A Man's Duty

Spirina: Thank you very much for your insightful review, you're correct in assuming that my spell check didn't catch any of the mistakes you mentioned, so I'm deeply grateful that you were able to point them out with such detail. I would have fixed them earlier, but I was working on the last chapter to another story of mine and didn't want to accidentally lose the flow I'd built up in that. Again, thank you very much; I enjoyed hearing your opinion and I'm pleased that you enjoyed reading enough to leave me a review, I only wish I was able to give you a proper response; but this will have to do. I have fixed the mistakes you have graciously pointed out and hope I write more stories in the future that you might like enough to leave a word or two. n.n (By the way, formal and informal reviews? I love them both, they've each got unique characteristics that make me happy.)

Summery: Once-ler doesn't care if a few trees are dying and he doesn't mind if his promises are failing. He was a man, and he would dutifully shoulder his responsibility before anything else and always keep the bottom line in sight.


Once-ler tapped gloved fingers against his desk as he looked at the product reports that had been left behind by his mother the evening before and considered throwing them into the small metal trash bin under his desk and setting it on fire. What did he care if some people complained a little bit over the destruction of the forest, it wasn't his problem that they couldn't see the bigger picture. So what if he cut a tree or two down to earn himself a profit, money was important in society no matter which class you came from; low to high, it made the world go round. The single common factor that all people had, their need of it; was it really so bad of him to want a little piece of the pie so that he could support his family?

The protestors had never experienced the days where the hunger grew so harsh within your belly that it cramped your intestines so tightly you couldn't hardly do anything but breath. The hollowness that you had to suffer through silently because you know your siblings and mother suffered the same problem and you didn't want to make it worse on them. Did they even know what true hunger was? Did they know how badly it could make you feel? Did they know how it felt to wake up and know that you were lucky if there was enough flour to make a pancake mix?

Flinging the papers away he stood up and straightened his pinstriped jacket, twisting his neck and popping it under the collar of his starched white shirt, and grinned at the somewhat barren view his office window provided. Who care if a few trees died if it meant that he and his family would never have to survive off pancakes again and allowed them to live happily together for the first time since his father had passed. He didn't.

He wasn't doing anything wrong, a man was supposed to take care of his family. It was the first lesson his father had ever taught him; family came first even before honor, so breaking promises meant even less to him than the trees he hacked through and he didn't care who knew it. He was proud that he could do that much for his mother, the woman had been forced to do countless even dirtier deeds so that they could pay their rent two months late and she was finally able to live in luxury and comfort.

Turning away from the window and walking across the room to leave the large office he pulled his two hundred dollar sunglasses out of his lapel pocket and pushed them over his eyes; but when he opened the door a slim young woman gazed up at him with sad eyes. He looked down at her, thankful for the glasses that covered his surprise, and arched a curious eyebrow, "Can I help you?"

She swallowed and looked around like she expected his brothers to pop out of no where and cart her off before she could talk to him; which probably wasn't to far away from a possibility. "I want a job." she whispered quietly, twisting her fingers in front of her nervously, "I've been coming by for days to ask, but they always tell me there's no openings so I thought I'd ask you directly."

He nodded, studying the thin wrists and thin waist and was able to easily compare them to his mothers before pulling his wallet out and handing her a smooth hundred, "Use that and get yourself something to work in then come back tomorrow and be ready for work; we don't need anymore help in the factory but there's always notes to be taken and files to be sorted." he told her, holding the bill out for her to take.

It wasn't until the bitter thankfulness crossed her features as she took the money from his fingers with a quick nod that he was able to smile, "Eight sharp, don't be late." he already knew she wouldn't when she stuffed the money in her pocket with a fast bob of understanding. She continued to stand before him until he cleared his throat and made to step around her before she suddenly widened her eyes and pressed her back against the wall so he could leave.

Another hungry soul, another problem solved. It was the second most satisfactory thing about his business that he cherished, the ability to give a job to a needy person; to provide help to those who honestly needed it. Being rich had numerous perks, but being a business owner enabled him to go far past just mere success and thread onto actual power. The same power that many rich people had but few even realized was something that was meant to be shared with others; the power to help people help themselves.

No doubt the girl would take the money he had given her and buy food for herself and her family, saving back only ten or twenty dollars at the most to take with her to the nearest thrift store and search for second hand clothes. When she showed up tomorrow wearing them he would undoubtedly notice the tell-tale hints, but he wouldn't say anything about it even if he spotted a hole or two near the hem of whatever blouse she was lucky enough to find.

He was going to change the world. He was going to make it a better place for everyone.

Who cared if people thought of him as greedy? He would take care of his and let others take care of theirs the best way he knew how and nothing, not the sad eyes of the Lorax or the pouting of a bar-ba-loot, would stop him from doing it. Who cared if a few trees were dying?