UNLESS someone like you
cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better.
It's not.
Be a Watershed Volunteer.
At the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows and the
wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows and no birds ever sing excepting old
crows... is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.
And
deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say, if you look deep enough you can
still see, today, where the Lorax once stood just as long as it could before
somebody lifted the Lorax away.
What
was the Lorax? Any why was it there? And why was it lifted and taken somewhere
from the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows? The old Once-ler still
lives here.
Ask him, he knows.
You won't see the Once-ler. Don't knock at his door. He stays
in his Lerkim on top of his store. He stays in his Lerkim, cold under the
floor, where he makes his own clothes out of miff-muffered moof. And on special
dank midnights in August, he peeks out of the shutters and sometimes he speaks
and tells how the Lorax was lifted away. He'll tell you, perhaps... if you're
willing to pay.
On
the end of a rope he lets down a tin pail and you have to toss in fifteen cents
and a nail and the shell of a great-great-great- grandfather snail.
Then
he pulls up the pail, makes a most careful count to see if you've paid him the
proper amount. Then he hides what you paid him away in his Snuvv, his secret
strange hole in his gruvvulous glove. Then he grunts. I will call you by
Whisper-ma-Phone, for the secrets I tell you are for your ears alone.
SLUPP Down slupps the Whisper-ma-Phone to your ear and the old
Once-ler's whispers are not very clear, since they have to come down through a
snergelly hose, and he sounds as if he had smallish bees up his nose. Now I'll
tell you, he says, with his teeth sounding gray, how the Lorax got lifted and
taken away... It all started way back... such a long, long time back...
Way back
in the days when the grass was still green and the pond was still wet and the
clouds were still clean, and the song of the Swomee-Swans rang out in space...
one morning, I came to this glorious place. And I first saw the trees! The
Truffula Trees! The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees! Mile after mile
in the fresh morning breeze.
And
under the trees, I saw Brown Bar-ba-loots frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot
suits as the played in the shade and ate Truffula Fruits. From the rippulous
pond came the comfortable sound of the Humming-Fish humming while splashing
around.
But
those trees! Those trees! Those Truffula Trees! All my life I'd been searching
for trees such as these. The touch of their tufts was much softer than silk.
And they had the sweet smell of fresh butterfly milk.
I felt a great leaping of joy in my heart.
I knew just what I'd do! I unloaded my cart. In no time at all, I had built a
small shop. Then I chopped down a Truffula Tree with one chop. And with great
skillful skill and with great speedy speed, I took the soft tuft. And I knitted
a Thneed!
The
instant I'd finished I heard a ga-Zump! I looked. I saw something pop out of
the stump of the tree I'd chopped down. It was sort of a man. Describe
him...That's hard. I don't know if I can. He was shortish, and oldish, and
brownish and mossy. And he spoke with a voice that was sharpish and bossy.
Mister!
He said with a sawdusty sneeze, I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak
for the trees, for the trees have no tongues. And I'm asking you, sir, at the
top of my lungs-- he was very upset as he shouted and puffed-What's that THING
you've made out of my Truffula tuft?
Look, Lorax, I said. There's no cause for alarm. I chopped just
one tree. I am doing no harm. I'm being quite useful. This thing is a Thneed. A
Thneed's a Fine-Something-That-All-People-Need! It’s a shirt. It's a sock. It's
a glove. It's a hat. But it has other uses. Yes, far beyond that. You can use
it for carpets. For pillows! For sheets! Or curtains! Or covers for bicycle
seats! The Lorax said, Sir! You are crazy with greed. There is no one on earth
who would buy that fool Thneed!
But the very next minute I proved he was wrong. For, just at
that minute, a chap came along, and he thought that the Thneed I had knitted
was great. He happily bought it for three ninety-eight. I laughed at the Lorax,
You poor stupid guy! You never can tell what some people will buy.
I repeat, cried the Lorax, I speak for the trees!
I'm busy, I told him. Shut up, if you please. I rushed 'cross
the room, and in no time at all, built a radiophone. I put in a quick call. I
called all my brothers and uncles and aunts and I said, listen here! Here's a
wonderful chance for the whole Once-ler Family to get mighty rich! Get over
here fast! Take the road to North Nitch. Turn left at Weehawken. Sharp right at
South Stitch.
