AN: many thanx and shoutout to PerrythePlatypusGirl for inspirado on her drawing 'Haircuts'
Sooner or later, God's gonna cut you down -Johnny Cash
The rooster crowed outside...the ten-year-old skinny boy blinked his eyes. Though it was barely dawn, he knew what he had to do. The rest of the family wasn't going to do it. He stretched and yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, scratching his mop of black hair. He quietly tiptoed down the stairs, put away the dinner dishes from last night from the drying rack. He got used to getting up early in the morning to cook and clean for his family. He liked being up before everyone else, enjoying the solitude and silence. Sometimes he would watch the sunrise on the porch.
After Daddy died, life got worse for Once-ler. Momma did whatever she could to crush the young boy's spirit...encouraging the other family members to do so. He was often ignored, abused and humiliated. He was excluded from everything and punished for no reason. He even became the family scapegoat.
Yet despite the mistreatment of his family, the boy remained ever optimistic and kind.
As Once-ler got older, the house was in disrepair and messy since no one cared to take care of it. Once-ler became a slave in his own home: cooking, cleaning, whatever work he could on the farm. He read about how to fix stuff since the farm had fallen in such a state.
His family was poor. They lived on welfare and often had second-hand clothes. Yet, he found it quite interesting that Momma often bought herself something trendy or she did something with her hair and nails. There was one time she went out and came back with a red fox stole on her neck. He and his brothers went hungry; mostly him. He wondered why she got to have new stuff, but the boys got second-hand things. He figured it was best not to ask.
He grabbed one of his mother's aprons, tying it around his skinny waist. He pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes, stirring them. Then he heated up the stove. He plopped a pat of butter into the pan, swishing it around to get it nice and slick so the pancakes wouldn't stick. He poured the batter into the pan and made a stack of pancakes. The smell was so tempting...it made his stomach twist into knots. He had gone to bed hungry last night after a long day of cooking and cleaning. It was often that he went hungry and he got so skinny.
Brett and Chet came running downstairs; two fourteen-year-old burly boys. They shoved past Once-ler, grabbing the plate of pancakes, gobbling it up like pigs. They ate so sloppily, getting crumbs, maple syrup and butter all over the place. Once-ler tried reaching for some, only to be punched in the ribs by Chet; he groaned and doubled over, clutching the bruised spot.
"Mine!" they said.
"You need to save some for everyone else," Once-ler protested. "Momma's not gonna like it if there's no food for her."
"Tough," said Brett.
"C'mon, fellas! I'm hungry too." he whined.
The twins smirked mischieviously as they got an idea to torment their younger brother.
"Y'wanna eat?" said Chet.
"Order up!" laughed Brett. "Today's special: floor pancakes."
"No!" Once-ler exclaimed as he watched in horror as the food was dumped on the floor, pancakes and maple syrup and all!
Once-ler fell on his knees and frantically picked it up. No way he could allow Momma to eat food that was on the floor. It was unacceptable. He didn't know whether to throw it away or eat it. It seemed a waste to throw it away...and he was starving.
Taking a deep breath, he ate the floor pancakes. Chet and Brett made barking sounds, laughing hysterically; Once-ler knew that was their way of calling him a dog. He ignored them. It was better to eat off the floor than go hungry. There were times that he was so hungry that he would lick the remains off the plates or find some food on top of the trash to eat...it was shameful but he did it anyway.
Sighing, he got up and grabbed a rag to wipe up the sticky mess on the floor with some soap and water. Now he had to figure out what to feed everyone else. Brett and Chet left nothing...and ruined the rest of the pancakes, which he had forced himself to eat for their amusement.
Well, at least I got to eat. No digging in the trash today. Once-ler thought, trying to see the bright side.
With a shrug, he got up and dusted himself off, then went to get the pancake ingredients to make another batch. Maybe Momma would hate the pancakes he made for his brothers. He would make hers perfect. As long as his Momma was happy, that's all that mattered. She was difficult to please, but he was willing to do better for her sake. After all, his Daddy told him to respect and love his Momma. Yet, Once-ler wondered if she did love him at all. She always told him that he was a bitter disappointment.
But nonetheless, he was willing to not to disappoint her and make her happy. He would love her and cherish her like any good son would.
He heard the shuffle of feet coming towards the kitchen. Momma and Aunt Grizelda, both had curlers in their hair and bathrobes and slippers. Uncle Ubb was shuffling behind them, scratching himself.
"WHERE'S BREAKFAST, ONCIE?!" screeched Isabella.
His heart pounding, Once-ler came out of the pantry with his arms full of pancake ingredients and coffee grinds.
