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.....

And all that the Lorax left here in this mess was a small pile of rocks, with one word... "UNLESS." Whatever that meant, well, I just couldn't guess...


So... "Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care. Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air."

Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.....