The Lorax adjusted his tiny orange helmet and squinted across the battlefield.
“I am the Lorax,” he muttered, gripping a comically small megaphone, “and I speak for the trees… which are currently very stressed about all this yelling.”
Across the field, two armies faced off dramatically. Drums pounded. Flags waved. Someone tripped over a rock.
The Lorax stomped forward. “Excuse me! Before anyone charges—has anyone considered… not doing this?”
A general blinked. “Not… doing war?”
“Yes! Revolutionary idea, I know,” the Lorax said, pulling out a clipboard. “I’ve got a list of alternative activities: group hugs, planting saplings, competitive knitting—”
A cannon fired loudly in the distance.
The Lorax sighed. “Alright, new plan.” He planted a tiny seed right in the middle of the battlefield.
“What’s that going to do?” a soldier asked.
“Give it a second.”
Within moments, a massive tree shot up, branches spreading everywhere, lifting soldiers, cannons, and one very confused horse off the ground.
Everyone dangled there in stunned silence.
The Lorax crossed his arms. “Congratulations. You are now all… tree decorations.”
A long pause.
“…Now,” he said, “who wants to talk about their feelings?” 🌳
