A 'lil HooHaa

Messing with the blogging world since 2005

Earl

20 Days of Chill: Toilet paper on your shoe (Day 3)

Earl is still a work of fiction – kind of. I haven’t seen the other two guys involved in many years, but because this is a … work of fiction … their first names are used so as not to protect the innocent. Please read previous Earl posts for the back story of how he came to be.

It’s hard waiting inside some out-of-the-way donut shop for Earl to show.

It had been a while since Earl was around, and three of us had made the journey to see him. Me, the Big Easy and Jay were there on time – but we knew Earl wouldn’t be. He never is.

And why would he be? He never seems to have a care in the world and just kind of goes along life with each passing moment like there is never anything else happening.

That’s Earl.

For the nearly 20 years we’ve known Earl, this is how he’s been.

And now, it’s time to wait and see what the hell Earl will do. Heck, he might have even stood us up. We were prepared and everything – a dozen donuts on the table waiting.

Jay reached in and grabbed one.

“I’m not waiting any longer. I’m hungry,” he said, biting into a jelly donut.

And then … it happened

“Wooooooooooooooo weeeeeeeeeeee” somebody yelled, not far away. Instantly, I knew it was Earl. He had a disgusted look on his face as he slowly strolled out of the public restroom at the donut shop.

The other three or four people there looked over as well.

“The coffee here is potent today,” he said as he waltzed out, a smirk running across his face as he saw the three of us.

Turns out Earl actually was on time, but he was … blowing up the bathroom. The counter staff people looked at Earl as if he’d gone mad and then turn their heads in disgust.

He slowly made his way over to us and we couldn’t seem to stop looking at his feet.

He reached in and grabbed a donut … and we all quickly turned to see if he touched more than that one. After all, who knows if Earl actually washed his hands after his pit stop.

“How you boys doing?” Earl asked, louder than needed.

I couldn’t help but to keep staring at his feet, though. Especially when he crossed his leg as dangling from the bottom of his shoe was a long piece of toilet paper.

And Earl seemed absolutely oblivious to that piece of toilet paper as he kept munching away on his donut.

Eventually he noticed all three of us staring at his shoe and he looked down. What followed was a belly laugh and he reached down, and pulled the toilet paper off his shoe, then used both hands to crinkle it up. Finally, he tossed it in a nearby garbage can, before reaching in – without cleaning his hands – for another donut.

“You guys not in the mood for these sweet donuts?” Earl asked as he bit into his glazed donut.

“No,” I said, as I pushed the box of donuts in front of him. “They are all yours.”

There’s no telling where that toilet paper came from, but it didn’t seem to bother Earl. Then again, not much ever seemed to bother him, which is probably why he could keep chomping away at his donuts after yanking the TP off his shoe.

That’s Earl for you, though. Donuts and toilet paper … obviously mix so well!

*****

This post is part of the 2018 20 Days of Chill Writing Challenge hosted by A ‘lil HooHaa. Please check out the link if you’d like to see others or join in. You don’t have to do every theme if you don’t want! And for those participating, take a moment and check out the other participants! This is also part of the 2018 HooHaa Blogging Challenge. 

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” A ‘lil HooHaa on Facebook! You can also follow me on Twitter @softball29!

20 Days of Chill: The day after last night (Day 13)

Earl’s search continued.

It had been days without sleep. He’d been on and off buses in the search of real doughnuts.

Finally, he found a place. This little local shop. He got off the bus at 10 p.m. The way his odd planning went, he had to be on the bus to return home at 11.

One hour. That’s all he needed. Just one hour.

It seemed like it would be about a 10-minute walk before he arrived. He’d get a dozen. Maybe two. He’s probably get a couple of pints of milk, too. Maybe even a bottle of water. It’s a long ride back home on the bus, so he knew he’d need to wash down those doughnuts.

Heck with the chains doughnut places. Those were the ones who turned their back on Earl.

No more.

Earl’s hours of research at the local library — figuring how to use that “Internet thing” — has led him here.

Squared Circle Dougnuts and Sammiches.

The reviews were great. The hours matches his travel schedule. They were open until midnight. Every. Night.

They bragged on the Internet how they had countless types of doughnuts. And Earl was ready. By the time he got home, he’d be in a sugar and doughnut daze.

Then he’d eat the rest the next day.

The bus stopped and he was off on his walk. Ten minutes and he’d have a dougnut. Oh has he been waiting for this.

He walked and walked. No lights. Nothing. What was going on?