"It's coming," he said. "Brett and Chet ate it all..."
"Then you should've told them to save some for us," she scolded.
"I...I tried, Momma," he fumbled, his fingers twitching.
"I have to say, Oncie," she said, shaking her head with a frown. "You disappoint me."
"I'm sorry, Momma," he said, lowering his head in shame.
Oncie: how he was so eager to please his Momma. How much he wanted her love and approval. And yet no matter how many times he tried, she cut him down. But he always got back up...with a positive attitude. Isabella had to admit she liked the boy's spirit...his determination to please. She tried to crush him, telling him he would amount to nothing...he was...
Nothing.
He made a new batch of pancakes for the rest of his family, covered in smears of flour. He tossed in some eggs and bacon after he made another stack of pancakes. His arms shaking as he carried the plates over and served the adults in his family. He poured the freshly made coffee and brought it over. He watched his Momma in hopes the breakfast he made would please her; his blue eyes round with anxious excitement.
"There's too much cinnamon and it tastes dry," she criticized. "Coffee is too bitter and hot. And the bacon has fat! I told you no fat EVER!"
"Dumb boy," sneered Aunt Grizelda.
"I'm sorry," said Once-ler; his spirit deflated when he heard this from his Momma. He failed her again.
"A better apology would be to not to mess up again, Oncie," said Isabella.
Once-ler nodded, his round cheeks were red with shame. "You're right, Momma. I won't mess up again."
While the family ate, he cleaned up. He felt tears, but brushed them away quickly. Momma said crying was unmanly. He had to be a man now that Daddy was gone.
When his family finished eating, they left the dirty plates behind: crumbs and sticky bits of maple syrup were left behind by his greedy family. There was not a scrap of food left for him. His belly growled. He was still hungry. Making sure no one was looking, he licked the plates clean in a frenzy.
After washing the dishes, he went into the pantry and dug out a secret stash of marshmallows that he hid in a place that nobody knew about. His hunger was satisfied...for now. He always felt better whenever he had marshmallows; it always put a smile on his face. He got to work cleaning the house.
Once-ler had spent the entire day cleaning and cooking. He was exhausted: he was on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor until it shined. His fingers were raw and his knees were sore, his body was stiff from staying the same position all day. He dusted, swept the porch, cleaned the windows, vacuumed the soft chairs and rugs. He was ever glad it was bedtime because that meant stories!
Bedtime stories were Once-ler's favorite time. Daddy used to read to him and his brothers. Now Momma read them...with reluctance. Once-ler would put on his pajamas and brush his teeth. Brett and Chet never did. Their teeth were rotting, jagged and broken. He wanted to hear a bedtime story along with Brett and Chet. He was never included. Maybe this time would be different. He always kept a positive attitude.
Momma came in with a sour expression, holding a book to read to the boys. She hated this, but only if it would get them to sleep. Lord knows she hadn't had a decent moment to herself since she got pregnant with the twins when she was a teenager. She was still bitter from the two men who left her: the twins' rich daddy who lied to her about supporting her babies, then disappeared. Her parents turned their backs on her, refusing to take her in.
"You made your bed, Bella," they said. "Now lie in it."
Only a teenager, pregnant with twins, homeless and penniless...and that's the kindness she got from her family: a door slammed in the face. She moved in with her sister, Grizelda and her husband Ubb. After their birth, she endured two nightmares: it was twice the food, diapers, laundry, mess and sleepless nights of endless screaming. Her beauty faded from being poor and exhausted from parenthood.
When Oncie was born, he was an easy baby. Plus his Daddy was more than willing to take care of him while she slept. Oncie's Daddy loved the twins and they called him Daddy since they knew no other. She could care less. They already ruined her life and her body. And now he left. He wanted only his son. Nothing else. No! Isabella wanted to punish the man she once loved for leaving her by keeping the one thing he cherished.
Often times there were letters and phone calls from him, wanting to talk to Oncie. She sent back all the letters and hung up when he called. After a while, it stopped. He gave up...just like the loser he was. Good riddance!
The boys were in their pajamas, ready for bed. There was the worthless little beatnik dressed in hand-me-down pajamas, hugging his knees as he sat with the twins. Just seeing him disgusted her and thought of ways to exclude him. She sometimes involved her older sons to go along with it.
"Oncie, go brush your teeth," she said.
"Already did, Momma," he said, smiling to show her.
Of course. The little shit was such an ass-kisser. A good boy. How much he wanted to please her.
"No, you didn't. I can still see they're dirty."
"But..." he protested.
"Did you just say 'but'?" she seethed. "No story until you brush those teeth."
The boy flinched a little, scared. "O-OK, Momma."
