-The Three Strike-Point-Flag System-
A Lorax Fanfic Series by Digitaldreamer
IV: Points for Craft Days and Sing-a-longs (Or Point for Attention Whoring, But Only 'Cause You Smiled)
Got another one done pretty fast since the internet was down at lunch today. Whooo~!
And this one is actually my favorite one thus far. I've always had a soft spot for somewhat gruff characters like the Lorax, so it was pretty fun to get into his head and see the Once-ler through his eyes. But above all else, I just love writing attention whore Once-ler- because he is, let's face it.
Hope you guys enjoy it! Please tell me what you thank!
The kid was all right. The Lorax would never say it, but well, that wasn't exactly news either. Sure there were issues, there always were, but he supposed in the end it didn't matter. The kid had potential, and what kind of nature spirit could ignore that?
But oh, there were issues.
For instance, The Lorax did not understand the man's enthusiasm for those stupid vests and the constant offerings of marshmellows in place of proper apologies was downright aggravating. His inventions were pointless at best and annoying at the worst, and the whole mess with the "Mustache-ifier 3000" business with the chicken had just been confusing. The Lorax had drawn the line around when his self-appointed charge had whipped a pair of thick-rimmed glasses out of seemingly nowhere, because no, the glasses look stupid and so do you so shut up and let me sleep.
Of course, there were good things as well. The Lorax couldn't deny that that the young man was capable of a startling amount of generosity when he wasn't tied up in his own ambitions, and he'd appreciated the extra hands during the sudden rainstorm that had sent them all diving for the tent and the warm safety of hot cocoa. He also couldn't deny the whole waterslide thing had been a hit amongst the animals, and as much as he found all the blind optimism irritating, he had to admit it was inspiring. You know, if you needed inspiration for doing something impossibly stupid like jumping in front of a charging bar-ba-loot.
The thing that annoyed him most, funnily enough, hadn't been any of those sweeping character flaws or one of the Once-ler's many misguided attempts to make something of himself. No, the bit that irritated him most was something seemingly small, a thing that was intrinsically tied to the young man's very core.
Because you see, The Once-ler would do anything if it meant he could get someone to look at him for more than two seconds.
Every step was a show with him and there was simply no denying or avoiding it. He danced and hummed when he made pancakes, flipped them in the air and caught them like some sort of long-limbed striped circus monkey. He sought out whomever would lend an ear for his inventions, brilliant blue eyes dimming the instant he spotted the tell-tale glaze of a bored audience. He contorted his long body like a gymnast as he worked, peppered his speech with charming smiles, compliments and rapidfire jokes in something like a plea. It was kind of sad, really.
Of course, it was hard to feel pity when a certain long-limbed, fedora-wearing idiot came prancing through the hills with the first beams of sunrise, hollering out a positively ridiculous tune and clearly over the moon with his animal back up. There was little the Lorax could do besides force the tent window open and snarl out into the chaos.
"RED FLAG, Beanpole! You idiots cut tha' out, it's six in the morning for cripes sake!" He exclaimed before tugging the tent window flap shut with all the force one could manage with canvas- which is to say, not a lot. The beast was well aware his words were all bark and no bite- there was no stopping a sing-a-long when the Once-ler got the animals started. He could certainly try though.
And oh, he did try. It wasn't that the Lorax hated music- on the contrary, he was quite the fan of some of the older folk songs he'd heard from travelers back in the day. However, sometimes nature deserved to be heard on its own merits without singing from the shower at four AM.
It wasn't like the songs were inherently bad. On the contrary, some were downright catchy. But the Lorax certainly wasn't about to admit it, because he knew damn well what all that showmanship was for. He appreciated the cooking, the inventions and the help, but he knew the source and wasn't about to encourage it.
With that in mind, it was hard to not feel a few reservations when the Lorax roused from his afternoon snooze to hear a chorus of giggles. The creature frowned, brow furrowing even as his eyes remained shut against the warmth of the sun.
"Hey, hey, don't move!"
Now the Lorax was definitely frowning, furry lips pressed into a scowl. "What're you up to, Beanpole?" He growled as he cracked open one green eye.
He found himself blinking blearily at the sight of the inventor perched cross-legged on the grass, hunched over a pad of paper. His brow was furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out of his mouth in an expression that was downright comical. A pencil was deftly pressed into his fingers, the dark end of it bobbing animatedly as the Once-ler scribbled across the page. Blue eyes flicked from the page to the Lorax, and he scowled. "Hey, I said no moving!"
"I'll decide if I'm gonna move or not," the orange creature grumbled as he pushed himself up from the rock he'd chosen as a bed. His back gave a crack as he arched upward, grimacing as he rubbed at the sleep still sticking to his eyelids. He then blinked again at the scene before him, frowning. "What on Earth are you guys up to?"
The Once-ler snorted. "Isn't it obvious? It's craft day!"
Spread out across the hill was a number of animals, all heavily engrossed in something or other. Several hummingfish could be seen bent over a piece of paper, paint-soaked fins slapping onto it with heavy, wet smacks. Pipsqueak could be seen rolling in the grass, positively enthralled with dozens of star stickers and far too much glitter in his fur. A swomme-swan could be seen folding several pieces of construction paper with surprising dexterity considering it only seemed to be using its beak. A variety of other craft supplies could be seen dotting the landscape, the most worrying of which came in the form of a tube of glue that was rather well-gnawed.
