The Once-ler Fan Club

Dear “Ineffably e”,

There’s no great need to customize a Thneed, cuz my Thing can change into anyThing a body requires. You’d be hard-pressed to figure out a form or function the plain old original Thneed can’t fill. Still, there is a demand out there for personalization (mostly through different proportions or mixed materials) and I’m happy to oblige. Sometimes a customer with impeccably good taste will request a reproduction of some or other Thneed gear I designed for myself that they caught in a photo. Some want their thneed made with an exotic flavoring or scented with something other than butterfly milk. These are not off the ol’ Assembly Line but knitted by hand to the measurements in question and sold at a premium. The clients of this couture made-to-order division of the company include celebrities and notables from far and wide.

Besides that, thneeds altered to adapt more easily to a particular service (mops, beds, stuffed animals, nylons, upholstery, floss, curtains, food, toothbrushes…) can be spotted readymade on a store shelf near you, since they’re all featured in the Thneed Inc product lines. Companies can order these in bulk if they need a whole mess to outfit their employees with, but a few times a company needed something specific outside of what is already offered. In these cases, too, we were cool with whipping up whatever, according to their specifications. People know my patented Thneed fibers are second to none when it comes to quality, usability, gentleness, absorption, durability, a thorough clean, you name it.

The funkiest customized thneed ever conceived was—and it’s a tough one to call—a swanky little number laced with 24 karat gold thread and diamond dust. It also had to glow in the dark and reveal a Peter Max painting under black light, while smelling like Chanel No. 5. Oh yeah, and it had to be crocheted instead of knitted.

The requester is under wraps, but suffice it to say the cat was loaded.

Yours truly,

Dear Everyone,

I’m getting the feeling we might be wanting some different Thneed-types here. Just a hunch. If I’m right, not a problem. Lucky for you, variety in the marketplace is the spice of—…the marketplace!

Thneeds come in several colors, all naturally produced by the plants themselves. Firstly, there’s of course pink, my bestseller and the most recognizable representative for all Thneeds:

Then there’s purpley, orangey, yellowy, and reddish. As best I can figure it, “fuchsia” is a sort of a variation of purpley.

Now, I was mightily thrilled to find the perfect material for my Thneed in the brightly-colored tufts of the Truffula Trees©. I’d never seen anything so cheery or gay in my everloving life, except maybe in a taffy or sorbet. Anyway, that cinched the deal on Truffula Tufts© being the choosiest choice for my invention, as far as I’m concerned. In the age of plastics, I knew my new product had to pop. And these trees were doin’ that all by themselves!

But now we’re in a whole new age, and only five original colors just don’t cut it these days. The world’s ready for expanding options, to get turned on and way out with kaleidoscopes of crazy looks. I owe it to my customer base to provide whole new Things to try on for size.

In that interest, the newest diversification measure of my product offerings is a whole new color range. That’s blue, green, white, brown, black, and tie-dye!

If there’s any other kinds or colors (or patterns or pictures or, perhaps, pop art) of Thneed you think would make a cherry addition to my line-up, drop me a line and I’ll give it a look-over.

Yours truly,

It’s good to see you back, Mr. Once-ler! Pardon my scribbly mess, but have you ever tried s'mores? They’re made of melted chocolate and marshmallows sandwiched between two graham crackers. Super yummy! Just don’t do what I did and get molten chocolate plastered to the top of your mouth. Ouch. Anyway, please enjoy this plate of comically-oversized s'mores.

Signed,

25-year-old-NOT-a-junior-high-student chibibug

P.S. Tell Miss O’Shmunch-ler she has the BEST name.

—–

Dear “Chibi Bug”

Same to you, sweet pea!

Uh, actually—were you here before? Regardless, welcome, take a load off, make yourself comfortable. It’s real nice of you to take the time and fix me this. Sorry I been such a stranger lately. Gee, I missed you guys. What’s it been?—a month? Two? Three? Eight? Can’t have been that long, but it nearly feels like it. I done you all wrong, and I aim to make amends straight off. Starting with answering this fan club’s backlogged letters. So stick around!

