There. I finally got the second half of this story finished. Took longer than I expected because arranging all the concepts I wanted to explore/develop within required a good deal of work. Anyway, where I found in hindsight that the first chapter had a bit of a comical edge to it, this one is undoubtedly quite depressing. But when you consider what the Once-ler did, and what resulted from it, what else can you expect?
Pipsqueak's father was about the only inhabitant of the forested valley aside from the Lorax who had not lavished the Once-ler with unconditional trust, and actually trumped the guardian when it came to not really liking the guy either – though of course that was not one of those things that was ever stated out loud. It was something one just knew.
He suspected the man was bad news when he started unloading his wagon the day he arrived. The vote was unanimous that there was nothing to be pleased about, when those threatening nick-knacks of his had been flung here and there, he not even seeming to regard what he was doing. The father Bar-ba-loot, however, had been the first to attack him; he was not going to let this odd animal endanger his son or his mate, or any of their friends while they were at it. And yes, those white sweets the Once-ler presented as a peace offering had distracted everyone, but that "forgive and forget" vote would not be made unanimous on just a bold-faced bribe.*
Obviously the Bar-ba-loot's infamous jealousy of the Once-ler's increasingly paternal bond with Pipsqueak had denied that mistrust a fair chance to wind down with the passing of time. It didn't help that Pipsqueak remained decidedly embittered towards his father after that day no one in the little family wanted to discuss. Not that Pipsqueak could ever behave in a bitter way, of course, he was just too sweet, no pun intended. It remained so, however, that since that day there had been a palpable coolness between father and cub, more-so from the latter; where before he'd just been too focused on his new idol to pay regard to his father, he now purposely sought to avoid him. To say that hurt was like dismissing a lightning strike as no more damaging than stubbing one's paw on a rock.
He'd asked over and over in his mind why the man had to spend so much time with the cub. There was that nice little woman with the curly brown hair, who sometimes visited him, and whom he acted ostensibly flirtatious with; why couldn't they just take each other and have their own offspring?* Why did the Once-ler feel the need to take Pipsqueak away like that? Why?
Still, no matter how many unanswered questions, or how many awkward persuasions went into it, as far as father and son were concerned, it was as if Pipsqueak had indeed drifted away with the Once-ler that night, and never returned. At least his relationship with his mother had not suffered through it all, but then, why would it? She had never been abrasive about the matter, she was always somehow able to be understanding and patient with their son, always somehow balancing supporting his friendship with the Once-ler with encouraging his friendship with his own father. But the male just could never be like that. Where his mate was prepared to make the best of most situations, he was just too impassioned about what he perceived as unfair. This most certainly was unfair. And the worst part was, as he came to find out, this wasn't even the level at which it was set to stop.
He could almost laugh derisively at that phrase, "How bad can I (possibly) be?", which seemed to have become one of the Once-ler's preferred mantras over time. "How unfair can I possibly be/make this situation" was by far more appropriate. Hypnotizing the flesh-and-blood segment of the ecosystem into fawning over him hadn't been enough for the man. Nor had stealing the love of a couple's precious only son. No, these had only been sugar-coated implications on his part, his ways of worming himself into a comfortable establishment in the forest, so he could focus on what had really been important to him all along.
Even more outrageous was his brilliant way of copping out of the solemn oath he'd taken, the Lorax and so many of the animals bearing witness, that he would not cut down any more of the trees in the forest just to make those – thneeds. Remembering all these funny names of these funny things the Once-ler had brought into their world with himself had never been a priority for Pipsqueak's father, but some had inevitably succeeded in penetrating his memory. Anyway, so the guy promises, hand on heart, that he won't do it any more, and then calls his family in to do the dirty work for him. Very clever.
The Lorax had many times explained, or tried to explain, to both the Once-ler and to the forest animals about the significant consequences of deforestation, but unsurprisingly the human had turned a deaf ear to the lecturing, and the other animals had been too naive to take it fully to heart. Not that they completely disregarded it, but they refused to believe the nice young man would ever go so far as to cause a natural disaster just to fulfill these ambitions of his which remained a foreign concept to them.
Well, Pipsqueak's parents had listened, at least. It wasn't like they could combat the circumstances, but riding with them was as easy as it could be when they knew what to expect. Even when the others finally clued in and began to follow suit, however, it was not long before things got so out of hand that "riding with it" could not keep them going much more. The more trees disappeared, the less food and shelter was available, which was especially hard on the Bar-ba-loots. Then there was the smogulous smog clogging the atmosphere, and the schloppity-schlop and gluppity-glup poisoning the water, which were especially hard on the Swomee Swans and Humming Fish, but every blow this "factory"-thing of the Once-ler's delivered the forest sent everyone within reeling.
