The Three Strike-Point-Flag System
A Lorax Fanfic Series by Digitaldreamer
X: Listen To Your Referee
Phew. Hey guys, sorry for the wait- literally right after I posted the last one, I succeeded in getting a job. Unfortunately that meant I had a whole lot of focusing to do. I'm still pretty busy and feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything, but hopefully you guys will enjoy this anyway. I worry the ending to this one may be a bit abrupt, so I apologize if it is.
Cue more establishing stuff with the factory, lots of loving descriptions of the Once-ler in suspenders and some arguing. I'm trying to capture the image of the Once-ler becoming a bit more corrupted and the Lorax getting a bit more openly frustrated, while still establishing that there's still some friendship there... maybe. Whee! Enjoy, and please tell me what you guys think- feedback lets me know what I'm doing right, what I'm doing wrong and also lets me know people are enjoying the fic, so let your voice be heard!
It was hot, far hotter than nine in the morning had any business being. The heat settled through the the Thneed factory, a wet, oppressive humidity that clung to the air like a slimy, thick coat. It hung in an all-encompassing mist, glittering in the golden sunlight that peeked through the open windows, uninvited.
Droplets of water clung to the Thneed-O-Matics. They encircled long metal arms like pearled necklaces, slid down clawed shears to leave dewy sweat trails in their wake. Steel supports shimmered in the thick air, coiled around the machines like rippling muscles- sleek, metallic, physical examples of the power that normally glowed within beady red neon "on" switches. Conveyer belt tongues stretched out over the factory floor, swallowing pink fluff with greedy precision.
One, however, lolled listlessly, the gaping thneed-producing maw momentarily still. The beast slumbered in the summer heat, great, powerful, and seemingly impossibly lazy amongst its brethren. The others trucked along, pistons flaring, steam puffing into the air like smoke from the jowls of dragons. The workers puttered around the machines, feeding silky pink into open mouths, shouting over thundering metal jaws, the classic rock from the radio and the occasional awful, obnoxious snarl from various alarms. If they were bothered by the heat that had their polyester shirts clinging to sweat-soaked backs, they didn't act like it.
Granted, that may have had something to do with their boss in their midst, whom was trapped below the single still machine and cursing up a storm.
"Come on, you stupid thing!" The Once-ler growled, venom in his tone. The workers were all giving the machine in question a wide berth, stepping around and over the absurdly long legs poking out from beneath the slumbering monster. This was probably wise, as a small bang from its belly elicited an awful rumble from the machine. Its master was undeterred, however, a green work glove sticking out to snatch up a screwdriver before returning to work.
The really sad part was how familiar this whole scene was becoming. This was frustrating- Thneed-O-Matic Number Two was a new model, infinitely superior to the ancient metal deathtraps of One and Five -but the Once-ler was starting to notice an absurdly long, CEO-shaped impression on the dusty floor, and that wasn't good. What was supposed to be a quick fix was quickly turning into a very long, very hot morning with no end in sight.
The Once-ler gave another grumble as he tightened a screw. "'Quick fix' my ass," he muttered. "Next time I see Chett, he's getting a piece of my-"
"Oi, Beanpole!"
The voice surprised him, causing the young man to give a yelp and shoot upward on reflex. His head connected solidly with the underside of his work, sending a great, reverberating 'clang' through the belly of the beast. The Once-ler let out a curse as he immediately rolled out from underneath the machine, entire body curling inward as he clutched at his head.
"Owowowowow!" The Once-ler's tone came out in a frustrated whine, fighting back the urge to squirm on the dusty floor.
"Wow. That was pathetic, even for you. You all right?"
