Early the next day, Krickett is up and bustling about her small home, getting out the cardboard and the giant Sharpies and a pointy stick, all while munching on a burnt piece of toast. Anxiously, she awaits The Lorax. Or a Barbaloot, perhaps, just to keep her company and calm her nerves. Krickett is one of those people who hardly ever becomes nervous. How peculiar, she thinks. But the trees! If I don't do something no one else will!
"La la la la laaaa..." Krickett hums, drumming the Sharpie against her knee. After putting her figurative, 'Thinking Cap,' on, the idea strikes her like a vision. "Death to the Thneed!" she proclaims victoriously, crumbs flying from her mouth. Quickly, she writes this on the cardboard in thick, bold letters, using up the Sharpie's ink as well as making herself a little dizzy in the process.
A recycled idea. She had already thought of it the other day, but what does it matter?
Krickett sighs happily, and begins messily taping the, 'Death to the Thneed!' sign to the stick, when a knock at the door distracts her. In fact, it absolutely terrifies her, and by accident the hippie spills her glass of orange juice all over the floor. Luckily, none gets on the picket sign.
Sighing in relief, Krickett rushes to the door to find The Lorax there, a smiley sort of frown on his little fizzy face. "Hey, kid."
"Oh, good morning! Come on in!" Krickett leaves her guest and skips over to the table, waving it around in The Lorax's face before he has barely stepped inside. "See? Do you like it?"
"Get that away from me," he grumbles, shoving past her and making a beeline for the fridge. "Got anything good for breakfast, sweetheart?"
"But...but, my sign," a very rejected-feeling Krickett pleads.
"Oh, that," said The Lorax, closing the fridge door, apparently not finding anything worth eating. He shrugs and smiles encouragingly. "A fine job. That'll show him!"
"Yay!" Krickett bends over and scoops the Forest Guardian into her arms, into a frantic bosom clutch. "I'm so glad. I really hope you're right. This will definitely help something!"
The Lorax does not have it in his heart to tell the young girl the reality of the situation. He knows it nothing will come from the picketing. Nothing good, anyway. Either the Once-ler will shoo her away, leave her be, or something much worse. Of course he doesn't want to tell her of the trouble she could get in. He hopes she is already aware of this and Krickett is very brave, but deep down The Lorax knows it is not true. She is much too naïve for her own good. Just the way Beanpole was, he realizes with a sad sigh.
Krickett feels the sigh against her. She holds him away from herself at arm's length and asks, "What's the matter?"
"Well, first of all, you can help by putting me down," The Lorax sighs.
"'Kay." Krickett does so. "What's bothering you, Mr. Lorax?"
He looks up at her. The sad, pale green eyes, her face in an expression that could only be described as a pout. And he hadn't the heart, so he replies, "Nothing. It's just I get lonely by myself, that's all." The Lorax blinks hard, hoping Krickett won't see through the lie. Well, half a lie. He indeed doesn't want to go with her, for he knows if Beanpole catches sight of him, there will be hell to pay. However, he does not miss the hippie overly much. Especially when she is hyper. He welcomes the break, the time spent alone. Saying so would hurt the little thing's feelings, and he doubts she would ever recover.
"Aww!" Krickett smiles. "That's so nice. I miss you, too."
He is expecting her to ask him to come along with her, but she doesn't, to his relief. He would really be in a pickle then.
"Well, Mr. Lorax, I'll see you in...a while! I've made sure to bring some cookies and some Truffula fruit which tastes like pomegranates. And I have puzzles and my diary so I don't get bored." She gives a thumbs up.
At this, The Lorax honestly has no words other than, "Good luck, kid."
The Once-ler wonders if the girl knows he is watching her. Every now and then he glances up from paperwork or a phone call, or whatever he is busy doing, and there she will be, marching back and forth in front of the gates. A couple of people who have passed by have thrown tomatoes at her. One hit her square in the face, but she kept on going until ten at night. This earns her some respect. Just a little. No one understands that sinking feeling better than he himself.
At first it makes him laugh. Environmentalists. What do they think standing around with signs is truly going to accomplish?
Secondly, however it soon begins to annoy him. The Once-ler hates plenty of things, but he hates nothing more than someone who does not have a Thneed. He really isn't sure if this is true of the hippie, but it must be. Since when did he ever doubt his instincts?
So on the next day the hippie girl shows up, a large tomato stain on the back of her dress, Once-ler takes a freshly knitted Thneed and strolls on into the open air to greet her. Before he leaves he makes sure his hat is straight and his coat is neat, sunglasses polished. He hopes she will be reasonable and not cause him to lose his temper.
He comes up behind her during the most-likely last break of the day. The sun has just set. Rather than leaving the sky a brilliant swirl of yellow and orange, it remains just as dismal and grey as before. She is sitting cross-legged on the grass, chewing peacefully on a large peanut butter cookie.
"Good morning," he says, suppressing a cough, hands folded behind his back.
The girl's shoulders visibly jump, and the cookie nearly flies from her grip. She scrambles to her feet, stuffing the rest of it in her mouth. Awkwardly, she lifts the corner of her dress and bows slightly. "G-good morning," she replies, swallowing thickly.
"Hehehe."
"What?"
The Once-ler grins, a sly sort of smile that makes Krickett very uneasy. She isn't sure what is worse-the smile or the chuckle. "Why would you say, 'Good morning,'" he says, "when you and me both know it's the evening?"
"I don't know, Mr. O-once-ler. I'm sorry." Krickett curses herself for sounding so nervous, and curses herself again for beingnervous.
He steps closer, whipping out a bright pink Thneed from behind his back. Krickett blinks as he begins the routine. Just like clockwork. Its charm had been lost quite a while ago. "You need a Thneed! A Thneed is a fine thing that all people need! It's a-"
"Mr. Once-ler I don't want a Thneed," Krickett interrupts the display, her voice braver than intended. She stands on her tiptoes, an attempt at appearing taller, as the businessman towers above her, taller by at least a head and a half.
As suspected. The Once-ler sighs loudly, tossing the Thneed over his shoulder. Unbeknownst to Krickett, the Once-ler is not a very agile human being, and he nearly almost laughs at his success, the item actually staying in place. "Then what can I do for you, hmm?" He leans down slightly, getting a better look at her scared, pale little face.
"Um," the girl sputters. "I-I-think..." At a loss for words, Krickett bends to pick up her 'Death to the Thneed!' picket sign. She points to it and nods enthusiastically.
"Death to the Thneed..." Once-ler mumbles. His eye twitches. Faster than anyone Krickett has ever seen, he snatches the sign from her hands, promptly snapping it into two.
A hand flies to her mouth in absolute shock at the action. Krickett takes multiple steps away, frightened by the glint in his eye. The Once-ler takes a deep breath, straightens his tie, adjusts his glasses, and tips his hat to her, like a gentleman. As if nothing unusual just occurred. He strides up to her, and Krickett's feet are glued to the ground. Almost gently pats the top of her pink hair. He tssks, and shakes his head back and forth. "Don't come back," he says, and then walks away, back into the Thneed factory, green pinstripes billowing behind him.