Finally, Earl looked around. He saw a sign with a doughnut on it. No lights. He looked at his watch. It was only 10:15. What the hell?

He walked closer and he looked. There was a sign.

“Closed.”

Early stood and stared. He tried the door. Locked. Inside looked pristine and ready. The sign says vacation. So they’ll be back at some time.

But it doesn’t help Earl now. He’s lost. Doughnuts.

Dejected, Earl headed back to the bus stop. He got on and took the long ride home and went right to bed. The next morning was a new start for Earl. He stared out into his room. It was only the start.

It was the day after last night.

And it’s one he’ll remember forever.

This post is part of the 20 Days of Chill Writing Challenge hosted by A ‘lil HooHaa. Please check out the link if you’d like to see others or join in. You don’t have to do every theme if you don’t want! And for those participating, take a moment and check out the other participants! You can see the 2016 themes by clicking here. 

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!

20 Days of Chill: Slim pickings (Day 9)

It had been a few years since I’ve seen Earl.

For those of you who don’t know, Earl is quite the character. There should be way more written about my old pal Earl, alas I just haven’t gotten around to sharing the stories. (if you want to read more about Earl, you can see previous posts by clicking here.)

Earl, you see, isn’t the easiest person to find. Between his quest to reach the PGA and his search of junk food, he’s a hard man to pin down.

Finally, I found him.

I was back in the old stomping grounds not too long ago and I went looking for Earl. It seems nobody had seen him. The main issue? The two donut shops he used to love had shut down.

Now, if you knew Earl, you’d realize that this is a travesty. Earl LOVES donuts. It doesn’t matter what kind of donuts (or how you spell it – donut or doughnut – all the same to Earl), as long as he has his donuts and a fresh cup o’ joe, he’s usually good to go.

So I wandered the town. What had happened to Earl? Where had he gone?

Then he appeared. He was sitting on a park bench staring out into the sky. Next to him was a cup of coffee and a small bag. I quickly approached and when we used to find Earl, he had a twinkle in his eye.

Not so much anymore.

“Earl!” I yelled as I approached. “Where the heck have you been? Nobody has seen you!”

He continued to stare ahead.

I sat down next to him to see if I could get a better feel of what was going on. I stared a little.

“You all right man?”

He let out a deep sigh.

Slowly, he reached next to him and grabbed the small bag. It looked like it had come from one of the local gas stations.

He reached in and pulled out what appeared to be a donut. He turned to me and looked, then looked down at the donut, which obviously was stale. He then crunched it into pieces and let it fall to the ground. This was unheard of with Earl and his love of donuts.

“You OK, Earl? You just massacred a donut”

He looked at me.

“That’s not a donut. That’s crap you find at gas stations.”

If I didn’t know better, I thought a single tear had rolled down his cheek as he looked away.

I was confused. But it turns out Earl’s love of donuts had taken a shot with the closing of the chain spots. He didn’t want boxed donuts. Or ones from gas stations. Heck, he didn’t want the ones from super markets and Walmart. He wanted his donuts.

I assured him he’d have to be able to find some donuts … somewhere, right?

“Not any more,” he said as he stood up. “It’s all slim pickings now.”

Earl then strolled off, his head bowed down toward the ground as he continued his search to find the glory of donuts once again.

This post is part of the 20 Days of Chill Writing Challenge hosted by A ‘lil HooHaa. Please check out the link if you’d like to see others or join in. You don’t have to do every theme if you don’t want! And for those participating, take a moment and check out the other participants! You can see the 2016 themes by clicking here. 

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!

30-2 Days of Writing/Life with Earl: Whatever, dude (17/28)

Life With Earl is a semi-regular feature on A ‘lil HooHaa. For the back story, click “Earl” at the top of the page to see past stories. This is a shorter version of Earl than I’d normally do… but Earl was in a bit of a rush today.

Oh, Earl.

For those who don’t know Earl, allow me to tell you something about him — he loves donuts. When I say love, I mean full-out, unadulterated, unhealthy love.

There are often times we meet Earl at the local Dunkin’ Donuts to chat about what’s going on in the world.

Sometimes, though, it can be hard to absorb Earl’s obsession with donuts.

See, whenever Earl finds out about something — like when it’s time to make the donuts — he’ll go off into an excited tangent. That usually means one of us — me, Jay or the Big Easy — will be getting a call exclaiming pure excitement about the donut and Earl’s love of said donut.

That’s why the early morning wakeup call both surprised me and didn’t surprise me.

