NB: This is a novelization of the movie, Bratz Babyz Save Christmas. The dialogue is taken verbatim from the film. Everything else is what I added in to make the story more interesting and explain some of the gaping plot holes. To read all of the parts in this novelization, click here.
Max, Ralphie and Reggie, found themselves in a Waffle House. They had only the two dollars that they had scrounged from the parents that they ripped off this evening and no other place to go. They had been staying at one of the houses that the boss owned, but clearly, until they made up for what they owed their boss, they weren’t exactly going to be welcome.
The twins smiled at Max. They had never seen him so angry before. It wasn’t very reassuring for their Christmas spirit or their job security. Max glared back at them. His look spoke of his utter disgust with the two men and his firm desire to witness them both being slowly and painfully murdered.
“All we got is two dollars, thanks you to!” He growled at the elves. Max looked up at the bored waiter. “What can we get for that?” He asked.
“One eggnog and three straws,” the waiter responded, completely disinterested in their plight or anything in the world now that his girlfriend had left him and he was once again single over Christmas.
“Eggnog?” Ralphie asked, overjoyed. “It’s our favorite from when we were kids!”
“Oh, oh,” Reggie started. “Can we have some cinnamon sprinkled on top?”
The waiter rolled his eyes at the two men. He couldn’t believe that grown adults could possibly be this excited about eggnog. But he didn’t realize that they were both learning disabled and had the intellect of children. The waiter returned with a glass of eggnog and three straws.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, sarcastically. His usual dismal customer service shrank to nothing when he knew that there was no way that he was going to get a tip. He walked away and never returned to the table.
“Hear that?” Reggie asked, happily. “He said Merry Christmas!”
On his last nerve and unbelievably tired of hearing about Christmas every five seconds from his two cohorts, Max grabbed the glass of eggnog and drained it in one gulp. He belched loudly and looked at the twins in glee.
“Oh, now is that the kind of thing that Santa would do?” Reggie asked, quietly.
“Yeah, when he’s having the worst Christmas of his life. No money, in trouble with the boss, about to be arrested. An all thanks to you two dim bulbs! I have half a mind to –” Max stopped short when he saw that the elves were transfixed by something on the TV in the small diner.
He rolled his eyes. “Hey! Pay attention to me when I’m chewing you out,” Max snapped.
But the twins were watching the same program that the Bratz had just seen and were mesmerized by the shiny apple-red Corvette that the elf was showing off. “Oh wow,” Reggie said in awe. “What I’d give to have gotten that when I was a kid.”
Max turned to look at the TV and started watching the rest of the broadcast. “Not only is Santa bringing the Summer House orphans a surprise present, there’s a surprise inside the surprise,” Jan Whitman continued. “A donation of a million dollars from an anonymous hip-hop recording star who grew up an orphan at Summer House himself.”
Max raised an eyebrow at that statement. Anyone with an internet connection could look up a hip-hop star who grew up at Summer House. It wasn’t as if that donation was going to be anonymous for very long.
“A story that could only happen on Christmas Eve, John,” Jan continued as the screen changed to a shot of Elf holding up a key to the trunk of the Corvette were all of the money was stored. “And to all a good night,” Jan sighed off.
The criminals turned from the television and sat back in their booth. Max smiled a smile so broad that his cohorts were slightly worried. “Boys, this is gonna be a Merry Christmas after all,” he assured them. “We’re going to the North Pole!”
“And what are we gonna do at the North Pole?” Ralphie asked, cluelessly.
“Let’s just say we’re on a mission of mercy to take from the rich and give to the poor. Namely, us,” Max explained. But the twins took another minute to catch on.
“You mean…” Ralphie trailed off, about to suggest that they all dress up like Robin Hood and hold a benefit play.
“Steal the orphan’s Christmas present?” Reggie finished.
Max nodded slowly, with great satisfaction.
“You wouldn’t,” Ralphie said, in complete disbelief that his boss would have sunk to even this level.
“You couldn’t,” Reggie added, unsure of what else to say.
“I would, I could,” Max told them, putting his cheap Santa beard on again. “And I will,” he finished.
“But Santa, I mean, crime is one thing,” Ralphie tried to reason with him. “But this is criminal.”
Max first wanted to ask the twins what their definition of crime was exactly. But instead, he decided that he wouldn’t even bother trying to reason with them. “Fine,” he said, pulling out his cell phone. “I’ll just call the boss and say you guys failed.”
“Now, wait a minute,” Ralphie said, jumping up. He had only met the boss a few times, but even he knew better than to get on the boss’s bad side.
“That you didn’t want to pay back the 100 grand you lost,” Max continued, holding the flip phone open. The twins exchanged looks of horror. Max dialed one number, then another.
“No, don’t! We’ll do it!” Ralphie shouted, entirely too loudly for the restaurant.
