Four Happy Endings That Never Were and One That Actually Was

01. I've Never Had a Friend Before

"And this is my friend, the Lorax—"

Here the Once-ler pauses, not quite sure which he's waiting for: the Lorax to speak up and say Hey! I'm not your friend, kid! or his own mouth to hurriedly correct himself—cause he's never had a friend before.

Neither events happen, and the Once-ler continues on, ignoring the strange tingling in his gut and the urge he has to smile. The Lorax just huffs and folds his arms across his chest in typical Lorax fashion before looking at the Once-ler's family and beginning his tiraid that they listen even less to.

Finally he offers words of wisdom he thinks no one will even care for anyway.

The Once-ler leaves with thoughts to think upon.

His mother comes, all smiles, as trustworthy as a grinning cat with one paw on a mouse.

"Oncie, baby, have you considered chopping down these trees?" she simpers, already devoted to her role of neglected mother.

Has he? He thinks of a promise he made to a friend—his first friend.

I swear I won't chop down anymore trees.

He's never had a friend to let down before.

He won't start now.

"I'll think of something, Mom."

02. A Simple Life

The stink of tomato juice clings to him as the Once-ler walks off stage. He tosses his thneed into a garbage bin as he passes, and there it lies until the garbage man comes and takes it away, where it will join other unwanted things in a large heap, never to be discovered.

"Hey, kid, how'd it go?" the Lorax calls, and the Once-ler lets it go: his thneed, his dreams, his everything. So what if his family was right? He'll… live with that. There's really no other choice, is there?

"Not so hot. Turns out my invention is ahead of its time."

"Hmm. Too bad. Want me to deal you in?"

No reason to leave, is there?

Late that night, the Once-ler sits at his kitchen table, surrounded by a few dozen forest creatures he has thus far fed, entertained, and even let sleep in his home and his bed.

Nothing to be done if none what his thneed. He could go. Travel the world, create something new.

But… Does he want to? He could stay. Regardless of his thneed, there's enough around here to build a life. He looks around his crowded house, a small smile growing.

Maybe…

03. Easy-Going

The Once-ler and the Lorax look at the piles of request forms from that afternoon with mixed expressions: awe for one, horror for another. As the Once-ler sorts them accordingly, an expression of unmittigated glee spread across his face, the Lorax wracks his brain for something to say.

"So… How're you gonna meet these orders, beanpole? This family o'yers—s'gonna take them a week to get here, right? What then? Gonna start choppin' down trees—gonna break promises?"

The Once-ler looks up. "What? Oh. No. See, I gotta a plan." From the back table, the kid reveals a strange device, explaining it's a "truffula tree tuft plucker". The Lorax just has to take his word on that.

He shakes his head. "And what then? Gonna teach your family how to knit—"

"Oh, no, my family can't knit. I'm gonna build a factory—"

"A what?" The Lorax scrambles to the kid, taking advantage of the fact that, for once, they are eye-to-eye: the Lorax standing, the kid sitting on the floor surrounded by pages. "Kid, you can't—"

"Why not?"

He's dense to his effect on others. The Lorax sighs.

"…Homemade sells higher."

He's finally speaking the Once-ler's language.

04. The Last Truffula Tree

When words have failed the Lorax, he ceases to speak and jumps upon the Once-ler's shoulders and turns his head upon the forest he hasn't fully looked at in ages. For one terrible moment, the Once-ler says nothing, dazed eyes staring at the gray world around him; the last thing he remembers is technocolor, of which nothing remains.

Except one lone tree.

They can see the chopper trolling towards it, puffing smoke and pulling its way uphill—the sad little engine that could, that shouldn't, and then the Once-ler is gone: tearing out of his office like a man possessed, shouting orders to his secretaries and assistants, "For the love of the Maker, STOP THAT MACHINE!"

The chopper stops, only feet away from the last truffula tree. The factory shuts down, the business closes. The workers and his family leave. The Once-ler hardly notices. He stands before the tree like a judge, surrounded by sick, tired, hungry forest creatures, a million stumps like gravemarkers.

What little money he has left goes to the land. He feeds the creatures, cultivates the tree. The fruit it bares is shiveled, but has seeds. They grow the same.

The Lorax is there to help.

05. Old Men

"Ya did good, beanpole."

The Once-ler hugs the old creature tightly. He has so much he wants to ask: where did he go, what did he do, is he hungry? He'd gladly cook twentieths for this creature if he so asked.

He points instead to the hundreds of little shoots sprouting from the ground, leading the Lorax through the beginnings of a fresh new forest.

"It's the factories," he explains, gesturing to the many dozen sprouts. "With them shut down, the air cleared and rain fell for the first time in decades. These must've been buried—they sprang up with the first drop!"

The Lorax nods. "Good old barbaloots. They bury the seeds they don't eat. These must've been in the ground for decades, just waiting to grow."

"It's thanks to Ted—this… remarkable boy. He came and sought change. It's thanks to him the factories shut down."

It's only been a year. The Once-ler isn't sure he can believe it. This, all of this, done in a year because of a boy and a few bears doing as bears do years ago.

"I'm so sorry," the Once-ler says. He wants to say more.

"Kid, forget about it."

You're forgiven.


I dunno. I liked them. Good? Y/N?