“WOOOOOO WEEEEE P.J.!! THERE”S A NEW DONUT!”

“Hi, Earl. Thanks for waking me up for that news report.”

“THERE’S RED VELVET DONUTS AT THE DUNK! RED VELVET! DID YOU HEAR ME? RED VELVET!!”

“I heard you, Earl. No need to shout. It’s six a.m. on a Sunday for goodness sake.”

“THIS IS AWESOME THOUGH!”

“Earl, calm down. It’s red velvet. You realize it’s a cake with some food coloring, right? And I think that donut has been out for a few months. I thought it left with the holidays?”

“NO WAY DUDE! I JUST SAW THE SIGN IN THE WINDOW! WE NEED TO GO!”

Usually, I’m all about meeting up with Earl. See, Earl is a constant source of entertainment for those who know him. And, well, even for some who don’t know him. And, often when he calls, we’ll all get together and go see Earl because we never know what’s on his mind.

This time wasn’t one of them.

Especially at 6 a.m.

Over a donut that may or may not still be in production. But the sign says different.

I just couldn’t handle Earl at this moment. And I needed to get rid of him and turn the phone on silent. So I did it quick.

“Whatever, dude.”

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To read other stories about Earl, click here.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog@gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook!

Life with Earl: The Beginning

Long before there was a sitcom about a guy named Earl, I was writing about a down-home bumpkin named Earl.

It’s true.

During my college days in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I was on the golf course with a few friends. It was a stacked-up day and there were people out hacking around and having major pileups on each tee pad.

When I say hacking, think to the movie Caddyshack when Spaulding is out whacking the ball around:

“Fart!”

“Double fart!”

That was the issue this day. The three of us who had come out to enjoy a round of golf were held up at the 13th tee (which was a long par 5, so an even bigger backup).

It was soon after this moment, that we met Earl. Just three of us. Me, Mike and Jay. Though the legend of Earl grew (and it was humorous to watch certain people act as if they had actually met Earl, but hadn’t) and with that I made Earl a somewhat fictional character for a weekly column in the school newspaper.

Alas, what I had envisioned for Early — a comedy of errors in some less than perfect situations — was thrown aside after a “Hooters” story by one in the journalism department. So I had to make Earl deal with some more “real” issues to keep him in the paper.

So I did that.

Over the years, I’ve thought about continuing Earl. Maybe a book. Maybe something else. But for now? I want to bring Earl to the blog. And with that, I’m going to put below the original story about Earl (with some edits… I’m more refined as a writer now, you see…), so you can all enjoy Earl and appreciate him for what he is.

Earl will live on here on my blog.

Every once in a while, he’ll make an appearance. With the world transforming as it does, I don’t think I’ll have any issues putting Earl in some kooky situations.

—

First, when you go on a golf outing, there are several rules to follow. You should always make sure you have a foursome. If you don’t, the odds are the course will stick someone with you or someone will catch up to you and ask to join your group.

That’s how we met Earl.

On a nice fall day, three of us were playing a quick round of golf. Once we caught up to several slow groups, the quick round ceased. Passing wouldn’t matter as there were three or four slow groups.

As we sat on the 13th tee waiting to play, we saw him for the first time. Toting a pull card, we witnessed an interesting golfer.

Actually, he reminded me of Spaulding from Caddyshack.

After many strokes and putts, he finished hole 12 and waddled up to the 13th tee, where we were still waiting.

“Hey, ya mind if I join ya?”

In Earl’s world, there was no need for introductions. After looking him over, I shot a quick answer.

“Yes.”

The look he gave made it feel like we just filled his ass with some buckshot.

“I’m just kidding,” I said. “Join right up.”

Those words are ones that I might have ended up regretting, if not for being a writer. But as a writer, anything interesting can always make a story. Brief introductions followed and after we had said who we were, he proclaimed himself as Earl.

A local golf professional, no doubt.

“Just missed that darn birdie on 12,” Earl said as he looked back to the 12th green. “I’m, having one hell of a day.”

Reality was I, too, had just missed a birdie on 12, but in a legitimate way. Earl’s counting skills on the course likely weren’t up to snuff as we had witnessed him hack away at least seven or eight shots.

Still, the odds were we weren’t having anywhere near the day Earl was. To think we only had six holes to get to know the big man.

Before we go further, however, I must tell you a bit about Earl. He wasn’t the brightest of people and he’s not going to grace the cover of GQ anytime soon. He appeared to be in his late 30s and we weren’t sure of his womanizing ways, though he was quick to point out several lady friends that he’s had over the years.

