The Tale of the Lorax - Part 2

Chapter Two: The Lorax

The true story, the real story, started on a farm in the middle of nowhere. There was a house of wood cutters by trade; the Ler's were their names. Long ago the father had left, abandoning his family behind to fend for themselves. In his abandonment he left his young wife, her sister, her sister's husband and his three children. The first child was Once-ler, tall, skinny, gangly as a tree. Then there were the twins, Chet and Brett, boisterous and playful as any twin boys would be. After the abandonment of the father, however, life in the household took a sharp nose dive.

Once-ler, who looked so much like his father, was put upon.

"Stupid no-hoper!"

"Never going to go anywhere in life."

"Won't achieve a thing."

"Should never ever happened!"

These and more insults soon became a daily occurrence for the young boy. Very quickly did he learn crying got him nowhere, since every time he did his mother or nearest guardian would groan and leave him alone. Now some would see these insults and live with them, have them feed bad thoughts, bad moods, and self consciousness. Once-ler, as he was known, was not like that. He took them as challenges. Tell him he's going to fail? He'd try even harder. Say he won't go anywhere in life, watch him plan to leave. The young man had grand schemes, big dreams, hopes the size of the world and even with his family laughing at his back he had set out into the world with nothing but a mule, a wagon, and an obscenely sense of optimism.

"Well, here I go Ma. Off to change the world with my thneed." he announced as he loaded his cart with his precious belongings as well as the  canvas built cottage he would one day live in, once he had found the place for him.

"Yes…" his mother said as she stood on the porch, her fox fur wrapped around her shoulders as always. "Just remember Oncie, if your invention ends up a failure and not as a success… well it wouldn't surprise me at all!" she laughed, loudly, obscenely as the rest of the family joined in. His aunt, his uncle, and his twin brothers had one good long last laugh at his expense as he got into his wagon, grumbling.

"Laugh now. You'll see! You'll all see I'm going to make a difference!" he shouted angrily, and left his family far behind once his mule Melvin began to pull the wagon away from the desolate place he had called home. Cornfields spread in every direction, family farms stood in shambles from not being cared for, and rusted cars sat on the side of the roads. This was where Once-ler had been born and raised; here he'd spent his childhood hiding from his family in the tall corn stalks before he got too tall to do it because my word was he tall. He was six foot four, and incredibly slender and lean. But that didn't mean he was as push over, of course not.


He knew how to swing an axe. His whole family had been loggers, woodsmen, tree choppers. It had been the family job for generations, even his dear mother and aunt knew how to swing an axe properly and so he had muscles and good strength in his upper arms and chest. On top of that he was a wicked shot with a gun, as well. He had gone hunting for game, naturally, with his brothers and since they were no-hopers it was up to him to shoot ducks, geese, and other such animals when it was the season for it. One could underestimate him very easily.

"I travelled for months." the old man recanted down the funnel, "For so long I searched far and wide, near and far, up and down, loop-dee-loop… but I had no luck. I just couldn't find the right material for my thneed, ordinary wool wasn't good enough you see, it didn't stretch right. It had holes… nothing was working… and it was really starting to get me down because I did not want to end up going home a failure."

"No .. of course not." Ted commented since imagining going back home a failure to those people would have been like a death sentence.

"But then, finally one day… I found paradise…"

It was a valley unlike any he had ever seen before. It seemed stretch on for eternity with thick, green grass growing out of the ground. There were bushes, beautifully colorful flowers, other small plants, and there was a beautiful long stream running through the scenery that became a river, and then a waterfall far in the distance. It was like something out of a fairy tale, something that shouldn't or couldn't be possible in a world as ugly as the one Once-ler had come from. On top of that the animals were here, as well. Brown Bar-ba-loots frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suits beneath the trees, meanwhile the songs of the Swomee-Swans sung out in space accompanied by the hums of the Humming Fish who splashed merrily around in the water.

