The Handyman

Caroline Ingalls in Heat; or

Unky Chris

(a recap by Will Kaiser)

Title: The Handyman

Airdate: October 3, 1977

Written by Arthur Heinemann

Directed by William F. Claxton

SUMMARY IN A NUTSHELL: Ma nearly has an affair with a hunky vagabond until Mary goes berserk and puts a stop to it.

(FEATURING A SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY A GHOST!)

RECAP: Today in the car I heard a weather report on Minnesota Public Radio, and Paul Huttner, the chief meteorologist, said, “We saw large hail in Sleepy Eye . . . which you may remember as the town Charles always delivered stuff to on Little House on the Prairie.”

Okay, I hope you’re feeling relaxed and in the mood, because this episode is sort of as erotically charged as Little House gets. (Seriously. Even Kezia gets in on the action.)

But first, the theme.

[WILL and DAGS sing along to the bass line.]

WILL: Don’t you think they should have added Busby to the opening credits, now that they’re best friends?

DAGNY: Yes.

ROMAN: Yeah. And at the end he falls and crushes them.

We begin with a shot of Plum Creek in front of the Little House. No Drinkin’ Jack today – well, for obvious reasons.

This episode was written by the two-time Walnut-Groovy-Award-nominated author of “Doctor’s Lady,” Arthur Heinemann.

Clax is back as director.

We cut to the heretofore rarely-seen backside of the Little House, where Charles is putting on a major addition to the kitchen.

DAGNY: Why are they expanding the kitchen before adding another bedroom? Do they want Carrie to sleep in their room forever?

Laura is explaining to Carrie how a new pump will bring running water up to the house from the creek. Carrie appears fascinated, which makes sense since she’s been at the bottom of a well herself and probably wondered ever since how the water got out of there.

I wasn’t able to find anything from the 1870s, but I did find a couple ads from the 1890s for forced-water hand pumps. Prices ranged from about $700 up to $1,000 in today’s money – not a tiny investment for this family.

Ma and Mary appear. Blah blah, late for school, Carrie slurps something stupid, exit kids. (I’m trying to focus more on sharing just essential information with you, in the interest of keeping these recaps short.)

Caroline, who’s gone back to Boo Berry after her brief Franken Berry dalliance last week (possibly a symbolic choice, considering this week’s story), looks thoughtfully at the work in progress. 

Then there’s an obnoxious little exchange where Charles seems to imply women can’t understand projects of such complexity and therefore shouldn’t meddle in them.

Overall the scene is lightly rather than heavily sexist, though.

Then we cut to Kezia and Parrot Polly doing heaven knows what.

WILL: Is she smoking hookah?

No, what she’s actually doing is breaking the law. She’s steaming open a letter, which she has access to since, through what I assume was an insane and hilarious set of circumstances, she has somehow become Postmistress-General of Walnut Grove.

WILL: So . . . Grace and Mr. Ed move away, and they give the Post Office job to a . . . 

I strained for the words.

WILL: . . . Kezia?

In a nice touch, David Rose once again gives us Kezia’s old-timey English theme tune. It’s actually quite Lord of the Rings-ish, now that I think of it. She’d make a good hobbit, too.

Anyways, new PM-Gen Kezia is opening mail in the hopes of finding “juicy” gossip. I’m sure Mrs. Oleson would approve. Actually, I’d like to hear a podcast where it’s Mrs. O and Kezia just gossiping about the other Grovesters. Wouldn’t you?

And just when you thought she couldn’t get more indiscreet, Kezia then provides a synopsis of a letter OUT LOUD to the bird, with no regard for who might be listening in doorways.

Apparently there’s a Miss Simpson in town whose boyfriend writes dirty letters that Kezia relishes. 

But sadly, Kezia reports, this one isn’t red-hot wanking material, just a dressmaker’s bill from Minneapolis.

Kezia sends Parrot Polly to select another letter at random from the pile, which he does.

This one’s for Doc Baker, and while she’s bringing Polly up to speed on trending topics in Doc’s correspondence, the man himself knocks on the front door. (So I guess Kezia did lock it, at least.)