Once-ler went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He really wanted to hear the story tonight. He remembered what his Daddy told him: be a good boy and listen to your Momma.
Soon as he finished, Momma was already reading. He was a bit disappointed that he missed some of the story; he remained positive and hoped to hear the rest. Momma stopped reading as soon as she saw his round face. Even the twins were quiet.
"I brushed my teeth, Momma!" he said with a proud smile. "Just like you asked. Now can I hear the story?"
"He's lying," said Chet as if on cue.
Once-ler's face fell in shock. He looked very confused.
"What? No!" Once-ler insisted. "I swear I did!"
"What did I tell you about lying, Oncie?" said Isabella.
"That it's bad," he said, his fingers twitching.
"And what happens when we lie in this house?"
Once-ler gulped, trembling. "We get punished," he replied.
Once-ler never told a lie in his life. Even if he did, he wasn't good at it either. He lied only once when he was eight. When Momma asked him if he ate all the cookies out of the jar. He didn't want to admit that he did because he was starving, so he denied it. Momma knew he was lying and punished him by having him bend over the kitchen chair. She called his brothers in to witness this. She took out a belt and beat him with it right on his bare bottom. The sound of leather snapping and the painful stinging on his flesh made him whimper and tears flow. She did this until his backside was so sore and red that he could barely sit down. She told Brett and Chet that's what would happen if they ever told a lie. Once-ler never told another lie after that.
"But I didn't lie, Momma! I swear! I brushed my teeth. I'll show you my toothbrush..." Once-ler continued to insist.
"I don't wanna see it, Oncie," she said. "You lied! Brett said he saw you wet it under the faucet. Right?"
Brett knew it wasn't true. But seeing Momma's glare and bared teeth, he nodded slowly with wide eyes.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Oncie. For lying, you won't be hearing the story tonight."
"B-but Momma..." Once-ler argued weakly.
"No buts, Oncie! You're a filthy, worthless liar! Now, go to bed."
Once-ler lowered his head, his face flushed and his shoulders slumped. He wanted to cry, but Momma said boys were not allowed to. What Momma said went. It wasn't fair, but that's the way it was.
He was about to go to his room...but why should he miss another bedtime story? If you can't join 'em, find another way. Hugging his ratty teddy bear, he sat outside Brett and Chet's room, listening. He smiled to himself as he listened to tonight's story.
Every night, Once-ler would brush his teeth, wait until Momma went in Brett and Chet's room, then sit outside their room to listen. He memorized every story by heart. He heard stories of elves, fairies, knights who fought dragons, princes who climbed up long hair to rescue princesses in towers, and sprites, the magical beings that lived in the forests making things grow. He closed his eyes and imagined everything going on in the stories, smiling to himself. Momma read it in a monotonous voice. She made it boring. Once the story was over, Once-ler would move quickly to his room. Then Momma would kiss the twins goodnight. He never got a kiss goodnight. He would think positive and hope that he would, sitting up and waiting for one...but it never happened.
One night, Momma was no longer interested in reading bedtime stories. The twins looked at each other and went towards Once-ler's room, knocking. Their younger brother opened the door, seeing them standing there, holding the book. The twins may be older than him, but they had child-like minds. He wasn't going to be mean to them.
"OK," said Once-ler.
The twins smiled. Once-ler took over bedtime stories from then on...and told it with more feeling. It was exciting! He finally got to be a part of bedtime stories.
Once-ler's clothes were hand-me-downs from his brothers; they were three sizes too big and often they had holes: the shirts hung off him that he had to roll up the sleeves and fell off his thin shoulders. His ass hung out of the top of his pants and they kept falling off of him that he had to use a rope to keep them up. His shoes were second-hand, often full of holes or broken. Kids laughed at him and his brothers at school.
Aside from his clothes, he hated the haircuts he and his brothers had to get before school started. They couldn't afford to go to the barber so Momma had to do it. And she did a terrible job. He recalled the first time it happened.
"Boys!" Isabella called. "Get in here!"
The three boys went to the kitchen. He sat with his brothers. Momma set a chair in the middle of the room with a white towel.
"You all need haircuts," she said. "School is starting soon."
Once-ler frowned. First, the did the twins. He watched as they sat there stupidly. When they were done, they seemed happy with the job Momma did.
It was Once-ler's turn. He pouted as he slowly sat in the chair and Momma wrapped the white towel around his neck. Momma ran her fingers through the messy locks of his jet black hair. There was a metallic snip of scissors and jet black swirls tumbled to the ground.
"Gosh, Oncie!" groaned Momma. "Why does your hair have to be impossible?! Why couldn't you have nice thin hair like your brothers?"
