The Christmas Toy Factory
Page 1
Dear mouse friends,
Welcome to the world of
THE RODENT’S GAZETTE
EDITORIAL STAFF
Geronimo Stilton
A learned and brainy
mouse; editor of
The Rodent’s Gazette
Thea Stilton
Geronimo’s sister and
special correspondent at
The Rodent’s Gazette
Trap Stilton
An awful joker;
Geronimo’s cousin and
owner of the store
Cheap Junk for Less
Benjamin Stilton
Asweet and loving
nine-year-old mouse;
Geronimo’s favorite
nephew
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Scholastic Inc.
THE CHRISTMAS
TOY FACTORY
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright
Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced
into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by
any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter
invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For
information regarding permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A.,
Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan, Italy; e-mail foreignrights@atlantyca.it,
www.atlantyca.com.
eISBN 978-0-545-39239-6
Copyright © 2006 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Corso Como 15, 20154
Milan, Italy.
International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.
English translation © 2006 by Atlantyca S.p.A.
GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are
copyright, trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights
reserved. The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Based on an original idea by Elisabetta Dami.
www.geronimostilton.com
Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered
trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark
of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to
www.stiltoncheese.com.
Text by Geronimo Stilton
Original title Il mistero degli elfi
Cover by Giuseppe Ferrario
Illustrations by Danilo Barozzi, Silvia Bigolin, and Frencesco Castelli,
Christian Aliprandi (coloring), Archivio Piemme (maps)
Graphics by Merenguita Gingermouse, Michela Battaglin, and Yuko Egusa
Special thanks to Kathryn Cristaldi
Translated by Lidia Morson Tramontozzi
Interior design by Kay Petronio
First printing, October 2006
1
It was a cold — I mean, freezing — I mean,
teeth-chattering
December
morning. Snow
covered New Mouse City, and I was trudging
through it on my way to work. Brrr! My
paws felt like two blocks of ice.
I finally got to the office and . . . Oops, silly
TWO BLOCKS OF ICE
R
O
D
E
N
T
’
S
G
A
Z
E
T
T
E
T
H
E
MERRY
CHRISTMAS
me! I forgot to introduce myself. My name
is Stilton, Geronimo Stilton. I am the
publisher of The Rodent’s Gazette, the most
famouse newspaper on Mouse Island.
As I was saying, I got to the office and sat
down at my desk. But before I could start
working, a plump, furry mouse burst
through the door. It was my grandfather,
William Shortpaws, also known as
Cheap Mouse Willy. Rats!
Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandfather.
But for the past month, he has been driving
me up a clock!
Grandfather is the founder
of The Rodent’s Gazette. He
started it a long, long time
ago. He doesn’t work here
anymore. Lately, he’s into
golf. But he still loves to
4
6
stop by the office and check up on things.
Grandfather is one TOUGH, no-
nonsense rodent. His favorite saying is:
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES A MOUSE RICH,
RICH, RICH!
Before I could even squeak, “Hello,”
Grandfather William began thumping his
paw on my messy desk. A stack of papers
crashed to the floor. “Grandson, this desk is
a disgrace! Have you been working or eating
cheese bonbons? Remember, I built this
company with my own bare paws. If you’re
not careful, I’m going to come back and
you’ll only be in charge of the water cooler!”
he thundered, snapping my whiskers.
I gulped.
My
worst nightmare is
my grandfather coming back to head The
Rodent’s Gazette. And lately, I was afraid he
might do just that!
7
“I’m doing my best," I squeaked meekly.
Grandfather rolled his eyes. “Tell it to the
paw!” He smirked, holding one paw toward
me. Then he pulled my whiskers again. And
stormed out.
I got right to work. What else could I do?
I was worried. And besides, I don’t know a
thing about water coolers.
B
o
i
n
g
!
B
o
i
n
g
!
B
o
i
n
g
!
8
It snowed every day for a whole
week. I had to put snowshoes on my paws
just to get to work! I would have loved to call
in sick, but I couldn’t. What if Grandfather
William found out? I’d be out of a job faster
than you could say “egg and cheese on a
cream-cheese bagel.” Instead, I got up every
day at the crack of dawn and dragged myself
to the office. There I read manuscripts, signed
checks, and researched stories. I was so busy
I DREAMED I WAS
S
LEEPING
9
I never even took a lunch break.
I just nibbled on some stale
cheddar crackers that I kept in
a bowl on my desk.
Finally, at midnight, I’d head
home. I was so tired I’d fall into
my bed and start snoring before
my snout even hit the pillow. I
dreamed I was sleeping.
The days flew
by. I was
exhausted! But I had to keep
working. I couldn’t
let Grandfather William take
over the newspaper. I loved
my job. Too bad it was taking
over my life!
I got up at
dawn...
... worked until
midnight...
... and fell into
bed, asleep!
Snore!
On the morning of December 24, something
AWFUL happened. I was at my office reading
some mail that had piled up on my desk. I
came across a letter from my dear, sweet
nephew Benjamin.
When I read it, I
nearly jumped out
of my fur. It was
an invitation to his
Christmas play. I
twisted my tail up
in a
knot
.
“December 24!” I
squeaked. “Moldy
Dear Uncle Geronimo,
Can you please, please, please
come to my school’s Christmas
play on December 24
at 9:00
A
.
M
.?
Can’t wait to see you!
Love, Benjamin
UNCLE GERONIMO,
W
HY DIDN’T
Y
OU COME?
10
mozzarella balls, that’s today!” I was so busy
with work that I had completely forgotten.
I ran to Benjamin’s school as fast as my
paws could carry me. But it was no use.
When I got there, the play was already over.
Principal Sharp Whiskers shook his head
when he saw me. “Mr. Stilton, why are you so
late? Your nephew is crushed,” he scolded.