As for s’mores: yes ma’am, sure have. And they’re boss. Though yeah, that is the danger, ain’t it? But you can rest easy; I’ve developed a finesse to this whole eating melty desserts thing. You just can’t scarf the stuff. It’s all got to do with seizing the right moment to strike. And chewing method, of course. It’s an art, really. Anyway, can’t say a man can beat a confectious treat ready-made without the need for building a campfire in my office. Just goes to show the convenience of modernity. Thanks a heap!

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

I’d like to tell you all a story. It’s a fine illustration of my relationship with my family.

See, we didn’t always get on.

Way back in the days before sliced bread and frozen tv dinners and instant coffee, there was a little old cabin tucked in the trees on a mountainside and I lived in it. Me and my folks, that is. We were sharecroppers down south, in the woods just west of Kinchafoonee. The place was wanting of electricity, running water, and right about anything else you can think of.

Here you go! I hope you enjoy~!

----

Dear Dakota,

Hey, I’m set. All the hoping you’ve gotta do is hope these beauties last the next few seconds. Much obliged, sugar pie!

Marshmallows’ve near always been my favorite confection, though I sure am partial in particular to these cool concoctions right here. You’d suppose a connoisseur like myself would happen around to a marshmallow-brownie combination sometime during his life, but, what do you know. I mightn’t’ve never come across them if it hadn’t been for you. The universe is full of mysteries as rich as they are vexing, and the only thing man can do is—well, I ain’t got a singular clue but in this case I’m gonna eat me some of them brownies.  

Yours truly,

Dear Dakota,

Baby. Please. You never have to ask. Don’t you know that marshmallows are the balm to this man’s weary soul? If you should have the inclination, send it right on over to Ye Annex, your very own verified address for packages or veritable victuals of any variety. Same goes for all of y’all reading: if you’ve anything for the Thing King, such as whodads or doodads or desserts or whosmawhatsits or desserts or thingamabobs or, say, desserts—you can send ‘em to me directly at that address.

Thank you kindly for the generous offer, little Miss Jenkins! It ain’t every day a man can obtain a delicacy of this order for nothing at all.

Yours truly,

Dear Miss Jaimie,

Another letter from you, and another message having something to with food. I like you. You’re speakin’ my language. But, Jaimie, I read this one once, and I read it again, because I figured I misread it, and then I read it a third time, and I tried to understand it, and I don’t reckon I misread it, and correct me if I did—but why would anybody eat a piece of toast upside-down? Maybe I’m outta touch, maybe this is one of those cryptic messages y’all’ve sent me that means something different. But if not, why? Why eat your toast butter-side down? What’s the benefit? So you can hold it like that and get your fingers all buttery?

To make it easier for it to land that way?

For an unnecessarily messy eating experience?

To adhere to a smooth surface?

I mean, help me out here. I’m old enough to remember when sliced bread came out, and I gotta say this is anything but the best idea since.

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

First off. Friends, I’m sitting here with a piping hot mug of Dr. Pepper thinking about that real gone cat all dressed up in red who dropped off thousands of Thneeds last night and it is very heartwarming. Congratulations to the nice kids who got ‘em. How did I know? Oh, I happen to have it on good authority.

As to the sender. So you don’t think green is creative, huh? Well, that’s your opinion, you’re entitled to it. But I’ll have to respectfully disagree with you on that one. Today especially. Y’see, green is the color of nature, youth, wealth, and, well—the Holidays. That’s probably due to several traditions, the first being the bringing in of evergreen trees from the cold forests to the merry yuletide hearth. Another being the song “Greensleeves”, which King Henry the VIII wrote about some chick he was hung up on named Anne Boleyn. Incidentally, “Greensleeves” is also something folks called me way back when. I picked the color out ‘cause of its character. It’s got that bright liveliness that’ll jump out at you in a world filled up with black suits, but still classic, y’know, something formally refined in its vibration. Due in part to the aforementioned. Kinda wild, but not too weird. In the new old-fashioned way.