Once-ler had never seen such a beautiful place in all of his life because on top of all the beautiful things just listened, what he had focused on were the trees. They towered above him, their trunks thin and slender with grey and white stripes. Their leaves, though, were tufts. Beautiful soft, silky tufts that came in pink, red, yellow and orange. The young man reached out and touched one of the tufts and felt just how soft and smooth it was and he was floored. Softer than silk itself! And their smell, oh their scent was just like fresh butterfly milk. He had never felt so lucky, so loved by the world and by chance itself.

"This is it, this is the place!" he declared at the top of his lungs. "These trees, they have just what I need for my thneed!"

First things were first though, he needed a place to live. Luckily he had loaded his cart with all manner of things to help him set up in his new home and it wasn't too long that he had set up a small cottage. The walls were thin, made of material, the floor was flexible wood and he had unloaded his furniture (a mattress, bed frame, ice box, a small stove, and other assorted things) into the cottage as well. Soon it was all set, ready and waiting for him to make a life here. Grinning to himself, the tall, slender young man of only twenty five knew what had to be done first of all… he needed food.

He cleaned out his trusty shot gun, making sure all the parts were as clean as he could make them, and loaded them with the bullets. Being a farm boy, Once-ler had long since accepted animals had to die to give food; after all he was the one who went hunting for the family. He wondered who would hunt for them now… probably his aunt. She was a frightfully terrifying woman to behold any animal may well keel over as soon as she walked into their woods. Whistling to himself Once-ler headed out into the forest, shotgun in hand. It wasn't long before he found a flock of Swomee Swans flying in lazy circles in the sky.

"Bingo." he whispered. The birds were beautiful yes, with long lovely necks, noble breasts, and a plumage of a brilliant orange gold that stood out amongst the trees. He lifted his shot gun, took aim, hoped they tasted as good as they looked, and pulled the trigger. The birds scattered instantly, their songs turning into squawks of alarm and fear as one of them plummeted to the ground already dead. If he was one thing in this world, it was a good shot. "Got ya!" Once-ler called as he ran out across the grass, over the stream, and picked up the bird by the legs. "Oh boy you're a big one!" he grinned, "You're gonna feed me for days!"

Naturally the bird had to be prepared. Wings plucked, head chopped off, and hung upside down to drain all the blood but it was all part and parcel of eating in the wild.

"All right then," he said as he cleaned his blood stained hands in the stream, "Now that's done I got some chopping to do." he grabbed his trusty axe that he had brought out with him and made his way out into the valley again but this time he wasn't hunting for food but something far more precious. Naturally, now the animals were curious, but far more scared of the man and knew better not to approach. They watched him from afar but dare not get too close unless he would deliver death upon them, as well.

He stood before a giant pink tufted Truffula tree, and he gazed in wonder at it. The tufts were beautiful, and it was so tall… probably well over fifty years old. The oak on the trunk was grey and white striped, similar to the trousers he wore, and it was truly beautiful. But, business was business and he had a job to do. "Here we go, about to change the world." he said to himself and he readied his axe, and began to swing at the trunk. The sounds echoed out into the forest, sending more birds into the skies. With every heavy swing of his axe was a heavy 'thunk' sound as his axe worked away at the tree and if he could have seen the animals faces he may have understood he was doing something frightfully bad.

They were filled with terror, almost as much as when he had shot the Swomee swan. The birds took to the air, the fish to the water, and the bar-ba-loots climbed their trees for safety and hid in the bushes. The noise continued until, finally, the tree gave an awfully loud groan like an old man dying in his bed, before it creaked and toppled over. Once-ler watched, axe now set on his shoulder, watching proudly as he had felled the mighty tree. It landed heavily, and he smiled wider still. "Phase one, complete." he announced as he grabbed the trunk in his gloved green hands and after getting a good grip, hoisted it under one arm and dragged the trunk back towards his cottage.

"But," the old man's voice buzzed through the funnel, "little did I know that by chopping down that tree I had summoned a creature unlike any I'd ever seen before. The legendary… guardian of the forest. The Lorax."

Ted had to jump because at that very moment in which the old man had announced the creatures name there was a sudden roll of thunder and clap of lightning making the moment seem even more dramatic than it normally would be.

"Guardian?" Ted asked shakily.