Soon enough, it was time to play on.

As I pulled out my driver — something new to me that past summer — Earl peered at me. This is where the fun began.

“Hey, whatcha hittin’?” asked Earl.

“Big Bertha Hawkeye,” I said, probably bragging a bit as the club had a large price tag at the time.

“HEY! Ya mind if I break… err… I mean hit it?” Earl inquired.

“Yes, I mind.”

Earl was a bit shocked. After all, who was I to turn down this golf prodigy? But he accepted the answer and sulked off a little bit. So I hit. Then Jay. Then Mike.

And Mike, well, he’s a big hitter. Long off the tee, it’s impressive to watch.

Earl was equally impressed.

“Wow! You rocked that ball,” Earl proclaimed. “That swing was awesome. It was so easy. I’m gonna call you the Big Easy!”

(Side note: For the remainder of college, Jay and I continued to call Mike “The Big Easy.” Mike, too, is from a town not far from me and anytime I’ve ever run into him, I’ve always reminded him of this nickname. Good times.)

Earl’s shot wasn’t so, well, easy. He shanked it to the left, into a cow pasture than ran to the side of this hole. He was confident in his ability to find the ball, however, and he dashed ahead to look for it. The rest of us were in the middle or on the right side of the fairway, so we split.

Jay, who was a bit of a comedian, was chuckling already about Earl.

“Where the hell does this guy come from?” Jay asked as we approached his ball. “I can’t believe they would allow someone like him on a course.”

And for those of you who know anything about golf and etiquette, we soon found out that Earl was top of the line.

Jay sized up his shot, went into his backswing and was coming through when…

“I FOUND IT! LOOK GUYS! HERE’S MY BALL!” shouted Earl as topped his shot and his ball dribbled ahead maybe 35 feet.

In the end, it turned out it wasn’t even Earl’s ball, so he just dropped another and played on.

What can you do in a situation like this besides laugh?

So, we covered our faces with our towels and started humming the song “Goodbye Earl” by the Dixie Chicks as we walked up the fairway.

After finishing the hole, Earl proclaimed a six. A bogey. Not bad, considering he lost a ball, duffed several more and three-putted. It’s some tricky math in Earl’s world.

Another wait followed on the next tee. So, Jay started up, as per normal.

“So Earl, what do you do for a living?”

“A lot of things.”

“Such as…?”

“Well, I was workin’ down in Philly as a contractor, but I hated it. So I am in the area here doing odd jobs.”

“Where you living?”

“Mackeyville.”

I was lost as a tourist in the middle of Europe.

“Where the hell is that?” I asked.

“About a mile that way,” said Earl, pointing east.

Turns out it was a tiny little place not far from where all of us went to college. Who knew?

At that point, the fairway opened up and Earl stepped to the tee. He popped his drive way right of a par-3 and swore up a storm.

Oh, I forgot to mention that Earl swears more than a sailor on leave.

After finishing that hole and started the next hole, we again had a wait. The investigative journalist in Earl shined through.

“You guys go to college here?” he asked.

We all replied yes.

“I was taking college classes online through Penn State,” said Earl. “That stuff is a bunch of gobbeldy f—ing gook.”

He pondered his next thought.

“So whatcha guys do for fun? Go to the bars, find the ladies or what?”

We all just stared at him. Quite the switch in thoughts and he was excited to know what a few college kids liked doing. He had a look of excitement on his face. A Kodak moment. Kind of like a kid who uncovers a stack of Playboy’s for the first time.

“Uh yeah, we go out. Parties, bars, whatever,” The Big Easy answered.

“Man, I’d like to see some of those college women,” Earl said. “I’ve gone to a couple bars in town, but I gotta get out more. Maybe I can join up with you guys,”

I think my jaw stayed in the middle of the 15th fairway for quite a while when Jay said “sure.”

That’s how it all began. Earl got some phone numbers. The saga of Earl would continue.

We finished the round. Jay actually let Earl hit his Bertha driver later in the round, praying the whole time nothing would happen.

And Earl, well Earl continued as he had. Swearing. Hitting’. Chillin’.

The end of Earl was not to be, however. And it will continue on here at A ‘lil HooHaa. Welcome back, Earl.

Feel free to leave a comment, or e-mail P.J. at hoohaablog [at] gmail.com. Also, please “Like” HooHaa Blog on Facebook by clicking the button on the right side of the page!