Anyway, a very merry number-8-parenthesis to you too, Anony.

Yours truly,

Dear Miss Didney,

Gotta hand it to you, honey, you’re sure persistent. Y’know, you’ve got a little touch of that good kind of crazy a body needs in order to snatch up what they want outta this world. (Just so happens I’m an expert in that field of psychology.) You’ll go far my friend--just not in this particular direction. But, I’m thinking a sharp kid like you figured on the nature of our predicament here already. Right? It’s nothing against you personal, sugar; just the facts. Yet I know you’re serious about this; otherwise you wouldn’t’ve sent me two completely identical love letters in a row! How’s about I promise you this: I’ll send you all my love in this letter,

sealed with a kiss.

Signed,

Dear Anony,

Sure do! I love Dick!

I’m for Richard Nixon in ’69 all the way. Best man for the job. Now while I’m the “Once-ler-in-Chief" I’m certainly not the Commander-in-Chief—but I’ve picked up a thing or two about politics in my time as the public leader of a fine city called Thneedville. I also know politics oughtn’t to be a subject of polite conversation, both because it’s awful boring, and because it’s rude to spout on freely about in mixed company. To be anything less than nonpartisan here would be inappropriate! But I’ll give you some idea of my reasons for preferring Dick over any other choice in this stiff competition. I mean, let’s not pretend you asked me anything else. Simple as I can tell it, here’s why I’d erect Dick President:

1.) THEY CAN’T LICK THIS DICK. There’s a “new Nixon” in town. The Republican party’s back on top these days, and Dick’s the member that stands tallest. People want reliable new leadership with the kind of fresh tricks that’ll fix us up for a bright future.

2.) DICK’S GOT MY BACK. Nixon understands that corporations are an indispensable part of the machinery keeping the free-market alive in the free world—our best guard against Communism. What’s more, he sees businesses for what they are: agents of progress.

3.) DICK GOES DEEP. The U.S. is in deep trouble now, in more ways than one. Dick means to dive right in and bring unity, peace, stability, greatness back to America. He’ll wrangle the issues that’ve gotta urgently be addressed, not the tired problems of the past. He’ll shove right through the noise to answer the call of the taxpaying, churchgoing majority.

4.) DICK’ll GIVE IT TO ‘EM ROUGH. The reality: rioting has been escalating and the crime rate continues to rise, which threatens the safety of law-abiding citizens like us. Nixon’ll be tough on crime, and he’s got it right when he says “law and order” is the only real way to progress.

Wallace and Humphrey have got their draws, but Dick’s got the qualifications to really pound out some change. It’s a tough choice between these three fellas, especially since times feel so uncertain. But personally, I like me some Dick, so “Nixon’s the one” for Once-ler.

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

I promise you, sweetheart, whoever that man may be, the art of figuring the answer cannot fall to me. The art of disguise, however, has fallen tonight on every house, street, and school: every boy and girl is a bogey, a witch, a vampire, a ghoul! As you know, I’m partway disguised every day. Well, tonight, I’m throwing a kooky bash, and I’ll be disguised in a different way.

I’m calling it the Magical Mysterious Monster Masque (that mouthful’ll sure raise the dead from their casks). Brewing up fun celebrations like these is how I strive to be the charming host you, anony, imagine me. When the weirdies and freaks from the River Styx need to get their spooky fix, they just call my hotline for some kicks—area code 519, double-0, 6. But for the uninvited there is much to fear, ‘cause the art of Black Magic is practiced here…

…under a thin but effective veneer.

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

You’re lookin’ at it!

