Beep beep. Beep beep. The melodious song of my alarm clock blared beside me, the mere volume of the sound shaking the nightstand. With squinted eyes, I fumbled around in the darkness for my glasses. I pushed them up the bridge of my nose and looked at the time. Six in the morning. Whoopdedoo.
Silencing the noisy device, I stood, running a hand through my messy (h/c) locks. I hadn't intended to get up this early, especially on a Saturday! I hadn't intended to get up this early, especially on a Saturday! I thought to myself tiredly.
For the past few weeks, I'd been working tirelessly to care for my truffula farm. These eerie-looking clouds have been floating by lately, and all of the neighboring farmers down south have been warning me about the killing of trees.
"'Truffula tree killings? Who would do something like that?" I had asked a now unemployed harvester. He was silent for a second, palms damp and eyes darting left to right. Gulping hard, he cracked.
"J-Just look out for a man in green, okay? The man in green," he repeated, and then quickly ran away. Weirdo. I shrugged off his warning and got back to work. Worry is only for those who can afford it, and I definitely didn't have a dime to spare.
Yawning, I changed into normal daily outfit: a black and red checkered shirt, worn overalls, and knee-high fishing boots. To say I looked drop-dead gorgeous is an obvious lie, but I wouldn't say I looked crappy, either; a few guys in the past have even called me kinda cute…Then again, they were at gunpoint… Whatever, the point is I looked rather roughed-up. But it didn't really matter: there were trees that needed harvesting. Tying my hair back in a pony-tail, I flung my screen door open and strode into the fields, a basket of tools at my side.
"Graaaaaciiie~ Gracie, where are you?" Weaving through the truffula plants, I called the name of my little pet bar-ba-loot. Originally, I had purchased her to chase away the *sneeches that threatened my land (Those darned cretins haven't left me yet!), but as the years went by, I grew more and more attached to the little fuzz ball. She was usually out roaming the meadows and wreaking havoc at the crack of dawn, so it was only natural for her to be out.
But she didn't respond. No call or anything. Thinking she was probably out messing with the humming-fish again, I decided to tend to the other trees. She'd turn up sooner or later anyway, no need to stress about it.
I kneeled down at the foot of my oldest truffula tree, noting with awe how despite its age, the stripes were as vibrant as ever. With an expert eye, I inspected how full and wispy the blue tufts were. Ready for harvesting, I mused. Reaching into my bag, I retrieved rubber gloves and hedge clippers. Slipping on the gloves, I snipped away at the tree with the clippers, careful to catch the tufts in the basket. I couldn't help but grin like a doofus while I worked.
The other farmers didn't know it, but truffula tufts could be used for several good things: In medicine, for slings, even as underwear! And the way I cut them allowed the beautiful trees to continue living without harm. Just that thought brought a smile to my face. By the time I was finished, a skinny, bare truffula was left in the other's place.
Just as I was moving on to the next one, Gracie bounded up to me, **barking like mad. Lowering the clippers, I met her halfway, petting her head comfortingly.
"What's wrong, girl?" Eyes like saucers, Gracie shook violently, clinging onto my leg. The look she was giving me suggested that something was out there just wasn't right, and whatever it was, it scared the hairs off of the poor little bar-ba-loot. Bundling the creature up in my arms, I made my way toward the direction Gracie had come from. Anything that could scare my little pal had to go.
I had to go down a hill, to the very edge of my property. I noticed with mild anger that the more I descended, the blurrier my specs got. The stench of smog permeated my clothes and lungs, almost to the point of making me cough. Whoever's doing this is straight up disgusting! I soon approached a large, gas-guzzling super truck, a hat-clad man sitting cross-legged beside it. Any other day, it would have been semi-normal. This was no ordinary man, however.
Along with his fashionable magician's hat, he wore a green suit with matching gloves, as well as a rather expensive-looking pair of boots, much more pricey than mine. He also had this silky, ebony hair that fell freely over his eyes, which were a bright green as well. He wore a down-in-the-dumps frown, but judging by his tell-tale dimples, I could tell he often smiled. All around, he was quite the looker.
As I stepped closer to him, Gracie began to squirm, pure terror evident in her eyes. With much protest, she finally sprung from my arms, running to the safety of our home. The fancy stranger looked up at me, eyes half lidded and bloodshot, as if he had sat there crying all night long. At the sight of me, he quickly stood to his feet and dusted himself off, occasionally wiping at his rapidly-blushing face.
I crossed my arms and stood completely erect in an attempt to make myself look more intimidating. Handsome or not, this guy had freaked out my buddy, and that's just unacceptable!