“Mrs. Whipple?” calls Doc.

WILL: The Whip? She doesn’t work in the Post Office, she’s the seamstress.

DAGNY: She probably retired from that and now works the mailroom part-time. Easier on the hands.

WILL: Hm. That would explain why Miss Simpson had to order her dress from Minneapolis.

Kezia lets Doc in. He greets her as “Miss Kezia.”

WILL: Wouldn’t he call her “Miss Horn”?

DAGNY: I bet she said “Call me Kezia” and he’s not quite comfortable with that.

WILL: You don’t think it’s just his queer side coming out? You know, how some people call Beyoncé “Miss Beyoncé” and so forth?

DAGNY: Maybe that too.

Doc and Kezia have a brief conversation.

DOC: Filling in for Mrs. Whipple again, hm?

KEZIA: Just for a few days. She’s got a bit of the was-wells.

DOC: The “was-wells”?

KEZIA: Oh yeah. She WAS well, now she’s sick!

If you’re like me, you could watch this vaudeville duo all day, but mean old Arthur Heinemann decides to move the plot again.

So, Doc’s letter, in fact, turns out to be from Mr. Hanson! He’s written that the mill was awarded a big contract he apparently traveled to bid on.

WILL: We haven’t seen Mr. Hanson at all this season.

DAGNY: No, but I think it’s cute Doc is so happy for him. They must be back together. 

DAGNY: AND it’s also telling Doc’s the only one he wrote.

Doc arrives at the Little House in his phaeton to find Charles has ripped the back wall out.

Doc tells him about Hanson’s new contract, which he says comes from “the railroad” and is to build a “new hotel.” 

You wouldn’t think Charles would be keen on talk of railroads and hotels just yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Doc doesn’t mention where this gig is, and in fact we never learn where it is. But long story short, Charles has to jump when his employer says boo, i.e. drop everything and take a two- or three-week work trip.

WILL: It’s not really fair to him. He should strike.

Speaking of strikes, Halloween has come and gone now. Walnut Groovy is not really the site for up-to-the-minute Little House news, but I’m sure you all saw Melissa Gilbert, formerly a SAG President herself, criticizing the guild for not settling the strike and for forbidding members to dress as screen characters for Halloween.

As someone who very much supports dressing up however you like, on Halloween or at any other time, I approve of this. (I was Bib Fortuna this year, but that’s another story. De wanna wanga!)

They make the rules of course, but I also would like the strike to end because we’ve got some fun things in the works with cast members that are on hold until it’s over. (Interviews are not really my thing, but the ones we’ve done so far have been a scream and I hope readers are enjoying them.)

Anyways, Charles hesitates to accede to Hanson’s demand because there’s a giant hole in the side of his house, but Caroline says not to worry about that.

Charles then catches a ride to town with Doc to do some pre-trip work at the mill.

DAGNY: Why doesn’t Charles drive himself?

WILL: I don’t know. Maybe to conserve the energy of the horses before the long trip? Like a witch using her powers. She can do anything, but she has to time it carefully, because it’ll leave her depleted and she won’t be able to do another spell for a little while.

DAGNY: That makes perfect sense. 

Now, it seems logical that we’re in early June of 1878 here. “‘My Ellen‘” was set in September of 1877, but it seems unlikely the Ingallses would leave a wall open for weeks that late in the year.

Then again, according to Farm Progress, the winter of 1877 into 1878 was “the mildest Minnesota winter of the Nineteenth Century.” 

So, in the interest of keeping the timeline compact, let’s say it’s STILL an unseasonably warm September, 1877.

(The events of “’My Ellen’” only spanned a few days, and a warm stretch of weather works with the girls going swimming/drowning last week, too.)

After school, the Ing-Gals come home and, as you’d expect, are delighted to find a big hole in the wall.

Then Carrie falls into the creek for no reason whatsoever. 

Ma tells Carrie her clothes will need to dry out, including her “new sunbonnet.”

WILL: That’s funny. 

DAGNY: What?