"Guardian…" the old man whispered quietly into the funnel and Ted could hear the pained emotion behind his words. He spoke of longing, of time long since past, maybe even friendship? It was hard to tell since he was unable to see his face from down here but whatever this Lorax was, it had meant the world to this man at one point.

The tree stump had sat there, as tree stumps were known to do. The nearest animals watched it carefully but dare not approach since the sight of a tree that had been felled by something besides nature itself, wild fire, or old age was something they had never seen before. Truffula trees lived a long, long time, and the oldest one in this forest was well over a couple hundreds years old. But like any tree they had to die, some of them rotting, others getting diseases and dying. But that was life; you live, you die. But never had one been killed so viciously before.

But the tree stump suddenly began to shake. The air itself suddenly became very tense, and the clouds in the sky began to rumble and roar as if a storm was approaching. Once-ler, having just reached his cottage, stroked his upper lip before vanishing inside to grab the things he'd need to harvest the tufts without damaging them and in doing so missed the arrival of a being that would no doubt change his life as much as he was going to change his. Lightning shot from the skies, pierced the wood stump, lit up the skies like flames before vanishing as if nothing had happened.

It was then the creature emerged from the stump and it had to be the strangest 'birth' in the world. The animal, whatever it was, stretched arms out of the trunk before it pulled the rest of itself out but it was far larger than the tree stump. It stood at least five foot in total and had orange fur that covered its body from head to toe. It had yellow eyebrows and a luscious looking moustache that wafted in the breeze. It also had a yellow mane that ran around its neck and down its back resulting in a long flowing orange and yellow tail that looked like it should belong to a horse. Its arms and feet ended in three digits, and the upper body strength was pronounced by muscles beneath the fur.

As soon as it was free of the tree it collapsed onto its four legs, and shook itself. Where it stepped assorted flowers suddenly bloomed and the second it stepped away they shriveled and died, returning to the Earth as if nothing happened. Its eyes opened, revealing eyes that looked so very old, aged, and wise yet at the same time innocent and new to the world. They were a brilliant shade of green, one of which nobody had seen before. Blinking its lids slowly the creature, the Lorax, turned and sniffed at the tree stump a few times before tilting its head back and gave out a mournful sound.

Once-ler had missed all of this, and finally exited his cottage with something that looked like a large comb. He used it to tug the tufts free of the tree and into a sack. This was exciting; it was so very exciting for him. All his life he had searched for trees, such trees like these and they were going to help make his thneed and make him rich and famous. So lost in his day dreams was he, he didn't hear the creature approach him from behind. It was only when he finally turned around did he see the creature standing there before him; orange and yellow fur, ageless eyes and flowers sprouting around its four feet.

"ARGH!" Once-ler yelled in alarm as he fell over his own legs and backed away from the animal, whatever it was.

"Did you chop down this tree?" it asked, though, Once-ler swore it asked because the creatures' mouth did not move when it spoke. It was more like the voice was within Once-ler's own mind, speaking in a voice and accent he'd never heard before.

"W-what are—"

"Did you chop down this tree?" it asked again.

"…no…?" Once-ler asked, voice tiny.

"Don't you lie to me. I know you did." the creature frowned.

"What are you?" the young man asked finally, voice shrill and tiny.

It stood back and held its head high, its nose sniffing at the air. "I am The Lorax. I speak for the trees for the trees have no tongues." the Lorax turned its head back to Once-ler and took a step forward, the flowers beneath its feet dying only for fresh ones to appear where it stepped. "And you, sir, have just chopped down one of my Truffula trees. I will not stand for this."

Once-ler knew if this animal wanted to it could kill him; it looked strong enough. Why had he left his gun inside? His eyes went to the axe by the tree and was tempted to make a lunge for it but knew if he did the animal would no doubt attack without remorse and he'd be dead in seconds. He swallowed harshly before getting to his feet; he was taller, that was good. It gave him a good advantage, a sense of importance.

"Yeah well. I'm sorry but I'm not going anywhere. I, I took a lot of steps to get here! I left home, I've been wandering for so long and this is my chance! I'm not, not about to have some… some mind talky orange thing like you tell me to leave! I'm sorry, but I'm not going anywhere." he folded his arms over his chest.

