Episode Four: Earl

On the surface, Earl Huntington is a jovial man. He is married to Dolly and has two sons, Reb and Jimmy. Earl is a small man, but wiry with brown hair kept in line with Brylcreem. His house and yard do not suffer the indignities of neglect that Junior’s clan, our next-door neighbors, has inflicted on theirs. Like Junior, he drinks a lot. But unlike Junior, he is sometimes taken up on a wave of rage. He’ll beat his children for no reason at all, then let them get away with acts of general larceny without batting an eye. With their shirts off, the boys’ torsos look like crazy quilts. I come upon Jimmy one day stitching up a cut on his thigh with an ordinary needle and thread.

Earl likes to organize things, like the hayride he takes us kids on late one summer Saturday afternoon. He throws a few straws of hay into the bed of his battered truck, and loads us in. Jake and Tyler are along, as are Reb and Jimmy. Dolly is in the cab riding shotgun. Joining us is the aptly named Sharkey Monroe, nee Wayne, a developing sociopath at the age of 12, and one of his brothers. Neil is a sweet boy who has an arm that is withered and useless. The Monroe family can’t afford to have it taken off.

Earl pulls out of his driveway and roars up 78th Street to MacArthur Blvd. He might be a little toasted. He turns west toward Great Falls and the kids roll and bump around in the truck bed as we go zipping along the narrow, winding road. When we arrive at the Great Falls entry, the gate to the park is closed. Earl is not impressed.

The sun is setting, but Earl drives around the gate anyway, flattening vegetation and scraping the sides of the truck against small trees, as the kids in the back duck. There’s still enough light to see by. The park is resting and the swans are clustered together at the canal lock. A few years before a man is killed by one of the swans living here.

There’s a sudden shout as Sharkey springs from the truck bed before Earl even stops. He grabs his brother’s new jacket as he goes over the side and proceeds to run like an uncoordinated toddler. We can’t see what he’s chasing, but soon enough he stumbles up to it and throws the jacket over it.

Instantly, we know what it is. Sharkey shrieks and jumps back, clawing at his eyes and leaving his brother’s new—now used —jacket trailing along behind the skunk, draped on its rump and tail as it walks calmly away. After about 10 feet, the jacket drops off and lies in an ugly pile. No point in retrieving it.

Uh oh. It’s going to be an unpleasant ride home.

We're all holding our noses, which doesn’t help much, as Sharkey climbs back into the truck, surly with embarrassment. We all move as far away as possible, which isn’t far. Earl jumps out of the cab and comes back to where we huddle.

“God damn it, Sharkey,” Earl shouts. “What the hell’s the matter with you!? Are you a fucking idiot?”

Great Falls, Maryland

Evidently so, but the rest of us keep our mouths shut and our noses pinched, opening our mouths only to grab a quick, foul breath. I begin to cry. My brothers claim I do this on purpose, but it is so awful watching Sharkey glower with growing anger over his adventure gone awry. He scares me.

Earl glares at me. “What are you crying for?”

Dolly sticks her head out of the truck cab. “Oh, for God’s sake, Earl. Bring her up here and let’s get going.”

I’m passed into the cab, where the smell is better, but still pretty bad.

It is, indeed, an unpleasant ride home.