WILL: She said it’s a “new sunbonnet.” Haven’t you been assuming that was Laura’s old yellow bonnet?

DAGNY: No.

WILL: What? You didn’t notice?

DAGNY: No. Why would I?

WILL: You always said that one was your FAVORITE! There’s even a tag on the site for it!

DAGNY: Oh, yeah, that one was nice. But who cares? That was like, two years ago.

I suppose. Anyways, when everyone gets back to the house to shelter from Carrie’s nonsense, they only find more nonsense in the form of the stupid cow Spot, who’s broken in.

Then a sudden storm blows up!

DAGNY: What the hell is going on here?

The Ing-Gals quickly cover the hole in the wall with a blanket.

Pa comes home to help. (On foot, presumably.)

He tells Ma, “You were gonna wash the floors anyway!” and they both literally scream with laughter.

DAGNY: Oh my God.

WILL: Those two.

Then we see Charles, in the middle of the night, trying to leave without waking Caroline up. 

He’s once again carrying his severed-head-shaped travel bag.

But Ma wakes up anyway, her hair all gloriously undone again, Playboy Bunny-style.

DAGNY: This is a John Pima Caroline moment for sure.

(John Pima, you’ll recall, is my old friend from high school who was sexually fixated on Karen Grassle. Hi, John, if you’re reading this! Give me a call, we’ve still got to get together, now that you’re back in the Twin Cities.)

Pa departs.

That morning, presumably, Ma is tending to the Chonkies when she hears a jaunty whistle. (Like, a person whistling, not Hanson’s close-of-business whistle or the horror slide whistle of David Rose.)

DAGNY: And he’s whistling a hot-guy tune. You can tell it’s a hot guy whistling it and not an old man. An old man would have made a less jaunty selection.

I think that’s right. Because the source of the whistle does indeed turn out to be a hot guy, who’s standing on the floor of the addition checking out the workmanship.

WILL: They didn’t waste any time.

DAGNY: Yeah, Charles has been gone for what, four hours?

WILL: Four SECONDS!

The hot guy is played by Gil Gerard, whom some of you might recall from Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, kind of a joint Star Wars/Star Trek ripoff which ran on NBC from 1979 to 1981.

The handsome Gerard, who actually was 35 when he filmed this episode but who looks great, appeared in the the schlock sequel Airport ’77 and was a regular on daytime soaps The Doctors (which I’m not really familiar with) and (briefly) Days of Our Lives.

He also was in a fanboy thing called Star Trek Phase II from 2013 that I’ve never heard of.

But he’s best known as Buck Rogers. I was pretty little when that was on, but I did watch it. I remember liking the comic-relief robot Twiki, though looking back on clips now I don’t know what I was thinking in that regard.

Of course, I feel the same way now about Gopher on Love Boat.

Official accounts suggest Gerard was a real pain in the ass on Buck Rogers, with NBC actually threatening legal action to stop him from trying to overrule the showrunners.

Perhaps that’s why most of his later career consisted of masterpieces like Psycho Hillbilly Cabin Massacre! and Reptisaurus.

But he looks great here, and well, I’ll let you judge his performance yourself. (We’ve a few more fun facts about him to come, too.)

Anyways, this middle-aged-but-young-looking man politely apologizes for his familiarity – checking out somebody else’s homestead and all – and introduces himself as “Chris Nelson.”

Nelson says he got wind that Mr. Ingalls was going out of town and they could use help finishing the Little House add-on.

Caroline asks where he got his information, and he says he’s been doing work for the Olesons, who will vouch for his capabilities as a handyman.

You’ll notice right away Nelson’s written to resemble Charles. He’s pleasant, straightforward, non-threatening . . . and, as previously indicated, HOT.

Nelson goes on and on about how Caroline could go to town and get his references from the Mercantile right now.

She agrees, and as she goes off he stares at her, pretty blatantly. 

Actually, if you look closely, you’ll see he’s literally licking his lips.

But you know nothing really bad is going to happen because there’s no sudden horror chord. (Or slide whistle.)

Meanwhile at the Mercantile, Mrs. Foster is buying jelly beans! I love that, for some reason.