And, in no time at all, in the factory I built, the whole
Once-ler Family was working full tilt. We were all knitting Thneed’s just as
busy as bees, to the sound of the chopping of Truffula Trees.
Then...
Oh! Baby! Oh! How my business did grow! Now, chopping one tree at a time was
too slow. So I quickly invented my Super-Axe-Hacker, which whacked off four
Truffula Trees at one smacker. We were making Thneed’s four times as fast as
before! And that Lorax?... He didn't show up any more.
But
the next week he knocked on my new office door. He snapped! I'm the Lorax who
speaks for the trees, which you seem to be chopping as fast as you please. But
I'm also in charge of the Brown Bar-ba-loots, who played in the shade in their
Bar-ba-loot suits and happily lived, eating Truffula Fruits. NOW...thanks to
your hacking my trees to the ground, there's not enough Truffula Fruit to go
'round.
And my poor Bar-ba-loots are all getting the crummies because
they have gas, and no food, in their tummies! They loved living here. But I
can't let them stay. They'll have to find food. And I hope that they may. Good
luck, boys, he cried. And he sent them away.
I,
the Once-ler, felt sad as I watched them all go. BUT... business is business!
And business must grow regardless of crummies in tummies, you know.
I
meant no harm. I most truly did not. But I had to grow bigger. So bigger I got.
I biggered my factory. I biggered my roads. I biggered my wagons. I biggered
the loads of the Thneed’s I shipped out. I was shipping them forth to the
South! To the East! To the West! To the North! I went right on
biggering...selling more Thneed’s. And I biggered my money, which everyone
needs.
Then again he came back! I was fixing some pipes when that old
nuisance Lorax came back with more gripes. I am the Lorax, he coughed and he whiffed.
He sneezed and he snuffled. He snarggled. He sniffed. Once-ler! He cried with a
cruffulous croak. Once-ler! You're making such smogulous smoke!
My poor Swomee-Swans...why, they can't sing a note! No one can
sing who has smog in his throat. And so, said the Lorax, --please pardon my
cough-- they cannot live here. So I'm sending them off. Where will they go? I
don't hopefully know. They may have to fly for a month...or a year... To escape
from the smog you've smoggedup around here.
What's more, snapped the Lorax. (His dander was up.) Let me say
a few words about Gluppity-Glupp. Your machinery chugs on, day and night
without stop making Gluppity-Glupp. Also Schloppity-Schlopp. And what do you do
with this leftover goo? I'll show you. You dirty old Once-ler man, you!
You're
glumping the pond where the Humming-Fish hummed! No more can they hum, for
their gills are all gummed. So I'm sending them off. Oh, their future is
dreary. They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary in search of some
water that isn't so smeary.
And
then I got mad. I got terribly mad. I yelled at the Lorax, Now listen here,
Dad! All you do is yap-yap and say, Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad! Well, I have my rights,
sir, and I'm telling you I intend to go on doing just what I do! And, for your
information, you Lorax, I'm figgering on biggering and Biggering and BIGGERING
and BIGGERING!! Turning MORE Truffula Trees into Thneed’s which everyone,
EVERYONE, EVERYONE needs!
And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack! From outside in
the fields came a sickening smack of an axe on a tree. Then we heard the tree
fall. The very last Truffula Tree of them all! No more trees. No more Thneed’s.
No more work to be done. So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every one, all
waved my good-bye. They jumped into my cars and drove away under the
smoke-smuggered stars.
Now all that was left beneath the bad-smelling sky was my big
empty factory... the Lorax... and I.
The Lorax said nothing. Just gave me a glance... just gave me a
very sad, sad backward glance... as he lifted himself by the seat of his pants.
And I'll never forget the grim look on his face when he hoisted himself and
took leave of this place, through a hole in the smog, without leaving a trace.
And all that the Lorax left here in this mess was a small pile of rocks, with
one word... UNLESS.
Whatever that meant, well, I just couldn't guess.
That
was long, long ago. But each day since that day I've sat here and worried and
worried away. Through the years, while my buildings have fallen apart, I've
worried about it with all of my heart.
But now, says the
Once-ler, Now that you're here, the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear.
UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get
better. It's not.
SO...
Catch! Calls the Once-ler. He lets something fall. It's a Truffula Seed. It's
the last one of all! You're in charge of the last of the Truffula Seeds. And
Truffula Trees are what everyone needs. Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with
care. Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air. Grow a forest. Protect it
from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.
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