Whole Again : A Grinch X Lorax adventure

2: that's odd

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The Grinch didn't know what he'd gotten himself into.

The Ginger prick had somehow managed to use litter, cloths, and snowballs in order to put out the fires. That's not what bothered him; the trees were already pretty much burnt to ash. No point in them being used as Christmas trees.

No.

The issue was that the 'Lorax' had managed to make him help. Meaning he brought himself to justice.

As he hiked up his mountain, he was astonished to find the Lorax still following behind, yapping about how Mother Nature would accept him with open arms if he just apologized.

The Grinch's issue wasn't Nature. Or trees, or anything of the such. He wasn't an arsonist either; that was a last resort and the only solution he could think of in order to stipple that stupid towns cheer. He could hear their applause and laughs from there.

He couldn't.

He just liked finding ways to piss himself off. An excuse.

"God-- would you shut up?!" He snapped at the fuzzy orange ball. Just looking at the thing pissed him off. His eyebrows reminded him of his own length: stupidly and  painfully long, imagine a British singer with cross-eyes. Yes, now the hair of that singer? Same as The Lorax's fur. His mustache was the same shade as his eyebrows, dehydrated shit colour, but it was about the same length as a standardized radiator. It made the Grinch feel like he was about to start cackling and stroking it with two fingers.

"Why?" the Lorax questioned. He was obnoxiously posh. "Wouldn't this be useful information? Mother Nature is asleep, when she awakes--"

"Will she take you away?" The Grinch cut him off. He was tempted to lob the gasoline container directly between the ginger twat's eyes. "If so: lovely!" The grinch exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from his tongue before he muttered, "Can't wait."

"I think you're looking forward to the wrong things," the Lorax raised a bushy eyebrow as he followed The Grinch into a cave, pushing apart a carpet slung to the rocks in order to enter the abode.

It was huge. At least to the Lorax.

There was a bed, a piano with numerous trumpets or trombones or another brass instrument coming out of it, the walls a dirty brown rock. There were carpets along the terrained ground, lamps atop of that. The Lorax's dream home.

Now he was definitely envious.

"Are you going to fuck off now?" the Ginch asked, lazily plopping down into the sofa, pretty much sinking into the pillows, rubbing his beer belly as if he were pregnant.

"I-..." The Lorax stuttered. "... woah.." was all he could muster, longingly staring around the house.

"What? Homeless or something?"

"No, w--"

"THEN GO HOME," The Grinch snapped for a second time. The Lorax was going for a streak.

"uhm..." The Lorax froze. "I don't really get to choose, Y'know? She--"

"If you mention Mother Nature one more time I'll make Rex bite your backside right where that burn is."

"Rex?" The Lorax wondered aloud, maybe a bit too aloud as the small brown dog ran into the room in a fit of barks, unfamiliar to the voice of the Lorax.

CHOMP!

The Lorax cursed, shaking his hand in order to get the dog off. if Mother Nature were there, The Grinch assumed she might find a new guardian with that kind of language being thrown about so easily.

The Grinch laughed, not a small giggle, or snort; he actually enjoyed seeing this obnoxious 'guardian of nature' (like that's a real thing) get hurt. He threw his head back, clutching onto his stomach as the dog continued to bite and claw at the Lorax.

Odd, the Lorax thought as he looked at the Grinch. Seeing him sit there and laugh; not acting like a dick? ... It made him feel weird. He felt strangely open to the idea of getting to know the Grinch, the idea of learning more about him, the idea of finding out his talents, his interests.

That's new.