And Nels is giving Chris Nelson a decent endorsement.

Mrs. Oleson interrupts him to complain about how useless Nels is as a handyman himself.

WILL: Oh no! It’s The Will and Dagny Story.

(To be clear, Dags never complains about my failures as a handyman. But the sad fact is that I’m just as useless as Nels. At least.)

The scene degenerates into a genuinely funny argument between the two, with both MacG and Bull shining in it.

Caroline slinks away at some point, and we cut to Chris Nelson, um, erecting a wall (naughty Clax), whilst the flute player in the orchestra (another phallic choice?) tootles a solo.

WILL: Hey, listen to that! It’s the Hot-Guy Tune! 

It is indeed the Hot-Guy Tune.

WILL: Now, how did they do that? Did David Rose write the music first, and then give it to Gil Gerard so he could learn to whistle it? Or did Gil Gerard just make up the tune on the spot, and David quick copied it down and used it in the score?

DAGNY: Oh my God, it wasn’t really Gil Gerard whistling!

Ha! I suppose not. I never thought of that.

DAGNY: In fact, it was probably David himself doing the whistle.

Oh my God, of course it was.

Anyways, the tune itself sounds more like “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head” than anything authentic to the period.

Caroline and the kids arrive home, Ma herself piloting the Chonkywagon on this occasion. (I’m not sure it’s really Grassle, though.)

Ma brings the girls over to meet Mr. Nelson.

DAGNY: Are they gonna marry Mary off to him now?

WILL: She is a free agent.

Ma wants to put together a formal contract for Nelson’s work on the house, but he says he’s a simple carefree vagabond and she can just pay him as she sees fit when he’s done. (This is the traditional simple carefree vagabond way, apparently.)

WILL: Do you think she’ll get a discount if she sleeps with him?

DAGNY: I think she might pay him extra.

Ma says he can take the soddy as his lodgings.

WILL: Where would you rather sleep, the hayloft or the soddy? They seem to alternate their guests between them.

DAGNY: I don’t know. The hayloft seems drier.

WILL: Well, when I was a kid I had to go to a French and Indian War reenactment in Green Bay, and I “got” to sleep in hay overnight. It’s horrible. Pokes, itches, you get allergies. And it wasn’t particularly dry, though it was in a tent, and raining. 

It was the worst night of sleep in my life. 

Ma and Nelson smile at each other a little longer than they probably should; then she takes Mary and Laura inside.

Carrie stays outside to gape at the handsome stranger a while longer.

He winks at her, and she tries to wink back, but can’t do it. (I’m sure you’re shocked, reader.)

That night Nelson joins them at dinner, where he entertains Carrie with a little clown toy he apparently brings around with him all the time.

DAGNY: Groomer!!!

He even does a sort of Popeye voice, just like Charles did in “Haunted House.”

ROMAN: Does he just play Charles from now on?

Ominously, Caroline laughs her fucking head off at his charm, and offers him more pie and coffee.

WILL: Uh-oh.

“I hope your husband realizes what a lucky man he is,” Nelson says.

WILL: Double uh-oh.

We all gasped at what happened then.

Because Nelson suddenly grabs for Charles’s fiddle and starts playing it.

ROMAN: Oh my God. . . .

DAGNY: He’s gonna play Charles’s FIDDLE? No! That’s too far. What’s next, he bends Ma over the stove?

Nelson plays a tune that is similar, but not identical, to the duet Pa played with the doomed Granville Whipple in “Soldier’s Return.”

It’s also reminiscient of “Bonaparte’s Retreat,” the fiddle tune immortalized by Aaron Copland in his famous “Hoedown” from Rodeo.

The Ing-Gals are impressed with him, but we weren’t.

WILL: He’s no Michael Landon on the fake fiddle.

DAGNY: No he is not.

Laura and Mary start dancing gaily. (Last week Laura lost some of her innocence, and this week it’s Mary’s turn.)

DAGNY: They’re having a lot of fun with Pa gone. They didn’t realize he brought them down so much.