Even while he, his family, and his friends were being slowly starved, dehydrated, and suffocated to death by the greedy, cold hearted man who'd pretended to be their friend long ago, what infuriated Pipsqueak's father most was that their son so frankly refused to see the man for what he really was. As this business of his had progressed, he'd gradually ceased to devote portions of his time throughout the day to Pipsqueak or any of the animals. No one could remember the last time they'd seen one of those white treats, or the last time the Once-ler had engaged in a comical song-and-dance routine with any of them. He didn't need to hold their interest any longer, and so they held no more for him either. But not in Pipsqueak's eyes. Not for the longest time.
/
When it came to possessing an irrational optimism, Pipsqueak easily beat the Once-ler at his own game. It perplexed the cub that as time went on, the other animals developed a steady disdain for their friend, the occasional cursing of his name being uttered as things grew worse for them. It was enough of a shock that such rage could be sparked amongst the normally blithe creatures, so rare was the occasion on which that occurred. But to direct their ire against the man they'd always had so much fun with!
He usually avoided others when they were saying such things, and so remained under the idealistic impression that it was not at the permissive hand of the Once-ler himself that the disastrous death of their forest was taking place, for much longer than most. The Once-ler hadn't forgotten about them, in his belief, it was just that this thing he was doing kept him so busy he couldn't come out to play with them. Pipsqueak didn't like that, but he could understand it. Work had never been an overwhelming occupant of the creatures' time, but occasionally it had to be done, and during those times the policy was "work before play". Obviously for humans work somehow took up a lot more time, and the Once-ler should be pitied, not condemned for that!
Pipsqueak was actually kind of glad that the Once-ler was away from them so much of the time, indoors more often than not. Maybe just like how his old home had kept out the rain long ago, this gigantic building he now seemed to live in kept out the filth in the atmosphere? Pipsqueak didn't understand how this horrible decline in the region's habitability came about, but it was bad enough seeing all his friends and family out here suffering with him. He wouldn't want the Once-ler to be subjected to this as well.
He worried about the human almost obsessively. He seemed to be the only one who still cared about him. No one else wondered if the man was faring any better than they were. Was the building able to protect him from the smog? What if it wasn't, and the Once-ler had to live in fear of merely sleeping, should he choke to death in the process? Was he as hungry as the animals were? What if those marshmallows and pancakes had disappeared along with the fruit from the trees? The animals tried to support each other as a community as best as they could, with whatever they could scrounge, but the thought of their coldly ignoring the Once-ler's needs, while he may be wasting away from hunger like the rest of them angered Pipsqueak.
The little cub longed to break away from the crowd, just long enough to head to that factory and check up on his old friend, and hopefully bring a ration of food to him if it could be obtained. His parents kept him close by at all times, however, and even when he tried to bring it up with Uncle Lorax,* the guardian had advised him against it. That befuddled him, as he was certain that, in his own grumpy way, the Lorax liked the Once-ler deep down, but even he was shunning him now?
"He's doing just fine, believe me," the Lorax had said, an unpleasant undertone to his words, gently as they were spoken for the sake of the cub.
"Well then, why can't I go see him?" Pipsqueak had probed. "I miss him, Uncle Lorax. And he must miss all of us too, it's been so long!"
"...Well, maybe a part of him does," The Lorax muttered after a while, glancing wistfully in the direction of the factory. Obviously that side to his nature had fallen out of power, if it still survived at all. Common sense would dictate that the little cub should be brought to realize this, but the guardian was reluctant to burst his bubble; in the first place Pipsqueak probably wouldn't believe him, and may even throw a tantrum if an attempt to persuade him that there was even a moderately ominous bone in the Once-ler's body was made. There could only be troublesome repercussions as a result of that. Secondly, despite the impracticality he didn't like the thought of taking away the cub's mental innocence like that. In a crazy way, Pipsqueak's view of the human through metaphorical rose-coloured glasses seemed one of the last standing remnants of what had once been. He would have to face the facts eventually, but for now at least, the Lorax felt it could wait.
"Uncle Lorax?" Pipsqueak asked when the ancient creature seemed to have trailed off.
"Look, it's just not a good idea, Pip," The Lorax finalized.
"Okay, but don't you still see him sometimes?"
The Lorax sighed. "Yeah, but not as often as I used to. It just... never seems to change anything."
Pipsqueak sensed the Lorax wasn't telling him something, but he stayed focused on his purpose. "Well, if you go see him again, will you tell him I said hi?"
Chuckling, the old creature ruffled the cub's fur. "Yeah, I'll tell him that."
