How does it feel to be
One of the beautiful people?
Now that you know who you are
What do you want to be?
And have you travelled very far?
Far as the eye can see.
How does it feel to be
One of the beautiful people?
How often have you been there?
Often enough to know.
What did you see, when you were there?
Nothing that doesn't show.
Baby you're a rich man...
~Baby You're a Rich Man, The Beatles
Thneed. That single word is on everyone's minds these days. No one does not own at least one Thneed. This makes the Once-ler wonder very much, because all you truly need is one. It can do everything, absolutely anything. He smiles. A simple childhood idea has turned into a luxury item, turned him into a bazillionaire. It is a shirt, a sock, a glove, a hat. It can also be used as a carpet, a pillow, sheets or curtains, even covers for bicycle seats!
Of course, there is always someone who is not happy. And that someone is The Lorax, who keeps pestering the Once-ler every damn day, it seems. It's nearly quitting time for the workers on this unusually cloudy day, and there has been no sign of the mustached fiend. He very nearly breathes a sigh of relief, but that signifies his duties are done, and business is never done.
He makes himself a mug of hot chocolate, topped with five marshmallows. Aw, why not ten? Once-ler frowns, pouring the rest of the bag into the liquid until it nearly overflows. Yummy. As ruthless of a businessman as he is, how could he ever refuse such a delicious treat? How could anyone refuse hot cocoa? With marshmallows? If heaven existed (and if that's where he would end up, rather than...less desirable places), this is what it would be like. Just him, his money, a Thneed, and marshmallows.
He stands out on the balcony to get a look outside. He has not been outside for weeks, it seems. Must be allergies, he tells himself and his family, but of course he is afraid to leave the safety of his home. Home is safe, where he is guilt-free, with a clear conscience. Outside just reminds him of what he has done, what he's hurting. Alas, nothing seems unusual or out of place. The sky is a little more grey, perhaps. There are a little less truffula trees in the east, but besides that, not bad. Business is booming.
But-what is this the Once-ler sees? He pulls his sunglasses down his nose. A person, it seems, is frolicking about the forest, chasing after a little Barbaloot. Judging by the waist-long, powdery pink hair and the flowing, floor-brushing dress, the person most definitely is female. How sweet, he thinks to himself with an annoyed little smile. Though this may sound quite strange coming from the world's most successful man, he absolutely hates others around him enjoying themselves more than he is. He tries to ignore the laughs which seem to becoming increasing louder. How peculiar it is to hear something other than the chopping of Truffula trees and the whirl of machines making Thneeds.
And the Once-ler does not like it.
He grabs a bullhorn somewhat magically from one of the numerous shelves and rushes to the open window. He leans out as far as his long body can reach, and shouts, "Shut up!"
The girl stops almost immediately, and at the sound of his angry voice, the Barbaloot leaps into her arms and buries his face into her shoulder. The girl cups her free hand behind her ear, jogging forward slightly to get a better look at who very rudely told her to shut up. "What?" she yells.
"I told you to shut up!"
The Barbaloot squeaks, jumps back to the ground to the annoying girl's utter surprise, and takes off, leaving her standing there, dumbfounded.
At least she's quiet now, he thinks, slamming the window and stalking off to finish his poor hot chocolate, which has certainly grown stone cold by this point. Once-ler nods to his secretary as he walks by, a distant cousin of his whom never gave a hoot about him until he had become rich and famous. She smiles, flipping her blonde hair back. Maybe he will fire her. She tries too hard to impress him…Like everyone else.
The girl, discouraged and a little frightened, trudges back to her home on the outskirts of the Truffula forest. Three or four, or even five Barbaloots chase after her, captivated by the trailing pink tail of her dress. Her friend, The Lorax, is waiting for her to get back, as he always does.
"Hey, kid," he says, sitting up from his laying position on the grass next to her front door. He cracks his back and sighs in contentment. "How did it go?"
"Meh," she mumbles. Gently, she shoos the little bears away and plops to the grass next to her friend. She curls up into a ball and sniffles. "He noticed me today. But he told me to shut up and go away."
The girl, whose name would be Krickett, is a hippie, an environmental activist, a part-time pacifist, a self-proclaimed Barbaloot whisperer and an umbrella maker. Ever since the Thneed became all the rage she had quit her job making umbrellas, and is currently camping out in the forest, plotting with her new-found best friend, the Guardian of the Trees, a way to stop the Once-ler.
"That's alright, kid," The Lorax says as if soothing a crying child. He pats the top of her head. "That's the best we've done yet. At least he knows you're there now!"
"That's true," Krickett replies, smiling a little toothily. "Maybe we should make picket signs next time!" The girl springs to her feet with renewed vigor. She pumps her fist in the air. "Picketing! That'll show him!" She takes The Lorax's little hand in her own and drags him into her humble abode before he can get a word in. "Let's make some right now! How about…" She tosses him onto the kitchen table, and then runs to the cupboard to grab some markers. "Death to the Thneed!"
"Krickett…I think it's been a long day for you. Running around the forest, playing with the Barbaloots, trying to get Beanpole's attention…" The Lorax rattles on, just as tired as the girl with the time spent waiting up for her.
"Okay." Krickett's face falls and she lands on her back onto her small yet comfy pink bed. "There's gotta be a way we can stop this! We gotta do something…I did make some progress today, but…" Krickett holds her head in her hands and groans loudly.
The Lorax bids her farewell, saying he will be back in the morning to continue their, 'Plotting.'
Yes, I have been pooping out Once-ler stories. Oh well :) Tell me if Krickett is okay. This will not be a Once-ler/OC.