Nelson’s violin technique, unlike Charles’s, involves bucking his hips constantly as he plays, which is . . . well, it’s just a bit much for a 7+ TV show.

Nelson then says he’s going to go out and do a little more work, because he prefers that to lying in bed alone. (A paraphrase; but not much of one.)

“Goodnight, Uncle Chris!” cries Laura.

DAGNY: My God, “Uncle Chris”? The first DAY they met him? I don’t believe that.

Then, in a shot so suggestive you’d think Landon himself directed it, Horndog Chris watches Caroline’s silhouette through the sheet they’ve hung over the hole in the wall.

WILL: Do you think this inspired the sponge-bath scene on Seinfeld?

ROMAN: Yeah. It must be Larry David’s favorite Little House.

Laura and Carrie once again scream “Goodnight, Uncle Chris!” as they go to bed.

DAGNY: This is too weird, with “Uncle Chris” and the shadow puppets. Does this one turn out to be a dream?

WILL: Yes. At the end, we learn a loose board knocked Caroline out, and she was in a coma the whole episode. Pa never left.

Caroline goes outside and tells Hunkle Chris quit it because Quiet Time.

She compliments his workmanship, though, and he says, “Some I satisfy, some I don’t.” This script has a lot of squicky double entendres in it. I kind of can’t believe they got away with it.

Then Nelson says he can tell the cut of Charles’s jib by Caroline’s hotness alone. (Paraphrase.)

We all agreed: He doesn’t know the half of Charles’s jib.

Nelson goes on to talk about his nomadic lifestyle, saying, “I haven’t found a place I’d like to nail my boots to the floor in.”

We all gasped at “nail my boots.”

ROMAN: Who WROTE this one?

WILL: It was the same guy who wrote “Doctor’s Lady.”

ROMAN: That makes sense.

Caroline and Nelson say goodnight, and once again he stares at her after she leaves.

DAGNY: I do NOT like where this is going.

The next morning on the soddy porch, Laura gives “Uncle Chris” a recap of the events of “Castoffs.” (Not as comprehensive as mine, though. You have to get up pretty early, Laura Ingalls!)

The soddy, which was looking run-down enough already in “The Election,” now has a broken window.

Laura and her sisters then pepper “Uncle Chris” with idiotic questions.

Discussing his social life, “Uncle Chris” says he has some friends, but he’s “not as you might say close” with them.

DAGNY [as CHRIS]: “Not as you might say ‘penis-in-vagina close.’ But with your ma, now . . .”

Then he adds the best friend he ever had was a crow. 

WILL: There are a lot of crows on this show, aren’t there? Was Morticia Addams the script editor?

Sometimes the crows are people’s best friends, and often they talk. Sometimes they’re circling as Alan Fudge lies dying. 

Sometimes they have literary names and accompany fake-Irish Secret-of-Śamin-peddling “circus men.”

Sometimes they serve as a personal valet. 

Well – perhaps because we’ve been so well-acclimated to crows – “Uncle Chris’s” story about having one for a friend is incredibly boring.

ROMAN: Do you think Kezia’s crow knows Uncle Chris’s crow and will recognize him?

At breakfast the next day, the Ing-Gals are a little dressed up.

DAGNY: Why are they in their Sunday best?

We find out why they’re dressed up when Nelson says he’s about to start work, and Caroline says Not on a Sunday you aren’t, fuckhead. (Paraphrase.)

WILL: She is a real stickler about that.

DAGNY: She is.

Caroline says, “Are you a churchgoing man?” and Nelson smirks and says, “Well, looks like I am today.”

WILL: It’s “Walking in Memphis”! [sings] “She said, ‘Tell me are you a Christian, child?’ and I said ‘Ma’am, I am tonight!’”

Nelson goes back to the soddy to change for church. (This wandering vagabond has been carrying church clothes on his travels?)

Anyways, everybody gathers at Groveland Congregational.

This service is going to be well attended. 

We see Nellie and Willie frisking about.

Apart from the Olesons, those who show up today include Kezia, the Midsommar Kid, an Ambiguously Ethnic Kid, and Not-Linda Hunt.