Once-ler rolled his eyes. "I apologize for inheriting the genes from you," he replied sarcastically.
She smacked him on the back of the head. He let out a small cry of pain.
"OW!" he cried. "Great Jehoshaphat, Momma! That hurts!"
"I'll have none of your back-talk, Oncie," she responded harshly. "Now sit still!"
When she was finished, Once-ler looked in the mirror and saw his horrible haircut. It looked like it was done by a blind monkey. He was so ashamed of his appearance. He couldn't go to school like this. He would get laughed at...he had to deal with it with his big clothes and broken shoes.
He saw his Daddy's grey fedora and smiled to himself. No way he was going to show his new haircut. Though the hat was big on him, it was better than getting teased.
When the first day of school started, the three boys went out to the main road to wait for the bus. Once-ler hated and loved school. He hated that his classmates made his life a living hell, but he loved learning. The library became a second home to him. He liked to bury himself in books and read everything. Though the farm had fallen in disrepair, he wanted to fix it up. He learned about how to use tools, how to fix things...his favorite was understanding the mechanics of machines and inventions. He was very smart in his class. He tried not to be a teacher's pet otherwise he'd get teased. Common names for him: string bean, goody two-shoes, Mr. Know-it-all, beanpole, farm boy...plumber (due to his pants being too big and his ass often hanging out of it).
He slowly entered the classroom, seeing kids milling around. As soon as the big-clothed, quiet farm boy came in, they stared for a moment and whispered and pointed at him, stifled giggles. Once-ler ignored them and sat quietly at his desk. He opened his book...then the teacher came in and everyone was quiet, sitting at their desks. She greeted them and everyone repeated the greeting back to the teacher. Then it was roll-call...until she reached Once-ler's name, eyeing the small boy with an oversized grey fedora.
"Mr. Once-ler," said the teacher. "You know you're not supposed to wear hats in class."
He sat there silently, looking up with his blue eyes, blushing. He was scared now. What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to disobey the teacher, but he didn't want to get teased either. He felt the eyes of his classmates boring into him as the teacher spoke to him.
"Please take off your hat, Mr. Once-ler."
The kids were snickering now, hands clapped behind mouths with razor sharp smiles. They had a feeling he was hiding something on account of his red cheeks and how he looked uncomfortable.
"Are you deaf?" the teacher said firmly. "I said take off your hat."
"No," he responded almost quiet but defiant.
The teacher shook her head, unsure if she heard what she thought he said. The snickering and whispers came to a halt. They stared with wide eyes.
"Excuse me?" the teacher said incredulous.
Once-ler flushed a deeper red, not speaking a word. He was surprised himself that he said this.
"Mr. Once-ler, take off your hat right now!"
"No!" he said more firmly.
There were gasps from the students, wide eyes and hisses of whispers as the goody two-shoes openly defied a teacher. The teacher was angry and surprised that this boy was acting so rebellious. Once-ler was usually a good boy, smart.
"Get up here right now, Mr. Once-ler!" barked the teacher.
There were now 'oohs' from his classmates. Once-ler frowned, stiffly got up and slunk towards the teacher's desk, burning from his ears to his neck. He felt ashamed that he did this, but then again, he didn't want anyone to see his horrible haircut. It always seemed like everyone was picking on him. It wasn't fair. He watched as the teacher picked up the chalk and began to write on the blackboard:
I WILL NOT BE INSUBORDINATE
"Do you know what that word means, Mr. Once-ler?" she asked, pointing to the last word.
He nodded, sucking in his lips, full of chagrin.
"Well, what does it mean?"
"Disobedient," he said flatly.
There were whispers of the usual names he was called. The teacher glared at the kids and they shut up.
"You will write this one hundred times, Mr. Once-ler," said the teacher, handing him the chalk. "Then you will stay during recess, clapping the erasers."
Once-ler turned to the blackboard and wrote those words that were broadcasted in front of the entire class. He wrote and erased until his arm was sore. During recess, the kids pointed and laughed at the punished Once-ler, who sneezed and clapped the erasers as they emitted clouds of dust; by the time he was finished, he was covered with white chalk dust. He would rather endure this humiliation than what he would've gone through if anyone had found out about his haircut.
He wore his Daddy's fedora to hide his haircut. After that, he decided no more haircuts. Once his hair grew back...he sort of took a liking to wearing his Daddy's hat. It made him feel closer to him. He might've been gone, but he always lived in his heart...smiling down on him from heaven.
AN: Ik some of you are going to say that his Dad abandoned him. YES, he did. But Once-ler BELIEVES he's dead.