No more trees. No more Thneeds. No more work to be done. So, in no time, my uncles and aunts, every one, all waved me good-bye. They jumped into my cars and drove away under the smoke-smuggered stars.

"You're glumping the pond where the Huming-Fish hummed! No more can they hum, for their gills are all gummed. So I'm sending them off. Oh, their future is dreary. They'll walk on their fins and get woefully weary in search of some water that isn't so smeary."

"What's more," snapped the Lorax. (His dander was up.) "Let me say a few words about Gluppity-Glupp. Your machinery chugs on, day and night without stop making Gluppity-Glupp. Also Schloppity-Schlopp. And what do you do with this leftover foo?... I'll show you. You dirty old Once-ler man, you!"

"And so," said the Lorax, "-- please pardon my cough -- they cannot live here. So I'm sending them off."