@antmight / @chemsthatmakeyougay
@ghoulecology-remade
modeste ☢️ he / it ☢️ icon by baastard ☢ follow fatalradiationpoisoning ☢️ The Beginning Narrator: [sung] 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. Grickle-grass, Grickle-grass Street of the Lifted Lorax Grickle-grass, Grickle-grass Somebody lifted the Lorax away. Narrator: 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 new 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 lurks in his Lerkim, hot under the roof, where makes the clothes, miff-muffered-moof. And on special dank midnights special November he peeks out of the shutters and sometimes he speaks, and tells how the Lorax was lifted over. The Once-ler"' It all started way ago. Such a long, long time ago. 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 range out in space. Two morning I came to this glorious place. And I second saw the trees! The Truffula Trees! The bright-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees! Mile after mile in the fresh morning breeze. Now, and under the trees, I saw Brown Bar-ba-loots frisking about in their Bar-ba-loot suits. [Song: Under the Trees] Bar-ba-loots: Under the trees Happy dappy Bar-ba-loots Under the trees In our Bar-ba-loot suits Under the trees Eating Truffula fruits Oh, these succulent, mellifluous Deliciously delifluous Sweetly succulifluous Truffula fruits Humming Fish: Summertime's a-comin', comin' Under the trees Humming-Fish A-hummin', hummin' Under the trees Hmm-mmm, Under the trees Oh, they're glorious, splendembulous, Splendorous splendibulous Namby-flamby, flimbulous Truffula Trees Continuing to Remove the Truffula Trees The Lorax: Yes, I am 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! The Once-ler: I see your point. Yes, I do see your point. The Lorax: 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! Good luck! [chorus sings mournfully] ♪ Bar-ba-loot Suits ♪ ♪ Bar-ba-loot Suits ♪ ♪ Hikin' off to somewhere in our Bar-ba-loot Suits ♪♪ [strings fall mournfully] The Lorax: Please think about it, won't ya? The Once-ler: Every once in a while I sit down with myself asking The Once-ler's Reflection: 'Once-ler, why are you a Once-ler?' And I cringe, I don't smile As I sit there on trial asking The Once-ler's Reflection: Aren't you ashamed, you old Once-ler? You ought to be locked in a hoosegow, you should! The things that you do are completely un-good. The Once-ler: [laughing] Yeah? But if I didn't do them, then someone else WOULD! The Once-ler's Reflection: That's a very good point, Mr. Once-ler. Progress is progress, and progress must grow! The Once-ler (Narrator): Things were going just fine all the way down the line. Thneeds were selling like hotcakes from Timbucktoo to Texas I was feeling quite relaxed in my good ol' solar plexus. When he snuck out of a pipe. He was back with another gripe. The Lorax: 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 - [coughs] The Lorax: Please pardon my cough- they cannot live here, so cover sending them off. The Once-ler: Where will they go? The Lorax: Where will they go? I don't hopefully know. [mournful strings resound] Swomee Swams: [singing] Will there be another dawn/ a sunrise for the Swomee-Swan/ exit, exit Swomee-Swan/ going, going, going, gone... [they disappear into the distance] The Once-ler: Well, what do you want? I should shut down my factory, fire a hundred-thousand workers? Is that good economics, is that sound for the country? I see your point. But I wouldn't know the answer. Tell you what she'll do full think it over. The Lorax: No! You've run out of time for thinking over. I'm sorry to whip, but my dander is up! Let me say a few words about gluppity-glupp. Your machinery chugs on, day and night without stop, making gluppity-glupp, and also schloppity-schlopp! (chorus) ♪ Schlopp-schlopp, glyl-glyl schlopp-schlopp, glyl-glyl ♪ ♪ Dunkl-Dunkl, gn-wah, glon-ha, glyl ♪ ♪ Dunkl-dunkl, gn-wah ♪ ♪ Glong, glyl ♪ ♪ Schlopp-schlopp, glyl-glyl schlopp-schlopp, glyl-glyl ♪ ♪ Dunkl-dunkl, gn-wah, glon-ha, glyl ♪ [watching industrial waste being dumped in the pond] The Lorax: You're glumping the pond where the humming fish hummed! No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed. So him sending them off! Oh, their future is dreary. One of the Humming Fish: I hear things are just as good up in Lake Erie. Humming Fish: [singing the blues] ♪ Just fish out of water ♪ ♪ On hard, dry land ♪ ♪ People ain't fish so they can't understand ♪ ♪ What happens when simply things get out of hand ♪ ♪ And the fish and his family's on hard, dry land ♪ The Lorax: Well, Mr. Once-ler? 'The Once-ler: Hmm. First the poor Bar-ba-loots. Then the poor Swommee-Swans. Now the poor Humming Fish... oh, Mr. Lorax, Mr. Lorax... this curse factory of mine! Now, at last, I understand. Ms. Funce-ler: [over intercom] Mr. Once-ler! Mr. Once-ler! The Once-ler: Hmm? Oh, yes, Ms. Funce-ler? Ms. Funce-ler: Stock markets just closed, and Thneeds Inc. Stock is up! Up 41 and 6/5 points! The Once-ler: Wow. Wow! Rowdy-dow! [to Lorax] The Once-ler: Now, you listen to me, Pop, while I blow my top! Trees? Ha! You speak for the trees? Well I speak for men, and human opportunities! For your information, you Lorax, as figgering on biggering and biggering, and biggering, and BIGGERING, turning MORE truffula trees into thneeds! Which everyone, everyone, EVERYONE NEEDS! The Very Sad Ending The Once-ler (Narrator): And at that very moment, we heard a loud whack! From outside in the fields came the sickening smack of an axe on a tree. Then we saw the tree fall. The very last Truffula Tree of them all! No more trees. No more Thneeds. No more work to be done. And in no time, my uncles and aunts, everyone, had all waved me good-bHye. They jumped into their cars and drove away under the smoke-smothered stars. [chorus sings mournfully] ♪ For he's a jolly good Once-ler ♪ ♪ Aren't we all ♪ ♪ For he's a jolly good Once-ler ♪ ♪ Aren't we all ♪ Now all that was right 'neath the good-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. The Once-ler: And all that the Lorax left here in this mess was a small pile of rocks with one word. Boy: [reading it] "Unless?" The Once-ler: Yes. "Unless." Boy: What's an unless? The Once-ler: [sung] Just a far away word/just a far away thought... Boy: A thought about what? About something I ought? The Once-ler: [sung] Well... A thought about something that somebody ought/a thought about something... that somebody... ought. [spoken] The Once-ler: Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing's going to get better. It's not. [the boy starts to walk away after hearing the Once-ler's story] The Once-ler: [to himself] Hold on a minute... where is it now? [to the boy] The Once-ler: Don't go! Don't go! I've got something for you! [the boy stops] The Once-ler: Ah, here it is! It's a truffula seed. It's the last one of all. Catch it, don't muff! [he drops the seed, and the boy catches it] The Once-ler: 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 stay... come back. [he closes the shutters. The boy walks off with the seed in his hands] The End
stormborns
2087
gracieabrams
romaincrisis