Max smiled to himself. He knew that the twins couldn’t hold out for long when he was putting the right kind of pressure on them. “I thought you would,” he said triumphantly. “And don’t call me Santa!” He reminded them for the millionth time that day.
Outside at the mall, about two hundred yards from where the Waffle House was located, William and his father were still dealing with the aftermath of that afternoon’s theft. The father was doing his best to remember what Max looked like, but since he was in costume and had most of his face obscured, he was having great difficulty.
The security guard, Irina, a severe looking woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun and a permanent frown on her face, was now doodling on her notepad. She was completely bored with this exercise and couldn’t have cared less if the father or William lived or died.
“Well, uh, I’d say that he was dressed in red,” the father continued. “Yes, definitely red. Oh and a white trim.”
“What are you talking about?” William interjected. “Everyone knows what Santa Claus looks like.” He stared up at Irina in annoyance. “What kind of security guard doesn’t know what Santa Claus looks like? If you don’t know what Santa Claus looks like, you ought to turn in your badge.”
Irina continued to doodle on her page until William’s high-pitched voice broke her concentration and she snapped her pencil lead on the paper. She put down her notepad and lowered her head until she was eye-to-eye with William. “What was that?” She growled, in a low voice.
William whimpered, pathetically. “Nothing. Hope you find him. Merry Christmas!” He added, before hiding behind his father.
“And the thousand dollars I had in my wallet,” his father added.
“That much?” Irina asked. “I’ll find him.”
“And when you do, I hope he’s dealt with in the most harshest possible way,” He added.
Irina looked at him, square in the eyes. “Harsh is my middle name,” she promised.
Gran finally got the ladder in place and managed to climb up the steel structure to the roof. She placed the red sack onto the slope of the roof and accidentally shifted the balance of the ladder. It swung backwards, turning in midair. Gran let out a yelp and leaned back, sending the ladder back against the roof and knocking her off, onto the top of her house.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Gran remarked, unable to even fathom what would have happened if her girls had woken up on Christmas morning to see their dear Gran dead on the lawn. She pushed the ladder away from her, but pushed it a little too hard.
The ladder feel back and clattered to the ground. Gran winced. Now she had to get down the chimney. She had no other way to get back to the ground.
But her goal was almost at hand. Gran focused on the entire reason why she had climbed up there; coming down the chimney to surprise her children. Gran walked over to the chimney, dragging the sack along with her. Finally, she climbed into the chimney and waited for gravity to do the rest.
But it didn’t. Gran looked around. She was completely in the chimney, but she wasn’t moving. She was stuck. “Oh, dear me,” Gran murmured to herself, looking around the darkened streets.
Max and the elves left the restaurant and went right to their van that was parked outside of the mall in the furthest parking lot from the civilization. The van, which was a Volkswagen Minibus had been decorated in tinsel, lights, glass bulbs and even a bright red Santa hat adorned the broken antenna. A red bow hung on the front grill that had recently been duct taped back on, following a fender bender in freeway traffic.
“What?!” Max demanded, upon catching sight of his van. Although he didn’t really take care of it, and he had no interest in updating it, he still didn’t want it decorated for Christmas.
“Merry Christmas!” Ralphie and Reggie chorused.
“Did you do this?!” Max demanded, as if there were roving gangs of Christmas-obsessed lunatics who randomly decorated cars in mall parking lots that they needed to take into consideration.
“We thought if would cheer Santa up,” Reggie said. He blinked back tears. How could Santa not like their decorations? They had worked so hard, each one making an excuse to disappear for a few minutes, all building up for the big reveal that they were sure Max would love.
“I’m not Santa!” Max shouted, once again. But the twins couldn’t help it. He looked like Santa. Why wasn’t he Santa? “You dim bulbs,” Max continued. “Look what you did to my van. I’ll decorate you! Come here!”
Max took off after Ralphie. Both of the twins went separate ways and Max then wasn’t sure which man he wanted to go after. He chased one around a parked car and then back to the front of the van. “Come here! Slow down!” He yelled. The elves didn’t stop running.
Just then, Irina rolled up in her squad’s Smart Car and saw the figure dressed as Santa chasing two smaller figures dresses as elves. She gasped. There was her perp! “Ah!” She said, looking ahead of her. They were so close, she could almost hear the click of their handcuffs.
But in front of Irina was a large delivery truck that was taking some last-minute supplies into a store. The 18-wheeler completely blocked her path and the path of anyone else who wanted in or out of the parking lot on that side. Irina reversed without looking back and only stopped when she heard a large crunch.
Irina turned and saw that she had hit an old man that was driving an SUV. He was trying to get out of the same cramped parking lot that she was. But Irina didn’t have time for old men drivers. “Move it!” She yelled.
The old man, who had already had one heart attack that year, blew a raspberry at the woman. Just then, Max and the elves, who had just gotten into their van, looked in the rear view mirror and saw Irina, a determined look on her face, in the row of cars behind them.