A single blue eye cracked open to spot two tiny orange paws, then flicked upward to spot the rare sight of the Lorax looking down at him. The Once-ler scowled as he sat up, still clutching at his head. "What do you want?" As he spoke, he let his hands drop, poking experimentally at his 'wound' and wincing. "Uuuughh, I swear, if I have a concussion…"
That drew a snort from the Lorax. "Seriously?" He snickered as he stepped around the seated young man. A paw came out to use the Once-ler's shoulder as leverage ("Hey!" the young man yelped, but went ignored), the forest guardian stretching up on his tip-toes to glance at the young man's head. Finally, he poked the growing bump, mustache turning upward in a little half smirk when the inventor let out a yelp and smacked his claws away. "You'll be fine, ya big baby. It's just a bump. I'm sure your brilliant inventing brain will be around t' invent fantastically metrosexual crap for years t' come."
"Gee, thanks so much. I definitely wanted your expert, definitely-not-a-doctor's opinion," The Once-ler said flatly as he shooed the critter away from his space. He then tugged off the green work gloves he'd pulled on so as to properly wipe at his sweat-soaked forehead. The gesture was practically meaningless, given the way his bangs were plastered to said forehead, so all it really succeeded in doing was adding another dark grease spot to his face.
"Well, don't you just look like a regular blue collar worker today," the Lorax commented as he leaned against the support where the Once-ler's long, pinstripe green suit coat was draped. "Ain't this supposed t' be the sort of thing you leave behind when you become a CEO?"
"Har har," His former charge said with a roll of his eyes. "You'd think. But Brett and Chett seem to be experts at messing up my machines- and well, given how I made them, I don't see the point in paying someone else to fix them."
The Lorax quirked a brow at this. "M' not sure if that's admirable of you or incredibly cheap."
"I'd go with admirable if you don't want my Aunt to throw you out the window again," The Once-ler said with a dark sort of grin. Upon receiving a green glare, he let out a laugh. "I'm joking, I'm joking! Relax," he snickered, then let out a sigh as he reached up to tug at his shirt collar, desperately trying to loosen it from his sweat-soaked back. Even without his coat and with his sleeves rolled up, it was proving to be far too warm. He didn't dare remove his green waistcoat and suspenders, however- his shirt was dusty enough as is and they provided some proof of his title, so he'd just have to suffer. Besides, he had at least twenty of the same suit.
His former friend watched this movement patiently. "Real scorcher today, ain't it?"
The Once-ler gave a nod as he tugged at the tie around his neck, which felt a bit too much like a noose in the heat. "No kidding. Weatherman says it's gonna be like this all week, it's ridiculous. I have no idea how you're managing in all that fur."
At these words, the Lorax snorted and puffed out his furry chest. "I've got my ways, don't you worry. I'll be fine, it's the animals I'm worried about. Bar-ba-loots don't do hot weather terribly well, and this is the hottest things have been in a long time."
"Uh huh. Yeah, well, I've got air conditioning in my office, so I'm set. I should really see about doing something for down here though, it's ridiculous..." The young man didn't seem to really be listening, his focus on the tool box as he pulled his gloves back on and began to shift through it. He nudged aside a hammer and a somewhat wobbly screwdriver before pulling out a multi-headed wrench, the different sizes branching off of it like some kind of metallic snowflake.
An orange paw shot out to shove the wrench down, green eyes meeting his. "You do realize this climate change is 'cause of you, right?"
The Once-ler blinked in surprise for a moment, then gave a snort. "What, were you talking with those protesters from the other day? Don't be stupid, they're making it up." With those words he ducked below the machine, very nearly disappearing beneath a ceiling of screws and wires.
"That's where you're wrong, Gigantor," The Lorax's voice echoed from the edge of the metallic beast, his little paws poking from beneath the lip of it. "Ya wanna know why it's so damn hot?"
These words elicited a snort from the Once-ler as he tugged at a loose screw. "Because of all the hot air you spew on a regular basis?"
He went ignored. "It's all your hackin' and smoggin'! I mean, the air quality's bad enough-"
"No it's not."
He could see the eyeroll of a response in his mind's eye. "Don't give me that. You know as well as I do that the swomme-swans ain't singing anymore, and that sure as hell ain't because they've run out of duets t' do with the hummingfish. Besides, your employees are coughin' too."
