The Grinch gets caught up in the lapsed copyright oblivion and we get a budget-strained trash-stained Christmas gift in the process. Unfortunately, this gift is coal wrapped in a turd. The titular creature, who looks a lot like the aftermath of a repurposed Bigfoot costume, is stopped by some old author who knows the score and in celebration of his defeat delivers a soliloquy about his dead wife and the demon’s parents. While mumbling to himself we get some backstory about a boy making a pact, dark forces and how we’ll “never know”. Sadly for the injured old man in the tasteful sweater, green Bigfoot returns wielding some candy canes which he uses to bring about eyeball violence and death. One year later a duo of true crime podcasters show up to the site of the old author’s death because the reclusive dead dude left a wake of mystery and whispers of a monster. That’s guaranteed views in the heads of these two dopes. We get more backstory about the monster and the author who was obsessed with the damned thing and then our heroes march off into the woods to do some investigating. They find some seasonal decorations in the woods, lazily strewn about some branches, an ornament filled with blood and a stocking filled with bones. Instead of beating a hasty retreat, they just keep on stumbling around weird shit. The monster watches until jamming a large candy cane through the stomach of one woman and then boiling the face of the other in a tiny cauldron. Later ladies. A family of four arrives in the area looking for an escape from the hustle and bustle and cure for poppa’s writer’s block. They stumble across a small inn and decide it’s a good enough spot to relax. This inn is the dead author’s old home which his daughter has inherited. The husband recognizes the spot but can’t put his finger on just why. Two elderly teens walk through the woods. The horny guy tells the girl the spooky story about the area and the couple are soon attacked by the goofy beast. He ditches her, she gets her throat sliced open and bleeds out for an extended period of time while the dink gets his heart eaten. My ass grows numb and I keep asking myself “Why isn’t Chrissie Wunna here?” The question about Wunna’s absence repeats as more idiots drive through the area and the cheapjack dyed Bigfoot claims more victims I could not give two-shits about. The family pops up between slayings to let you know they’re still around in the dead author’s house until they’ll be needed for the climax. A very boring and very pointless time. The score also blows.
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