They all gasped as the sight and Irina stared them down. Max started the car, which thankfully turned over without any problems this time, and Irina growled in annoyance. The driver of the SUV hadn’t moved an inch.
Irina continued to back up, pushing the SUV out of the way and knocking it into a third car that had parked next to the old man. A normal Smart Car wouldn’t have been able to perform such a feat, but this Smart Car was made from solid tungsten and reinforced with platinum.
The Smart Car company had long been trying to corner the market on police vehicles and had sent out these cruisers to malls all over the US to test them out. Irina, so far, had greatly enjoyed hers. She got out of that row of parking spaces and went to where Max and his cohorts had just been.
However, they were gone by the time she pulled alongside their parking space. The only remnant that they were even there was a single empty light bulb that had fallen off the vehicle when they had sped away. Irina looked around. She saw the direction where they took off. She knew what she had to do.
The Bratz pulled out of their neighborhood and onto one of Stilesville’s main road. They rode past a few row houses and passed people who were out for late night walks or visiting relatives that Christmas Eve. But even the sight of four toddlers on a mechanical reindeer-pulled sleigh wasn’t enough to arch an eyebrow in town.
“Yeehaw!” Sasha called. “Giddyup!”
“Let’s save Christmas and make those kids’ dreams come true!” Yasmin shouted as they passed a police officer who was directing traffic after a bad accident. He looked at the girls strangely as they drove past, almost hitting a car that been waiting to turn.
But the cop just shook his head and continued about his duties. He knew he had had too much eggnog before going into work. The girls veered onto the sidewalk, causing several pedestrians to run for cover. They finally got out onto the deserted highway and started riding straight for the North Pole.
Just then, they drove through a barrier and up a ramp. The sleigh took flight for a brief second. The girls felt that they were flying. When they touched down, the bump almost sent Cloe rocketing out of her seat. But Sasha held onto her.
Up ahead a sign came into view. It pointed straight ahead for the North Pole. The girls, not realizing that the North Pole is thousands of miles away, cheered at the sight and continued their joy ride.
The three criminals rode in silence for several miles once they got onto the main road. Max was driving, Reggie was in the passenger’s seat and Ralphie was sitting in the back. After the insults that Max had laid on after they escaped Irina, the twins had never felt less like Christmas.
Reggie tried to console himself by playing with his new yo-yo. Worldly possessions always made him feel better. He wound it up and let it go. The yo-yo came entirely too close to Max’s head and the man put his arm up to protect himself from the toy.
“Hey, hey!” Max objected. It was one thing to have to drive the twins since neither of them had licenses, but it was another to try to drive them while they were swinging yo-yos dangerously close to his head. He had already discussed with them that distracting the driver was dangerous and could lead to an accident, but the lesson didn’t seem to have sunk in with either of them.
“Sorry, Max,” Reggie told his boss. “I was just trying to do a ring around the Saturn.”
“I’ll do a ring around your head if you don’t put that thing away,” Max retorted. Reggie wasn’t sure if that was a threat or not, but he chose to listen.
“You remember what mom used to say?” Ralphie asked, leaning forward in his seat and straining against the seat belt.
“Get your hands out of the cookie jar?” Reggie asked. That’s at least what he remembered mom saying. That and, “Where’s my crack pipe?”
“No,” Ralphie said, shaking his head.
“You break it, you bought it?” Reggie asked, hoping that his brother wasn’t trying to get him to mention illegal narcotics.
“No, Reggie, about playing with toys when you’re not supposed to,” Ralphie told him.
“I don’t remember that one,” Reggie admitted. “Don’t remember having toys when we were kids,” he said, sadly.
Max rolled his eyes. If he had to hear one more whiny story about how their parents beat them or didn’t give them enough food, he would scream. The group continued driving in silence for several blissful minutes.
Bored, Reggie eventually started playing with the yo-yo again. Ralphie yawned in the back seat, his eyes sliding closed for just a second. Suddenly, the car hit a speed bump on the highway and Reggie lurched forward, the yo-yo sprung out of his hand and hit Max in the face.
“That’s it!” Max thundered, rubbing his sore nose. “Give me that!” He grabbed at the toy, taking his eyes away from the road for far longer than he should have. “Give it to me. Give it! Hand it over. Give it!” He shouted.
“No, my yo-yo!” Reggie screamed back. The van veered off of the road and onto the bumpy gravel highway. Ralphie politely asked both parties to sit down so they could continue their journey safely, but no one heard him.
“I’ll yo-yo you!” Max shouted back, still reaching for the toy.
“No, mine!” Reggie objected.
“Gimme!” Max shrieked.
“No!” Reggie cried.
Max suddenly looked in his rearview mirror and saw the distinct shape of a car gaining on the van. Completely forgetting about the yo-yo, he sped up. Reggie settled down in his seat and held the yo-yo against his chest. He decided not to try to play with it again in the car.
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