The Once-ler let out a laugh at this. "Please. That's the flu, genius. It's been going around, it happens."
"The flu don't cause people t' cough up black slime, idiot," The orange creature pointed out. "Anyway, stop ignorin' my original point. Your smog is what's messing with the weather."
His words were interrupted by an awful, rumbling 'clang' before a long, spindly piece actually dropped out from the bottom of the machine, sending dust everywhere. The Once-ler let out something between a curse and a cough. "God-damniti!" He snapped, eyes squeezing shut against the cloud before he began to cough.
"That stuff acts like a blanket," The Lorax continued, undeterred. "It's keeping the heat where it shouldn't be, that's why everythin's so much hotter than usual."
"That idea just gets stupider the more I hear it," The Once-ler grumbled as he pulled himself out from under the machine and began scrubbing at his face with the dusty gloves. "It doesn't make any sense- the sun's out today, so obviously my smog can't be covering it up that much. Even if it was, cloudy days tend to be cooler for a reason, as my scientists have so lovingly pointed out to me. Who am I supposed to believe, a whole team of scientists or a little orange fuzz ball who couldn't even tell me how half of this stuff works? For a guardian of nature, clearly you don't know crap about-"
He was cut off by an orange fist grabbing the front of his collar and pulling him down with a surprising amount of force. Green eyes locked with blue and rather abruptly the Once-ler felt more like he was staring down a lion than an orange fuzzball. "Don't," The Lorax hissed, and his words were a growl backed up with the subtle rumble of thunder in his throat. "Ever tell me my perception of nature is off. I have been here for over a millennia, and that's a whole lot longer than your scientists. If I say somethin's wrong, kid, there's something wrong."
The Once-ler met his gaze for a moment. Then his own blue eyes narrowed and he reached up to enclose a twig-like, furred wrist in his own gloved hand. "Is that so?" He chirped, bright tone laced with an air of sickening bile from his gut. "Then don't call me kid, you primitive sack of ancient history."
He was no longer facing down a lion, he was facing down something impossibly tiny and pathetic, and all he could do was wonder just why he'd ever been concerned about this thing's view of him. After all, he was industry. He was the towering giant and the thing before him was nothing more than a squall- a burst of wind, rain and hot air. Nothing important.
Still, that squall was staring him down, and the two simply sat there for a moment, glaring at each other with the closest thing to open malice either had ever expressed. The machines whirred around them, giants stampeding forward, undeterred by the feud below. The classic rock pouring from the radio was interrupted by an incredibly familiar jingle, the words tumbling out over a factory that suddenly seemed eerily quiet.
"Everybody needs a thneed, a fine thing that all people need…"
It was only in this silence that the Once-ler realized that most of his workers had ceased what they were doing to watch the squabble on the floor. He blinked, eyes shifting over to meet dozens of other pairs of eyes. Said eyes immediately diverted as the workers all rushed to look busy, though the checking and rechecking of the same tufts over and over again made it incredibly clear just where their attention still lay.
And with that attention came a very worrying thought. A CEO working down in the factory had an air of being "one of us", it gave the workers a sense of community. A six-foot something CEO getting into a fist fight with a two foot tall orange fluffball? Well, that looked bad no matter how you spun it.
The Once-ler eased his grip on the Lorax's wrist, trying to at least appear gentle as he pushed the creature away. "I'm terribly sorry about that, buddy," he drawled, the abrupt cheer in his voice sounding almost convincing. "The heat's made me just a tad irritable, you know how it is. But I assure you, my board's looked into it and my smog isn't causing any harm. They've run tests and you can trust me when I say it's one hundred percent safe." He'd gotten quite used to using this tone. If he spun it right, spat out the right numbers and flashed the right smile, he'd found he could convince just about anyone. "The heat wave's just that, a heat wave- there was a similar one ten years ago and ten years before that! These things go in cycles- it probably just doesn't seem that way to you because of all the fur."
