Trufellas

 “The name was your mistake,” I growled.  “Arrogant.  ’Bottom Shelf Goods?’  What are bottom shelves if not low racks?”

“Yes, very clever, Onceler,” he responded.  “But nobody needs you.  Not anymore.  I’ve got what they need.  I’ve got what everyone needs.”

“Well, I’ve got this.”  He didn’t react to the gun, but I could tell he was surprised by the tilt of his mustache.

“We were almost finished here anyway,” he said.  Then he simply picked himself up and carried himself away.  I didn’t shoot.  I didn’t dare.

After all, one day the Lorax and his friends might come back...