Earl Burrell stood at the edge of a bare section of farmland and kicked at the dirt with what was left of his right foot. He was 36 years old and had spent the last 20 of them missing everything from his mid-arch forward. This was the result of a self-inflicted blast from a 12-gauge shotgun. The buckshot did not remove all of it, but it made enough of a mess that the doctor had to amputate much of what was left over.
Earl grew up as the only child in a farming family. He had little aptitude or affinity for working in the fields and was always coming up with excuses so he could escape the daily toil. It was therefore of little surprise that his parents suspected the partial amputation of one of his feet as just another dodge.
He might very well have blasted off a piece of his foot for an idle existence had he thought of it. Earl was not a fan of running, or even walking, so the pluses did outweigh the minuses. It was unintentional however, something Bob Ross might have called a “happy accident” if he had worked with firearms instead of paint. Intentional or not, Earl was OK with limping from one place to another as long as the destination was where he could do a whole lot of nothing.
His parents’ initial irritation morphed into acceptance when they realized that Earl was destined to be a layabout anyway so not much had really changed. In time, they even believed Earl’s claim that his injury was an accident though they took this to mean he was aiming at his other foot.
A hefty out-of-court settlement from the gun manufacturer set Mr. and Mrs. Burrell’s minds at ease. Telling Earl the money would be put in a “college fund” (he was a high-school dropout), they pocketed the cash except for a small allowance and a shed where he could masturbate in private.
In what was the closest Earl got to ambition, he vowed that his jack-off shed would one day become his love shack. He returned to his high school since this was where girls could be found. He did not start attending classes. He just staked out a spot and the hallway and waited for the moment when he would have the courage to ask one out.
That moment never came. A number of students complained and despite having never re-enrolled, Earl was expelled and told never to set foot on school grounds again.
Earl shrugged and found a new location at another school where he could continue to look at girls. He was often able to borrow the family pickup truck so mobility was rarely an issue. In time, every secondary school in a 100-mile radius (with the exception of an all-boys military academy) became part of his ogling circuit.
Years passed. The girls would eventually graduate and get on with their lives, only to have a new set take their place. The one constant was Earl Burrell.
So here he was today doing what he did best. He took a bite from his pulled-pork sandwich and stared through his binoculars at the girls’ varsity lacrosse team. They were having their afternoon practice before the big game against the league champs. If they were victorious, they stood a good chance of winning the league themselves.
Earl did want the team to win, but he was mostly just happy that they were able to play at all. Most public high schools had their budgets slashed and few teams other than football and basketball. Fortunately, this was a private school so its athletic program was kept intact to attract enrollment. Fortunately for Earl, this was a Catholic school so tradition was important. The team uniform, including the tartan skirts, had not changed in decades.
Earl just loved those skirts.
He would have preferred to sit in the bleachers like a civilized human being instead of having to watch from the far end of an open field. He feared violence from the fathers (and some mothers) for what they thought was an unhealthy interest in the girls practicing.
This bothered Earl. If the parents wanted to fear for their daughters, it certainly should not be because of him. There were some real creeps out there like the ones who liked to watch the JV team. Earl wasn’t like them. He only watched the varsity team, which was largely made up of seniors with many of them having reached their 18th birthday. Some of the mentally slower players may have been held back a year or two and would even be older than that.
Earl placed a high value on consent so being of age was crucial. It was a non-negotiable first hurdle on the sexual-satisfaction roadmap, but not the only step. She of course would have to say yes. Persistent unwanted advances might enrage the objects of his desire and there were a few of the larger girls who looked like they could inflict serious bodily harm.
There were a lot of guys who would enjoy such punishment, but not Earl. He was no masochist and he preferred females who were pliant and demure, bordering on catatonic. Her yes was a must, but only a slut uttered it loudly and with unabashed enthusiasm. Instead, Earl wanted it delivered as a simple nod while looking away and tears in her eyes that showed that she was a lady.
The absence of a no would do in a pinch as well.
Although he didn’t want a woman much older than 18 (one’s better half should be half one’s age, he reasoned), a reverse “The Price Is Right” rule was in effect. She should be close to the age of consent without being under. For this reason, Earl put a lot of effort into being able to guess a young honey’s age.
So far, he had yet to be proven wrong. He had never been proven right either, but that did not erode his confidence. He scanned the lacrosse field, deciding who was 18 and who was not.
“I want a cheeseburger, not veal parmesan,” he said, when in fact he would not get either. All he’d get was pulled pork.
It looked like the day would end like countless others. He would retreat to his shed, have a tug, and convince himself that the next day was somehow going to be different. If he were a praying man, he might look to God and ask for a miracle.
What Earl did not know was that a miracle was about to happen. Whether divine intervention was involved was up for debate, but Earl’s miracle was unfolding where God was said to live, way up in the sky.