The Lorax regarded him quietly, before the fur along its back began to bristle and it bared its teeth; revealing a mix of sharp canine teeth but also grass eating teeth. It did not growl, though. "So be it." said the Lorax. "But if you are not gone by the time the sun sets upon the valley, all the forces of nature shall be unleashed upon you, and curse you till the end of your days. You have been warned." it said, its voice deep and resonating within Once-ler's head, causing the young man to take a few hurried steps back in alarm. The creature stood there, before it slowly backed up, turned, and walked away. Once-ler watched it move, watched the flowers sprout beneath its feet before dying to nothing.

"…y-yeah. Yeah right. Curse me. Good luck with that!" he called after the animals retreating back, feeling braver now it was walking away. "I'm not leaving! I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mustache!"

He stood there, glaring at the retreating back, before he crouched down and went back to work at harvesting his tufts. How dare that… that thing get into his head like that! Saying it was his tree, trees don't belong to anyone! They were free game, and he had as much right to them as the Lorax did. He had a thneed to make, and turning these tufts into something knittable would take a while but it would be worth it. It would so, so be worth being threatened with a curse if it meant being able to hold his thneed in his hands.

"But I didn't listen to his warning, I was a young stupid fool back then and I didn't realize the weight behind what had just spoken to me, what had just happened." the old Once-ler's voice said, before having to stop his tale to cough violently. It really did sound bad, Ted could almost hear the rattling of his lungs and the weight of phlegm within his throat but it just wasn't going to dislodge itself it seemed no matter how hard the old man coughed.

"So did he curse you? Did he really lay a curse on you?" Ted asked.

"It's time to go." the old man said.

"What? No! You can't just stop like—"

The door to the house suddenly swung open and Ted took a few hurried steps back as the man was suddenly there, standing before him, a lit cigar held tightly between his teeth. He had a long, billowing, dusty green coat on. He had green gloves that covered his hands, vanishing up the heavy looking sleeves of the coat. His long pink scarf was frayed at the ends, and there were stains on it that looked like old, dried blood as well as dirt and mud. He had goggles on over his eyes making it impossible for Ted to make out too many distinguishing features but what he did have was a moustache. The old man stood there, before reaching back into the house and pulled out a shot gun and pushed it into a holster against his back, before retrieving two smaller guns and put them into their holders at his hips.

"I need to take you back to Thneedville." Once-ler said. "It's well past curfew now."

"You know about…"

"I know everything, I've been watching that city since forever! Now come on, get on your bike." the old man strode past him and as he did, Ted could make out the sound of metal, somewhere. He observed the weaponry the man was wearing, and wondered if he had more on beneath his jacket.

"You sure you can keep up with me?" Ted asked as he approached his bike and pulled it up off the ground.

"I can keep up with anyone." Once-ler whispered. "I've arranged for your Grandmother to be waiting for you at one of her drop off points; she'll take you home safely."

"Wait a second you… you arranged this?" the young boys eyes widened beneath his goggles as he got onto his bike. "You knew I was coming?"

"Not when. But I knew you'd be here eventually." he watched as the Once-ler adjusted his goggles, and tied his scarf tighter around his neck. "The night you would, she would be waiting for you. And we can't risk your grandmother being found out. She's risked so much for me as it is I can't ask any more."

Ted seriously wondered just how 'well' this old man knew his grandmother. Growing up, Ted had never heard of a grandfather. He had expected he had died, or had left his grandmother fairly early on since even his mother never spoke of a father. And here he was learning his grandmother was head of a vigilante group working to topple O'Hare, and she was in constant touch with an equally old man who lived out in the toxic wasteland that surrounded the town. He wanted to out right ask, but felt that was too much to ask. He started up his bike and began to drive across the ground and sure enough… the old man kept up with him.

Once-ler even over took him at some point, waving with a hand, gesturing for Ted to follow him. They took a zigzagging path way through the tree stumps and mounds of dirt. While he had many probing answers, one just had to be asked.

"They're graves aren't they?" he asked as he rode.