Not-Richard Libertini is also there (fresh from his heroics last week!).

As is Mr. Nelson the Gray-Haired Dude. (No relation to “Uncle” Chris Nelson, presumably.)

And there are a lot of other people you can’t really get a good look at.

Mrs. Oleson stands by the steps making suggestive comments about Caroline bringing the handyman with her.

WILL: I’m surprised she doesn’t call a series of community meetings to decide if he can attend a service.

MRS. OLESON: Oh, my, just like one of the family, isn’t he?

KEZIA [thirstily]: Well, I wouldn’t mind ’avin’ ’im in MY family.

Ha! This has to be my favorite Kezia story.

MRS. OLESON: If you ask me, it isn’t proper to have a young man like that living in the house. I know I wouldn’t feel safe.

KEZIA: Well, I didn’t ask you, but if it will ease your mind any, Mrs. O, I can guarantee you – YOU’d be safe.

I don’t think that I like the implications of that last remark, suggesting as it does that Caroline is worth sexually harassing, but Harriet ain’t. 

But you have to admit the writing is funnier than usual here, and Baddeley’s great. 

Oh, also: Mary overhears this conversation.

Now, however, we come to a very rare thing indeed: a Little House on the Prairie Urban Legend.

Someone on the IMDb pointed out there’s a “disappearing boy” in this scene, so we specifically cued it up to analyze it.

So, first Kezia says, “YOU’D be safe!”, rolls her eyes, and toddles off.

Nels watches Harriet’s face closely for her reaction; then he shrugs, and off he goes too.

As Nels exits the frame, an Ambiguously Ethnic Kid appears behind Mrs. Oleson, walking.

For a moment, he becomes eclipsed in the shot by Mrs. Oleson’s, um, person.

. . . Only then, when Mrs. O suddenly lunges out of the frame herself, we see he has completely disappeared!

WILL: Now that’s a great trick. I don’t know how they did that.

ROMAN: I don’t know IF they did that.

DAGNY: Must have been a real ghost.

ROMAN: You know what, he went down Kezia’s trapdoor.

That’s it!

Anyways, that night, Caroline of the Flowing Bed-Head Hair answers a knock at the door. 

Surprise, surprise! It’s Hunkle Chris.

He says he wanted to come have a heart-to-heart about “what happened with Mrs. Oleson this morning.” 

I don’t understand, what did happen with Mrs. Oleson? There was no confrontation. Caroline and Nelson were inside the church by the time Mrs. Oleson and Kezia started talking about them. Yes, Mary overheard them, but I doubt she would have shared what they said with Ma. 

Well, however they found out, Caroline says don’t worry about Mrs. Oleson, she’s a bitch, but she’s all right.

Then they have this awful smiling, flirting conversation where they make goo-goo eyes at each other but don’t really say anything of substance. 

Caroline’s willing participation in the flirting is remarkable, considering he’s only been working there one day!

DAGNY: Wow.

WILL: Ma’s in heat!

DAGNY: Seriously, this would be VERY inappropriate. It’s the Nineteenth Century.

“Chris’s” compliments bubble out of him like oil. He goes on about her face, hair – you name it. 

Speaking of hair, they must have given Karen Grassle a new “long-hair” wig this season, because it looks much longer than we’ve seen before.

Then, in tandem, Rose and Voigtlander sweep in, revealing in sound and vision that Mary has been listening to this conversation, too.

The next day, the school vomits out the kids for recess.

Not-Linda Hunt and the Smallest Nondescript Helen of Them All are amongst them.

The Ing-Gals stake out a primo spot for lunch, Laura gibbering at some length about jelly sandwiches, cookies, and the like.

Tartan Nellie and Willie come over, Nellie doing her trademark arms-behind-back walk.

Pompously, she says, “When the cat’s away, the mice do play!” (A saying from Medieval Europe.)

She asks Mary if she knows what the proverb means, and Mary, staring daggers, says no. 

Nellie says, “I bet your mother knows.” 

She adds, “Some folks call it ‘monkey business.’” 