"And give him this?" Pipsqueak then handed him a somewhat wilted fruit from one of the still uncut trees. It was the first one he'd acquired in a terribly long while, and his stomach clenched at the thought of giving it away, but it was only fair that the human be fed as well.
The guardian was wide-eyed with disbelief for a moment, but then rolled his eyes. "Bar-ba-loots," he muttered, but fondly, and then said, "You're a real trooper, Pipsqueak, but you need to eat that yourself. And don't worry about Beanpole, he gets more than enough to keep him going."
As yet another pang hit the cub's stomach, he gave in and devoured the morsel himself. He could relax a bit, knowing now that his friend would not suffer from the crummies as well, but the guardian's words left him puzzled. If the Once-ler was somehow able to work around this famine, why wasn't he trying to help everyone else?
/
Pipsqueak's father never would have asked for it to turn out like this. He had wanted his son back, proverbially speaking, but not in this way. He wanted his son to be bright, healthy and chipper for one thing, like he'd been before, instead of weak, sickly and utterly devastated. He wanted him to come running into his arms with some rendition of the phrase, "I love you, Papa!", but now...
The parents had felt a repeat of their fear from the river incident when Pipsqueak had suddenly vanished from the huddled crowds of the forest creatures. They'd notified the Lorax, insisting those strong enough be organized into search parties, but he simply stated, grimly, that he knew where the cub had gone, and he'd take care of it.
They'd waited anxiously, worrying and wondering, until the Lorax finally returned with their son. At any rate, what he brought them sort of resembled Pipsqueak, but the cub was a shell of himself. His father noticed, where that dreamy-eyed quality had been ever since the Once-ler had first shown up, was nothing but a blank, haggard, haunting gleam of trauma. It was a terrible sight on such a young little thing. What had happened?
Pipsqueak's mother immediately embraced her son, trying to coax an explanation out of him, but the cub remained wordless, barely even acknowledging the warmth of her hug. The Lorax then explained the gist of it to them: Pipsqueak had determinedly set off for the factory, desperate to see the Once-ler again. As it happened, the Once-ler was engaged in an interview with the press about the approach his factory took to the maintenance of the ecosystem, and he'd been suavely brushing the issues under the rug, which meant that he was acting like he wasn't letting the problem get out of hand when in fact he was, as they knew.
Pipsqueak, finding him, had joyously rushed over to him, arms open to hug the man around his ankles, but the Once-ler, upon taking notice, merely used him for his argument, placing him before the press and exaggeratedly fondling him to assure them he "cared" for the creatures. As soon as they were convinced, he'd dropped Pipsqueak like a hot brick, which meant he'd just put him down and forgotten about him.*
Pipsqueak was confused, naturally, and so pursued the Once-ler back into the factory, hoping to regain his attention. He'd gotten as far along as the hallway leading to the Once-ler's office before finally catching up with the man and tugging on the leg of his trousers. The Once-ler was at first irritated, and snapped an impatient "What?", which had stunned the cub. As recognition set in, he seemed to receive the cub more warmly, until his mother had entered the hall, returning to her station after a short break. She'd freaked out at the sight of one of the "filthy varmints" from the outside having gotten into her son's nice clean factory, and insisted he be thrown out. After a moment's hesitation, her son had complied, and seen to Pipsqueak's removal from the premises himself.
Back in the present, Pipsqueak seemed to come around as the heartbreaking climax of the account was reached, and started to well up. The Lorax, seeing this, hurried things up by simply stating that the Once-ler's dismissal had been more than a bit shy of apologetic. That was when the Lorax had found Pipsqueak, still standing outside, still trying to call out to the Once-ler. The only response they waited around long enough to hear was that cruel mother of his telling one of her other sons to get out a rifle if that racket didn't stop. The guardian had quickly ushered the cub away at that point.
Pipsqueak whimpered as salty beads of water tumbled from his eyes.
"I'm sorry, kid," The Lorax said, sadly. "I tried to warn ya."
"Oh, Pipsqueak," his mother sighed, her heart aching for her son.
His father stood by, taking it all in. The horrible way his son had been treated, how his tender love and trust had been brutally smashed into smithereens, the soul-crushed cub he'd been reduced to. Anger boiled inside the adult male; if he'd only resented the Once-ler before, he downright hated him now. If he had to choose, he could have pressed on with the jealousy of knowing his cub favoured the man over him, but for the man to treat a little one who loved him so dearly like a manifestation of the gluppity-glup his own factory was responsible for inflicting on the valley! The worst part was, there was not a thing he could do about it. If they'd treated a baby cub so harshly for coming onto the premises, it would end no better for an adult, especially one lusting for vengeance.
