His fingers intertwined with mine, interlocking perfectly.
"How can say that when my first impression on you was so bad" I let out. Jackson stared deeply into my eyes his obsidian black eyes reflected my confused face like a mirror.
"I saw you in the front row... and I saw your hands, somehow my mind got ahead of itself imaging how you would run your hairy hands down my spine and across my lips. I started acting out trying to get your eyes away from Michael Buble, but you just glared at me with hurtful eyes and then you didn't clap at the end my heart shattered...."
"I'm sorry!" I interrupted "I.... I...." I didn't know what to say I hurt him so much, even though I've only just met him. Words no longer could describe what I want to say instead I lent closer and closer to his face and placed my lips upon his, before leaning to his ear and running my hand across his cheek. "I'm so sorry for earlier, I didn't realise your lustful eyes were looking for me. But we can be together now... Right?"
"Yes!" Michael happily sung.