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[ask-the-monkler]

The Monk-Ler: Origins part 1

The Lorax looked out at the Truffula forest. What was once vibrant and beautiful was slowly fading due to the Onceler’s rapidly-biggering factories. He watched a family of Swommie Swans settle into their nest, built atop the stump of the tree they’d previously lived in. He watched a young Bar-Ba-Loot scrounge for fruits and come up empty handed. He watched a school of Humming-Fish trying to wade through oily black goo.

This was his forest. He was it’s guardian.

How could he let this happen?

The Lorax sighed and jumped off the stump he’d been sitting on. The first tree that the Onceler had ever chopped down. Once upon a time, the Onceler had been his friend. He recalled eating flapjacks at the human’s house and dealing him into ambiguous card games. He recalled floating his mattress into the river and ultimately saving him, after which the bean-pole promised he’d never chop down another Truffula Tree.

“Yeah,” the Lorax chuckled sadly. “Look at how that turned out.”

He wandered along the bank of the shlop-filled river, kicking pebbles further down the path until they dropped into the water.

The Onceler did this, he thought. The more devastation he took in, the more animals he made sad eye contact with, the louder the thought became.

He’d been warned. And this? This was far past deserving a second chance. Or a third. Or a fourth. Or however many Lorax had given him at this point.

The Lorax stopped in his tracks and changed course, marching toward the Onceler’s factory. He marched up the stairs until he reached the balcony.

“How’s it going, Beanpole?” He asked, malice in his tone.

The Onceler, who was busy scribbling something down in a notebook, jumped and looked down at him. “What are you doing here? Come to threaten me with your quote-unquote “”powers”” again?” The Onceler rose from his seat, towering over the Lorax. He was afraid for only a second, but looked outside —at the few remaining trees— and his righteous anger returned.

“I’m done threatening you. I’m here to protect this forest.” He clenched his tiny fists and felt guardian magic pool in his chest.

The Onceler feigned fear before glowering down at him. “Oh I’m shaking in my boots, Mustache. What’re you gonna do? Gonna send my bed floating down a river again? Gonna pull up the pegs on my tent?”

As he spoke, he took long steps towards the Lorax. Every time the Lorax stepped back, Onceler just got closer. Soon enough he was walking backwards down the steps as the man ranted.

“I’m going to keep biggering, and I’m going to keep turning Truffula trees into Thneeds! And unless you can do any of that guardian magic you claim you can, there is nothing you can do to stop me!”

The pressure growing in Lorax’s chest came to a breaking point, and he shoved Onceler back with all his might.

It was like a bomb went off. The Lorax was thrown backwards with the force of a giant rubber band snapping, crashing into the factory wall and sliding to the ground. Wild orange and yellow and pink light swirled around the Onceler, looking almost like the fluff of the Truffula trees. Green gloved hands reached out, searching for something to grab ahold of, but there was nothing there. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the light shrunk into nothing. When The Lorax opened his eyes, the Onceler wasn’t there.

Animals, as well as the Onceler’s family, slowly approached the site, rubbing their eyes from the bright light.

“What did you do?” Isabella, the Onceler’s mother, asked in a horrified tone.

The Lorax couldn’t answer. How could he? He didn’t even know what he did. A young Swommie Swan waddled up to him and nuzzled up to his leg. He absentmindedly pet their head, looking up at the handful of trees still dotting the horizon. Maybe it was just him, but the smog in the air seemed to clear just a bit.

“I sent him away.”