The Lorax stared blankly at all of this. "I… didn't know we had craft day."
"I made it up," The Once-ler explained as he reached out to snatch the tube of glue from the fat bar-ba-loot. "It's harmless and they all seem to like it, so I think for once you don't have a reason to complain."
His companion gave a scowl. "Ain't that stuff toxic?"
"Eh, vaguely. As long as they don't eat anything, it should be fine," the young man said with a shrug as he wiped the tube off in the grass before setting it down again. "Now hold still, Footstool, I'm drawing you."
"'Scuse me?" The Lorax growled. "I ain't posing for your artsy junk, you skinny hat rack."
He received an eyeroll for this. "Oh, come on, it's already halfway done anyway. It'll be five minutes and then you can go back to doing nothing. You know, like you do already."
There was a moment of silence. Then the Lorax gave a low grumble as he settled back onto the rock, eyes squeezing shut. "I do more in one day than you've done in a lifetime, brat," he growled. "It ain't easy bein' a spiritual entity."
"Uh huh, I can imagine," The Once-ler drawled, an obvious smile in his voice as the sound of sketching filled the air again. "All those naps to somehow fit in between all that complaining. Where on earth do you find the time, Hairball?"
"Somewhere between your twentieth shower and crappy song lyric, Giraffe."
"Was that the best tall insult you could come up with? You'd think after a millennia you'd have developed some semblance of wit."
"Pssht. The genius just ain't hit ya yet, kid. Don't worry, when you're older ya might finally reach half the levels of my intelligence and charm."
"What, like the way you reach roughly half of my lower leg?"
"Very funny, Everest."
"I thought so, meatloaf."
The two sat in an oddly comfortable silence for awhile, the only noise coming from the billowing of the trees, the arc of the pencil and the occasional squawk from a swomme-swan. Finally, however, the Once-ler made a satisfied sort of hum. "Perfect!"
Green eyes snapped open and the Lorax winced under the glare of the sun. "All right, let's see it," he grumbled as he sat up, scratching his side as he did so.
The Once-ler stood there holding the drawing for a moment, inspecting it. Then he grinned and pushed the paper into the Lorax's waited claws. "I think I captured your likeness quite well! I mean, the musache was a challenge, I admit, but I think I got across the idea of your vague disapproval to everything and anything extremely well!"
The Lorax was silent as he inspected the drawing, doing his best to ignore the expectant blue eyes beyond it. Finally after a moment he gave a shrug. "Eh, it's all right," he said as he pushed the paper back.
"All right!" The Once-ler sputtered. "This is artistic genius!"
"You got my nose completely wrong!" The Lorax huffed. "And you can't draw a curved line t' save your life! Draw me the Mona Lisa, then we'll talk!"
"I…" The young man's face visibly fell as he looked down at the paper, shoulders slumping and brow furrowing. "W-well, I mean, I guess I do spend a lot more time drawing machines- but…" He trailed off again, looking for all the world like some sort of awkwardly tall, fedora-wearing puppy that had been kicked in the face.
The Lorax surveyed this for another moment. Then he sighed and reached out to take the paper again, surveying it. "…You did good on the mustache," he finally admitted. "And my claws look pretty good."
This was all it took for the Once-ler's face to light up, a grin spreading across his face. "Really!" He exclaimed.
There was a moment of silence as the Lorax took in that face, watched that smile light up everything around it. He could spot the bit of desperation behind it all, the hope for acceptance that colored everything the inventor did, the whole blatant bid for attention coming forth loud and clear. There was a whole lot he could have said right then- he could have crushed it, he could have reminded the Once-ler that his talents really did lie in the whole inventing and singing business, should have reminded him that he really didn't have to try so hard.
But that smile was real, honest, and so bright it could have made the sun wince. Who was the Lorax to step on that?
"…Yeah," the creature finally murmured as he folded up the picture and set it aside. "You did good kid. Definitely a point in your favor, I'm keeping it."
"Really? Awesome!" The Once-ler exclaimed as he punched a fist in the air. "I got you to like something, that's- wait a second." His grin dimmed down into a sly sort of smile, and the young man reached over to lightly nudge his companion with his elbow. "So does that mean points are good things?"
"What?" The Lorax blinked in confusion.
"Well, you've got that whole system and you gave me a point for the pancakes the other day… so that must mean I'm winning you over!" Satisfied with this conclusion, the young man nodded to himself and sat back in the grass, still grinning.
"Hey, hey, don't get carried away!" The Lorax growled. "I still don't like you, brat!"
The inventor snickered as he picked up the pad of paper and began to doodle again. "Whatever you say, you furry chicken nugget," he drawled.
His companion glared at him for another moment, then gave a huff and settled back down the rock. He supposed in the end it really didn't matter- let the Once-ler think he was actually wanted, maybe it'd be a good thing. He was still the most annoying thing in the valley, and the creature intended to hold him to that along with all the other flaws. The inventions were still a pain and the kid had no sense of respect for nature, he was selfish and vain and honestly a bit of a jerk.
However, as the Lorax spared a glance at the picture, he couldn't help but smile. Because yes, the kid was a jerk, but admittedly he was growing on him.
Not that he'd ever admit it.