"Hey there, oily stranger!" I began, taking a few somewhat confident steps forward. "You kinda spooked my little friend back there, so I had to come check you out…I-I don't mean that in, like, a pervy way or anything! I-I mean…" I sputtered desperately for something to say, my cheeks getting warmer every second.
The man chuckled, though it looked more depressed and bitter than it sounded. Finally, I found the right words to say.
"Who are you, and what are you doing on my land?"
The traces of a smirk grew on his features as he brought his oh-so-mysterious hat down to his chest and bowed lowly. Taking my (s/c) hand in his gloved one, he kissed the top, not taking his eyes away from mine. Staring at my astounded face, he chuckled.
"Call me Onceler."
~O~
After that…interesting introduction, Onceler and I went in to my house to talk things over some hot coco. As I rifled through my cupboards for clean china, he sat in a wicker chair beside a window. He mostly looked around, though I noticed his gaze would occasionally sweep to the view of the truffulas outside.
Balancing two cups of hot chocolate on a dinged-up platter, I took a seat across from him, handing him his beverage. He muttered a quiet thanks and looked back to the trees, only stopping to take a sip every few seconds. This guy…he was so confident out there, now he's all quiet…What's up with him?
"Well, Oncie," he cringed slightly at my nickname for him, "what brings you to my humble abode?" Bringing his hands up on top of the table, he twiddled his thumbs, making that depressed frown again.
"Nothin' much. Just realizing how much I screwed up the lives of millions," he sighed. Ouch. Sounds like whatever this guy did really sucked. Despite my desire to laugh off his misfortune, my maternal instincts kicked in.
Leaning toward him slightly, I tried to look into his bright eyes and smiled. "C'mon, man. I'm sure whatever you've been through isn't that bad, and even if it is, all you gotta do is move on: I'm sure someone's done something way worse in the past anyway."
What I intended to be an eye-opening moment went unnoticed as he shook his head slowly, an almost pained expression on his face. All of my reasoning was abolished with these four words:
"I killed the trees."
Woah. To think that the mass tree-murderer that I'd heard so much about the past year was sitting a mere five feet away from me…Suddenly, it clicked. What that farmer had been telling me about…this was the infamous 'man in green'? It was kinda hard to see to be honest. How could someone who looked so innocent be so sinister? Don't judge a book by its cover, I reminded myself.
"I was just a dreamer," he continued, eyes glued to the window, "an inventor, moreover. I wanted to make something that everyone on earth could use: the thneed. It really is quite remarkable, if I do say so myself. The only problem is…it needs truffula tufts to be made."
He then continued to tell me about the Lorax and his whole UNLESS predicament. The whole time, I listened to him in an amazed silence, nodding and occasionally putting in my own two cents. To think that all of this had happened to him, yet he's been left so clueless…truly devastating.
"I've done all of this…these truly evil deeds, and have nothing to show for it. Now, I don't know what I'll do," he confided with a sigh. The room went dead silent for a while, the only sound being the steady clicking of the clock and my own heartbeat. Man, this was turning into a pity party…
Onceler's frown turned upward a bit as he changed the conversation. "I see you're a tree farmer. It's a wonder you haven't gone out of business like the others," he said looking again at the truffulas contorting slightly in the wind.
I couldn't help but puff my chest out in pride. "Me? Go out of business? Puh-lease! It's because I do things a whole lot differently than those other chumps!" A small smile graced the Onceler's lips as he willingly looked at me for the first time that morning. "Really? How's that?" He asked in apparent curiosity.
"Truffula trees are used for their bark as well as their tufts: everyone knows that. But there are already so many people that use bark it's not even funny. We use'em in chairs, tables, houses, pencils—even in some dentures!" I gestured to my whole house throughout the rant, to which he nodded agreeably.
"The one thing that people often forget about is the tufts, and then they just have a whole bunch of tree stumps and furniture. What I do is grow the trees and—check this—harvest the tufts! It doesn't kill the trees, which means a butt-load of fresh air, and materials that can be crafted into virtually anything!"
The Onceler's eyes widened greatly at my explanation, but the expression left as quickly as it came. Wearing an unreadable expression, he stood, thanked me for the drink, and walked out my front door…WHAT!?
I sat completely still in my seat for awhile, still staring at the seat he had been occupying just seconds ago. In all honesty, I had been going through a blur of emotions since his departure. I was angry that he'd left me without a reason, yet I was also really saddened by it. He didn't have to go through all of this…If he had just figured out how to harvest. If only...If only I had met you before….