Just then, I noticed a little mouse sitting
all alone on the stage. It was Benjamin. He
looked at me sadly.
12
“Uncle Geronimo, why didn’t you come?
You always come to my Christmas play.
And this year I had the best part. I was one
of the fur trees,” he said.
I felt awful. How could I have let my
favorite nephew down? I grabbed his paw.
“Come on, I’m going to buy you an early
Christmas present,” I said, smiling.
I took him to the best toy store in
town, THE ROLLICKING
RODENT
. Have you ever been there?
The place is huge! The salesmouse showed
us a superscary cat mask and a squeak-
controlled race car. But all Benjamin wanted
was to go home. When we got there, he ran
inside before I could even say good-bye.
I felt lower than a sewer rat. I hung my
head and headed back to the office.
What else could I do? I had so much work to do!
Pick whatever
you like!
14
When I got back to the office, I slumped
behind my desk. What a rotten day. How could
I have forgotten my favorite nephew? If only
I didn’t have so much work to do. Just then,
I noticed the light on my answering machine
blinking. I hit the MESSAGE button. “Why aren’t
you at your desk, Geronimo?! Don’t make me
come in there!” Grandfather William’s voice
bellowed through the speaker.
I cringed. Suddenly, I heard a knock at
the door. Who could it be? A delivery mouse
wheeled in a huge package. It was
decorated with a shiny bow and some tiny
yellow bananas.
“I love bananas! B-a-n-a-n-a-s!”
I DON’T HAVE TIME
FOR SURPRISES!
I looked around to see who had spoken, but
didn’t see anyone.
Then, a sooty gray rat sprang out from the
package. He was wearing a long trench coat
and matching hat.
It was my friend Hercule Poirat,
the famouse detective!
He handed me a little PACKAGE. “Surprised,
Stilton? I wanted to wish you a Merry
Christmas!” he shouted.
Before I could respond, I heard a knock
at the window.
W
h
o
’
s
b
o
t
h
e
r
i
n
g
m
e
?
M
e
r
r
y
C
h
r
i
s
t
m
a
s
!
16
My eyes nearly popped out of my fur. A
rodent was hanging in front of the window
ledge. He had a crew cut and big, bulging
muscles. He was DANGLING from a
bungee cord.
I opened the window with shaking paws.
Was he some kind of spy? Was he from
another planet?
“Hey, fellow camper!” the rodent yelled.
“Just dropping by to say happy holidays!”
It was my friend Burt Burlyrat, otherwise
known as B.B. We’d met at a survival boot
camp deep in the jungle. Why would a
scaredy-mouse like me go to boot camp?
Well, that’s another story.
Now my teeth began to chatter watching
B.B. sway in the wind. I felt like I was about to
have a nervous breakdown. Of course, Burt
didn’t seem to mind that he was dangling
forty feet in the
air by a little
CORD
. Instead
he just smiled at
me and handed me
a GIFT-WRAPPED
PACKAGE
.
I was still worrying
about B.B. when the
door to my office
slammed open again.
"Merry Christmas
to you, dear
Geronimo!” a
magnificent
voice sang out.
A beautiful
rat wearing a
scrumptious
Happy holidays!
cheddar perfume stood in the doorway
holding a gift. She had amber-colored fur,
twinkling eyes, and a dazzling smile. It was
my dear friend Squeaky Star.
Do you know Squeaky? She is a very
famouse singer. Her , Under a Cheddar
Moon, has been number one on the charts
for almost a whole year. We met a while ago
on top of Kilimanjaro during another one
of my crazy adventures. I’ll have to tell you
about it sometime.
S
q
u
e
a
k
!
Best wishes!
CD
“I see you already have guests,” Squeaky
said, smiling. “Why don’t we all go out
for a HOLIDAY lunch and you can open
your CHRISTMAS GIFTS?”
Cheese niblets! I hated to be a Scrooge.
But what could I say? I had so much work
to do! And what if Grandfather William
decided to stop by? He’d have my tail!
“Thanks,” I said.
“But I don’t have
time. You’ll all have to go without me. I
am too busy.”
Disappointed, my friends headed out
the door. Well, except for B.B. He lowered
himself down to the sidewalk, instead.
I tried to wave good-bye, but he never
looked up.
I felt like the worst friend in the
whole world.
20
The snow kept falling, thicker and
thicker.
I had my snout buried deep in a pile of
papers when my friend Petunia Pretty Paws
stopped by. She is a fascinating mouse. I
guess you could say I have had a huge
crush
on her forever. Too bad
whenever I’m around her, I turn into a
babbling, blundering fool. I stammer. I
stutter. Sometimes I can’t even tell my left
paw from my right.
Petunia hugged me. “Geronimo!” she
squeaked.
“Yes, um, that’s me, Seronimo Gilton. I
mean Geronimo Stilton,” I mumbled, grinning.
I DON’T HAVE TIME
TO TRAVEL!
Petunia GIGGED and grabbed my paw.
“I have the most exciting news! I’m headed
off to Australia after Christmas to film a
documentary about dolphins. Why don’t you
come with me?” she squeaked. “Just think,
right now the sun is shining in Australia.”
I stared out the window. Oh, it would be so
nice to get away. Then I looked at the stack
of papers on my desk.
“Ahem, thanks, but I’m really too busy to go,”
I said.
Petunia put her paws on her hips. “Yes, yes.
I know you’re a very busy mouse, but there are some
things in life that are more important than
work, G,” she scolded.
I chewed my whiskers. Maybe she was right.
I was just about to say yes to Petunia
when I noticed the big, framed picture of
Grandfather William on the wall.
His piercing black eyes seemed to be
glaring at me. “All work and no play makes a mouse