"Perspective. I like that." Once-ler said back. "Yes. They're all graves. When O'Hare sends the sick, or the weak and poor, over the wall they stand no chance. So used to living in his 'clean' environment their bodies can't adapt. I try to help. I really do. I take them to my home. I feed them and look after them but. But none of them survive. So I have to bury them. Give them some kind of dignity. Especially the babies."

"Babies?!" Ted almost fell off of his bike.

"Not now. Turn off your bike."

Ted did, grasping it firmly in his fists. Babies? What babies? Were there babies out here? Where? Were they dead too? Of course they had to; if grown adults couldn't adapt how could a baby… he looked up and saw The Wall standing there, bold as brass. Besides him, the old man stood, surveying it silently, waiting. Finally he seemed to spot something and Ted yelped when he suddenly found himself being pulled into the old man's arms, along with his bike. Once-ler ran at the wall with full force for a man his age it was quite impressive but the next thing Ted knew they were flying through the air. The old man had jumped; and with the dexterity of a jumping spider at that.

They landed on top of the wall, and the old man jumped again; they were back in Thneedville. There, waiting in the shadows, Ted could see the outline of his grandmother. He began to talk but she held her hand up to silence him. The teenager rushed to his grandmother and she embraced him tightly in a way that spoke volumes. Maybe she feared she would never see him again, that he'd be found out. Ted said nothing, before he pulled his mask off and by then Once-ler had approached them. His hand was to his grandmother's back and he watched them closely; how their eyes met, how they were speaking without the use of words at all. The old man then caressed her cheek gently and she pressed her hand to his, holding it against hers for as long as she could.

"Hey what's that?" a voice from down the way asked.

Ted and his grandmother were suddenly running, pushed away by the old man.

"DEATH TO O'HARE!" Ted heard the old man suddenly scream as sounds of gunfire filled the air. "THE LORAX WILL RISE AGAIN!"

"Don't turn back. Don't look back. Keep running. Keep following me. Stay close to me." his grandmother's words kept Ted calm. "I know a way, a way without being seen just stay with me Ted, stay with me."

So many emotions ran through Ted's mind, now. How could the Once-ler jump so high? Was the Lorax real? Had it all been a dream of a young man? What was his connection to his grandmother? Would they get home safe again? Would he even see his mother again? The guns, they were shooting; had they hit the old man? Would he be brave enough to go back to him a second time, to hear the rest of the tale of what happened to the trees?

And what did he mean that the Lorax would rise again..?

~*~

A squat, short man, sat behind a powerfully huge, intimidating desk. You couldn't see much of him thanks to the shadows he sat in, but you could tell he was important. This man knew the city, he owned, and ran the city. His steel grey eyes stared out at the city from his window within the floating blimp that slowly travelled the city, spewing grime into the air as it went. O'Hare linked his fingers together slowly as a door opened.

"Report?" he asked.

"He was in the city again, Sir."

"What." O'Hare whispered.

"H-he was in the city again, S-sir… he. He killed four guards, Sir."

"WHAT." O'Hare screamed as the poor assistant shivered beneath the powerful gaze of the short man. "HE CONTINUES TO MAKE A MOCKERY OF ME! Breaking into my town, killing my guards, stealing my goods! He's a mad man! A MAD MAN. And NONE of you have the balls to take him down! How old is this man now?! Eighty? Ninety? AND YET HE CONTINUES TO RUN RINGS AROUND THE LOT OF YOU! More and more every year, every single year he's getting bolder. He has contacts, oh I know he does. Why else would he be here, why else would he keep coming back? IT DRIVES ME MAD!"

He took a few deep, calming breaths, and smoothed his fingers against his black eyebrows.

"Up security. Double patrols. I want him and his little band of terrorists brought down. By this weeks end. Or so help you God…"

The assistant ran from the room as fast as he could, knowing that when O'Hare threatened something you did not take it lightly. This old man, the Once-ler, had been a thorn in his side for decades now. His actions were getting bolder, louder, people were beginning to learn more about him and that was a worrisome thing. A revolution, an attack, to bring down O'Hare felt as if it was the next logical step in his plan and O'Hare loved being in control. He loved being in charge, and he wasn't about to give it up for anybody… especially not a crazy old man.