My train of thought was interrupted by an ear-splitting shriek from the valley. Grabbing a coat, I dashed out the front door, following the sounds of what I guessed was a woman's call for help. Coming to where the Onceler's truck was parked, I saw something that made me want to laugh hysterically and piss myself at the same time:
Gracie's 300-pound father was sitting in the driver's seat—his mouth is full of marshmallows, mind you—and he was swiping and growling playfully at the Onceler, who had his butt stuck in the window…. WTF much?
It took all of my strength not to keel over in laughter. Putting on my game face, I knew I had to calm down the bar-ba-loot before I even thought about doing anything else. Making small, quiet steps, I made my way over to the beast, softly stroking his mangy fur.
"Hey there, big guy! Long time, no see," I cooed, to which he nodded amiably. "Say, you think you could get outta my new pal's truck? He's a bit of a knucklehead, but I think he's had enough punishment already."
The bulky bar-ba-loot stared at me blankly for a second, then looked to a frantically-squirming Onceler, smiled, and got out of the truck, the contraption screeching in protest of the lost weight. He landed on the ground with a thump, gave me one last knowing glance, and waddled his way into the forest. Great, I just had one job left: pull the Onceler out of the open truck window. Wait…which side do I pull?
Uh-oh. It looked like I had a few options:
1. Pull him by the hindquarters. I'd get the best grip there, and dang, what a view!
2. Pull him by his arms. It could work, but I might dislocate his shoulders.
3. Pull him by his calves. It would definitely work, but he'd probably end up sitting on me when I popped him out…I no likey.
It seemed like choice one was the most probable. Blushing furiously, I stood behind him.
"H-Hey, dude. I'm gonna get you out soon, but you need to stay still. Just…bear with me hear, alright?" He obeyed my wish, going borderline limp after I asked. Taking a deep breath, I seized him by his slender hips and pulled. Looking back now, I'm pretty sure my hands were shaking like mad as I heaved him through. When the truck door finally gave, the Onceler flew backwards into my lap, and boy, was he a sight.
His formerly spiffy and pristine suit was sullied and disheveled, along with his hair and practically everything else on him. When he realized how close he was to me, he immediately scooted a few feet away, his breaths irregular and his face beat-red. Then again, he might've just been mirroring my actions.
"T-Thanks…"he said, trying to compose himself enough to stand to his feet. I snapped myself out of infatuation mode and stood to my feet, offering him a hand. "The name's _," I said with a genuine smile. Blinking rapidly, as if to snap himself out of some feeling as well, he took my hand and pulled himself to his feet. If I heard correctly, he repeated my name under his breath, as if to remember it. Like it was of importance.
I cleared my throat and turned to him, realizing what he had intended to do when he got in the truck in the first place: Leave.
"So…where are you going now?" I asked, trying in vain to not sound disappointed. "I don't know, really," he answered truthfully, looking to the truck's large wheels.
"I don't think I can call what I came from a home, and I'd die before I went back to my mother's place." I couldn't fight with that logic. From what he told me, his mother was a total ***wazbag.
I looked at the ground, suddenly very intrigued with the rocks in the ground. C'mon, _! It's now or never! I bit my lip and turned to look at the Onceler. "H-Hey, if you don't have anywhere to be right now, you could always…y'know…crash at my place?" It came out more of a question than a proposition, and I was about ready to explode. For real? I'm that bad with human interaction?
I quickly spit out some apologies and 'if you don't want tos' and all that great stuff, when this guy starts laughing at me. And this is no bitter laugh like the others; it was a genuine, tinkling laugh that made me want huggle him to oblivion. He's so gosh-darn cute!
"You'll really let me stay?" he said, a hint of hope in his voice. I nodded happily. He smiled his heartwarming smile and enveloped me into a hug, one that I remember vividly each day. After a few seconds of the warm embrace however, it got really freaking awkward and we backed up a bit in embarrassment.
"Thank you so much for this, _. It really means a lot to me."
"No prob, beanpole! Hey, I might even be able to teach you a few things about the truffulas," I replied. We walked back toward the house side by side, a newfound friendship resounding deeply in each of our hearts.
And I don't think I'd have it any other way.
Hello, interwebs! I recently watched the Lorax on Netflix and completely fell in love with the Onceler!
He's just so lovable!
Anyway, I'm known mostly for my Hetalia fics, but I plan on writing a few more Lorax-themed stories, so to the people already in the Onceler fandom, consider this a peace offerng of sorts from the anime fandom.
Well, please comment and tell me if I got his character right or not.
*Sneeches are these long-nosed, yellow bird creatures from another Dr. Seuss book.
**Do bar-ba-loots bark? Do they talk? Meh?
***The term 'wazbag' originally came from iCarly, but it had been an inside joke with my siblings waaaay before that. It's basically equivalent to a bladder. Eeeeeyup.
Stay beautiful, mah friends.