A/N This is a collaboration piece done by Sue Doenym and myself. Our first The Lorax fanfiction. We love the Once-ler!
Disclaimer: We do not own The Lorax or any of it's characters.
Breaking News!
Recent reports state that earlier this evening a three year old was found in the burnt down ruins of his former family home. The blaze is said to have been started by an oven fire. Two victims have been pulled from wreckage and are in critical condition.
This just in: the victims have died! Their last words were "The pancake." No ideas yet as to what that means. What a tragic ending for the young couple. What will the fate of this little boy, their only son, be…
Six Years Later: Horklump's Home for the Wretchedly Rejected
"Get out 'ere at once you 'opeless beanpole!"
I opened my eyes, reluctantly and groped for my shoes. This was my seventy ninth adoption interview in my eight years of residency here. These had been the worst years I ever could have imagined. Scrubbing the floor endlessly so it was always shiny for the interviewing party was just one of our awful tasks. Everything was dusted three times a day, and our clothes washed by hand because it was a good "character builder." Unfortunately it not only wore down the skin on my hands but the clothes on my back as well. I had to darn them frequently but soon there was nothing left to darn and I began to knit my own clothes from scraps of yarn I scavenged from the miscellaneous nooks and crannies I was forced to clean.
I walked out into the spotless corridor, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and slouched through the door frame to see what Madame Horklump wanted. I straightened immediately, seeing that she was with a startled looking couple. I got that look a lot. My arms and legs were so long that they seemed to belong to someone other than a thin boy of nine years old. I always had to wear shorts because there was never enough material to make long pants.
"'Ow nice of you to join us èchalas," she said, her bristly black uni-brow furrowed in frustration at my tardiness and sloppy apparel. "This is Monsieur et Madame Hopkins. Why don't you show them to the lounge?"
"This way," I sighed gesturing to them that they should follow. I really should try to be more enthusiastic, I thought. I t was just hard to be an optimist after so many failed attempts at adoption. I led them along the hallway past several dormitories, the kitchen, and the lavatory before opening the very last door. The ancient hinges creaked ominously as it opened and the automatic lights flickered on revealing a yellow carpeted room with blue walls and out of date furniture. I held the door for them, standing straight , gesturing to the furniture, indicating that they should take a seat any where they like.
After they had settled into a sofa I perched on the edge of an armchair, not expecting this to last very long. "Hello," I began, delivering my usual introductory spiel. "As you may already know, my name is Once-ler, I am nine years old, my favorite color is green, and my favorite food is pancakes."
"Well, nice to meet you… Once-ler? Is there a special meaning for your name?" Mrs. Hopkins timidly inquired. She seemed to be trying to strike up conversation with me while not offending me at the same time. Surprisingly I had not had that question asked often, with kind intentions anyway. Mrs. Hopkins was a genuinely nice person. That was my first impression, and they were usually right with adults. At the first glimpse of Madam Horklump I knew any chance of happiness in her presence would be utterly nonexistent. Mr. Hopkins was sitting slightly uncomfortably seeming to have good character when juxtaposed to the bristly toadstool (my secret name for Madam Horklump). Stop analyzing for a second here and converse, I reprimanded myself, my future was hanging in the balance.
"Um, I don't know. I never had it explained to me as a kid that I can remember and I have never met anyone else with the same name to ask."
"Do you play any sports?"
Typical dad question. No surprise there. "Not really, unless you count knitting as a sport!"
"Um…" At that last comment they seemed to finally really notice my clothes including my knitted socks and shorts. My shirt was only half knitted since there was still some fabric left. I didn't wear these out of choice, especially the segments that had pink or purple yarn but I had to make do with what I could scrounge. If I could choose, eventually I would want to dress like those important people that came in suits to inspect the orphanage every year. They looked like they had everything they wanted, including the power to change things.
"That is a strange interest for a young boy." Mr. Hopkins started. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A successful inventor who changes the world. I want to create something that will help everyone. Something everybody needs."
"That's nice. Does it involve knitting?"
"Of course!" I was getting nervous and excited at the same time. They were asking about my dream but I didn't think they understood my vision. What was so bad about knitting anyways? There's nothing un-manly about knitting!
"Um… Is there anything else you like to do?"
"Not really, what else is there, I mean the only thing we do around here is clean and when we're done with that we clean some more."
Mrs. Hopkin's eyes widened and Mr. Hopkin's eyebrow's shot up so high I thought that they were going to crash right through the roof. ''So you don't ever play sports or anything?"
"I've heard of basketball and seen a little hacky sack but we never actually play anything here."
They were staring at me, disbelief sprawled on their faces. Evidently this was a crime or something. Was it actually against the law to not play a sport? They were getting up. It was over already? I guessed so, so I opened the door for them and escorted them to the main office where the bristly toadstool was waiting. She greeted them with a smile and shut the door in my face, glaring at me through the window. I took the hint and headed down the hall to the dormitory.
I didn't think that had ended too well. It was hard to tell. Sometimes I would feel like it had gone smashingly but then they would decide not to adopt me and hurry from the building after talking to Madame Horklump, gibbering rubbish about the safety of their precious flammable home. It was as if I was cursed.
I opened the cheery yellow door and stepped into the run down gray dormitory. I was empty by this time; everyone was out doing their chores. I walked over to my bunk and sat down on the spring mattress, picking at the fluff sticking through the threadbare fabric. I wasn't in the mood to do any chores at the moment, not that I ever was but today I was feeling especially glum. I decided this was the best time to sneak out and get some fresh air since the bristly toadstool was occupied. Today I did not care about the punishment as all I wanted to do was to get out of there right then.
I would have grabbed my coat to shield myself from the snow outside but that was sort of impossible seeing as no such thing existed in the orphanage unless it belonged to Madame Horklump. So I headed out without any protection whatsoever to trudge my weary way to my destination: the ruins of my original home.