This deceivingly simple chair is actually a state-of-the-art vehicle with all the modern trappings and conveniences. (That’s right, it’s even got an eight-track stereo tape system built right in.) Whenever it happens I need to get elsewhere in the factory, I can just hop aboard this beauty, pop in some sounds, and ride on down the halls with ease. No expense of energy, little loss of time, and efficiency is ensured without having to so much as get up out of my seat. I’ve got a whole mess of these in different rooms around the place, so no matter where I am or what I’m doing, I can speed off where I’m needed.

Zippy indoor transport—betcha that’s what every building’ll be equipped with in the future.

In the now, though, for all of you reading this at home, I’d recommend the SECOND best mode of transportation: the Öncelermobile. It’s got class, it’s got convenience, it’s got cool, it’s a gas! The choicest car on the road. And I ain’t just sayin’ that because I manufacture it. So go ahead and tell your folks, and if you’re old enough to drive, well, then, tell yourself.

Yours truly,

Dear Anony,

That is an excellent question. In fact, every once in a while I sit down with myself and ask me the same thing.

Dear “SXO 4 Ever” and “Pink Lemonade Loves Me”,

Y’all had similar questions, so I’m gonna knock ‘em out with one swing. Hope you girls don’t mind.

I’ve had an inclination for making and listening to music for about as far back as I can remember. Used to pluck the old banjo and yodel up the mountainside like any good hayseed down in dixie-land sure as you’re born. I also tried my hand at the washboard, the washtub bass, the harmonica, the fiddle, the jug, the spoons, the bones, and the mountain zither. All that came in handy when I ran off to sell patent medicines with a traveling show, which consequentially taught me the benefits of selling snake oil with the help of musical accompaniment.

But, see, things really got rolling when I found an old guitar under a shade tree by the churchyard one day when I was a kid.

It had just plain popped up out of nowhere, and I felt like I oughta take the thing, so I did. Folks got to saying I made a deal with the devil in them tombstones seeing as I got good at guitar-pickin’ so fast. But THAT is definitely, definitely maybe just a rumor. Truth is I listened to a lot of those old-time backwoods blues that was played locally and whenever I could find it on record or radio, studying it closely. Learned from the best playing right on porches out under tin roofs. From out of that, rock n’ roll came around and I was set. I even had a small rock n’ roll outfit of my own when I was a teen-ager. That is until we got run outta town on account a’ playing the devil music.

As for the kind of music I enjoy, right now I’m turned onto heavy rock for the most part!

Some modern groups I dig are: Iron Butterfly, Steppenwolf, Cream, Blue Cheer, Status Quo, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, Deep Purple, The Mind Garage, Vanilla Fudge, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, The Doors, Buffalo Springfield, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Zombies, Yardbirds, The Band, Traffic, The Chambers Brothers, The Kinks, Pink Floyd—to name just a few. And if we’re spanning genres here, I can’t leave off mentioning the soulful sounds of James Brown, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson…but I’ll cut it short there. You get the idea—I appreciate just about anything so long as the groove is tight!

What’s more, if any of you out there can give me the word on some new music, I’m always open to suggestions. I mean, if anyone’s really hep to what’s hot, it’s kids like yourselves.

Yours truly,

GOSH DARN IT I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO PULL OFF A FRESH PRINCE

———-

Dear Didney,

Well if it ain’t little miss Time Traveler, never ceasing to amaze. 

I gotta hand it to you, this is a first. I get a package with a reel in it after I send out the last letter, and find myself watching a scene from some TV program I’ve never heard of! You done gone and baffled me all over again. I can’t rightly say I know how to make heads or tails of this other than that it’s something you beamed back from the future…where you’ve also seen those movies about me. The plot thickens. I’ve got my hideously disfigured eye on you, space girl. As a matter of fact, Didney (if that’s even your REAL name), I’m only gonna send this letter to you, so it stays classified—for the protection of the American public. Besides, it’s not as if I have a sizable income to make a bunch of copies of the reel with, and to ship ‘em out to everybody so they can see it for themselves! Oh wait, I do.

Yours truly,