No. There was one thing he could do. And if he cleared his mind enough to really think about it, it was the only thing he, as a father, needed to do.
As Pipsqueak buried his face into his mother's chest, letting the fractures of his heart out, he felt a paw come to rest gently on his shoulder, from behind. Raising his head, he turned around and peered at his father's face. There was none of the anger he'd so desperately evaded the sight of all this time, none of the tension. Just sorrow and sympathy, and the offering of fatherly compassion. And with that the wall of ice was ploughed down. The cub softly pulled out of his mother's arms, wrapping his own around his father. The Lorax and the mother both smiled, sadly but surely, glad that at least one of the rents which had been formed by the Once-ler's enterprise was now on the mend.
That night, as had come to be the norm, there was a tear-jerking sound of crying baby animals from all throughout the youth of the Bar-ba-loot, Swomee Swan and Humming Fish population. The crying of sick, hungry children, desperately trying to choke each breath they could get from the stifling air. The one cub who had never cried in all of this despair, the one who'd brave faced it all based on a fantastic perception, now pierced the heavy atmosphere with wailing which made the rest seem a commedia dell'arte performance. But tenderly, his father clung to him throughout the night, consoling him to the best of his ability.
/
All the animals felt for the heartbroken little Bar-ba-loot. Even in the midst of the distraught bind they were in, his endearingly blind cheerfulness had been, for a lot of them, the one thing that kept them going.
He never spoke about what happened at the factory, and if it hadn't been for the Lorax, even his parents wouldn't have known. But it was all too clear, with or without the details, that whatever had taken place, something in him died that day. Once happy, playful, adventurous and outgoing, he was now meek, sombre, and seemed unable to bear the thought of straying away from the others. The further into the heart of his circle of family and friends he was embedded, the better.
Compared to the others, Pipsqueak met the news that the final tree had been whacked with a blunt numbness. Even though he'd come to realize the connection between the removal of the trees and the failing health of the environment, he'd simply bowed his head and taken both his parents' paws in his. As if they needed even more comforting than he did. At least that much of the Pipsqueak they loved so well was still alive.
When the Lorax informed the animals that they needed to evacuate the land in search of more promising grounds, Pipsqueak took the dismal news with an admirably mature resolve. When the animals began their nomadic trek out of the wasteland they'd once called their flourishing home, passing by the vile factory, he did not even glance up. The sting of that memory would never leave him, but he didn't want to risk tearing up at a time when he needed to be strong for his family.
He forced himself to ignore the Once-ler, standing nearby the stream of animals, staring on. The Lorax was explaining to him about the animals' departure. He was calling out; Pipsqueak gathered he was calling to his donkey, Melvin, who had sided with the forest inhabitants. Then, he heard his name called.
Reluctantly, he acknowledged the man he had cared so much for. Hadn't he hurt him enough? Oh. He was offering him a marshmallow. Just a bribe. His father was right. It sure looked good, and it made his mouth water the more he stared at it, but what would it be saying if he accepted it? That all was forgiven? But it wasn't. The Once-ler had lied to him, and had then cold-heartedly shrugged him off when the deceit held nothing more for him. Pipsqueak would never forgive him. Never.
Forcefully disregarding the hurt on the man's face at his rejection, which he may have seen was indeed sincere had he looked back long enough, Pipsqueak turned away, never to set eyes on the human again. As the man and his detestable monstrosity of a building shrank away with the growing distance, Pipsqueak made his way to his parents through the crowd, having drifted away a bit through focusing solely on the pattern of putting one paw in front of the other. Catching up with his father, he grasped the older Bar-ba-loot's paw in his, looking up at him from the side and smiling quietly. His father returned the gesture and tightened their grasp. The Once-ler had taken many things away from them, but the one thing he could not steal was the bond of father and son.
The end.
AN: And that is that. I misted over, myself, while I was writing the last two sections of this chapter. Perhaps I should elaborate on those asterisks, to perk myself up again:
1. Of course, we the audience know the Once-ler grabbed the marshmallows by mistake, but in Pipsqueak's father's eyes it was a calculated attempt to win everyone over.
2. That was simply a cutaway insert to reinforce the choice of title for this fanfic, but for those interested, the woman I spoke of is supposed to be Grammy Norma. I am one of those who ship the Norma-ler pairing; it just makes sense to me.
3. I figured that since the Lorax referred to himself that way when trying to rescue Pipsqueak, that the cub would come to address him in like manner.
4. You may perhaps have guessed that this concept comes from part of the montage from the musical number, "How Bad Can I Be?" I thought there might be an interesting back-story behind that specific scene, and so tried my hand at it.