Unfortunately, the Lorax had never been convinced by numbers, and that deadpan green glare made it clear nothing had changed.
The Once-ler let out a sigh, fake smile dropping as he reached for the part that had fallen out. "Fine, keep being deluded about the smog all you want, I don't care. I know you're lying, so it doesn't matter. Anyway, I keep letting you walk in here out of the kindness of my heart, so unless you've got something else to say-"
"The fish."
"What?"
The Lorax huffed as he folded his thin arms, tapping a foot against the dusty floor. "The hummingfish. That new factory of yours is in the North sector- which ya said you'd leave alone, for the record -but at any rate, it's dumping this schloppity-schlop junk straight into the river."
"Oh. That," The Once-ler made a face for a second before the smile came back- bright, cheerful, ready to sell. "Look buddy, I'm sorry about that, I really am, but we're biggering and we needed the room."
The Lorax looked unconvinced, "An' the schlop?"
"Weeeeeellllll…." The Once-ler let the word trail off, then gave a nervous laugh. " I am sorry about that, but the nearest waste dump is fifty miles off. It just wasn't in the budget, that's all."
Again came that incredulous eyebrow quirk. "That so? That's funny, considering I've seen that new desk o' yours. Barely fits in your office. You're tellin' me you can afford stuff like that, but actually trying t' be kind to the environment is out of the question?"
His former charge let out a huff as he finally ducked below the machine again. "Look, I've been busy okay?" He insisted, voice reverberating against the metal in an echo. "I really needed that desk for all the paperwork, I'm practically drowning in it! And then there's stuff like these machines constantly breaking, I have a board meeting tonight for the third night in a row, I've got new commercial storyboards I need to approve by Friday and then on top of this Norma wanted to go out to dinner this weekend- gah, I have no idea if I'll be able to fit it in. So yeah, sorry that your stupid fish weren't exactly in the game plan."
There was a moment of silence from the guardian of the forest. "…Sheesh. All this time and you're still doin' everything while missing the one thing you should be doing. Some big bad CEO you've turned out t' be."
"I'm doing whatever need to get done." The Once-ler let out another frustrated growl as he struggled to shove the metal object back into place. "Look, I don't have time for this- like I said, I'm really busy. I see your point about the fish and I'll see about bringing up at the meeting tonight. Does that get me a point or whatever?"
Another moment of silence that felt surprisingly weighted- heavy with unsaid accusations, complaints and whatever else. Finally, he heard a familiar sigh. "I'll believe it when I see it, kiddo."
That very nearly caused the Once-ler to hit his head again. He let out a growl as his head popped out from under the machine again. "Hey, what did I say about-"
He was talking to empty space. Again.
The Once-ler blinked in surprise as he glanced around, tugging absently at that damn tie. Upon sucking in a breath, the air seemed to catch in his throat, tearing an awful, violent cough from his thin frame. He grimaced as he reached up to cover his mouth, his other fist rapping at his chest After a moment these coughs subsided, leaving him sitting there in the dust and humidity, grimacing as he finally allowed his gloved hand to drop.
It came away thick with a dark, oily goop.
"Sir?" One of the employee's voices echoed over the din of the factory, concern evident in her tone. "Are you all right?
"Y-yeah…" The Once-ler shook his head and swiped his hand across his thigh- these pants were ruined anyway, and the goop was close enough to the grease stains that it didn't really matter. "I'm fine, don't worry about it. Just close the window or something, all right?"
At the worker's pained expression, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I said close it, I think I'm catching something," he growled, his tone becoming the one of a person all too used to getting their own way. "Don't worry about the heat, I'll install air conditioning today and plenty of fans," he added as he swallowed, ignoring the slight gumming in his throat as he turned to focus on his tools.
So he was catching the flu. Big deal. That didn't mean Mustache was right- he was just a bit overworked, it was only natural that his body would start to break down. He'd just take some vitamins and that would be that, he didn't have time for much else. It was fine, he'd make it work. He always did.
Everything was going to be just fine