(Explanations of this idiom’s genesis are all over the place, with some saying it came from a Bengali phrase used in colonial India and some disputing that. Others say it originated as a slur against slaves on American plantations, or was simply slang reflecting the popularity of zoos in the Nineteenth Century. Whatever the origin, it was around by this point.)

Nellie keeps saying “monkey business,” repeating it rather unnecessarily if you ask me, until Mary slowly rises and punches her in the face.

DAGNY: Whoa, Nellie!

WILL: Whoa, MARY!

Squawking for “Mother,” Nellie flaps off.

Willie discreetly withdraws as well.

[UPDATE: Reader Vinícius reminded me there’s a story behind this fight scene. I’ll let Alison Arngrim herself tell it.]

Someone I never did get to take a swing at (and would have liked to) was Melissa Sue Anderson. We technically had a match scheduled, but it was canceled at the last minute. It was one of the few times Mary loses it. Nellie suggests that Ma is having an affair with the handyman. In the script, Mary was supposed to actually hit me with her metal lunch pail, which would have hurt. Thinking ahead, the prop guys brought in a rubber one for this occasion.

Missy and I were in makeup getting ready for the scene, and we started “trash talking,” like a couple of TV wrestlers threatening their opponents. Melissa Sue turned to me and said, “I’m really going to hit you, you know.” She wasn’t smiling, and it appeared she might actually be threatening me. So I responded in kind: “That’s okay, because when I pull your hair, I’m going to rip it out by the roots. And then I looked right at her and grinned.

When we got all the way down the hill, I got the impression that perhaps someone had called down on the walkie-talkie and warned them of our little “chat.” The director had dispensed with the entire lunch pail idea. Missy now was just to give me a simple slap, and I would take off. There would be no fight scene. Missy looked pissy that she missed the opportunity. – From Confessions of a Prairie Bitch

Laura demands that Mary explain herself, adding that she won’t tell Ma – “cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

(The origin of this one is mysterious, too. Looks like “cross my heart” was around by this point, with “hope to die” also appearing in print by the 1890s. “Stick a needle in my eye” appears to have been added later. While many people very authoritatively state the “needle” bit comes from a poem “from 1908,” nobody seems to know who wrote it, where it was published, or anything like that.)

(The poem itself is a piece of non-scanning doggerel, often shared without capitalization or punctuation. I’m no expert, but I’ll stick a needle in my own eye if it’s the origin of anything.)

Cross my heart

and hope to die

stick a needle in my eye

wait a moment,

i spoke a lie

i never really

wanted to die.

but if i may

and if i might

my heart is open

for tonight

though my lips are sealed

and a promise is true

i won’t break my word

my word to you.

Cross my heart

hope to die

stick a needle in my eye.

a secret’s a secret

my word is forever

i will tell no one

about your cruel endeavor.

you claim no pain

but i see right through

your words in

everything you do.

teary eyes

broken heart

life has torn

you apart

Cross my heart

hope to die

stick a needle in my eye

i loved you then

i love you now

i’ll still love you

though i’ll break my vow.

i can’t hold this secret

any longer

it’s hurting you

not making you stronger.

you’re my friend

so i’ll risk your respect

by hurting you

i can protect

i’ll save yourself

since you will not

you might hate me

but i’ll give it a shot.

i’m willing to risk

our bond that we own

so long as you’re safe

you won’t be alone.

Cross my heart

hope to die

stick a needle in my eye

break my promise

tell a lie

save my friend

though, maybe it’s ‘bye.’

Mary tells Laura Mrs. Oleson has been rumor-mongering about Ma and Mr. Nelson.

WILL: Give her Mrs. Oleson impression a grade.

ROMAN: C-plus.

DAGNY: F-minus. All she did was talk faster than usual.

I’d actually give her a B, myself. MSA throws in some head-twitching that is decidedly MacG-ish.

Baffled, Laura bares the gopher fangs and yells, “What’s THAT supposed to mean!”

DAGNY: Laura’s not this naive. 

WILL: No. It’s weird they have her being a nonsense-spewing child again after she was so grown-up last week.

Mary just shuts her down, leaving her to take a huge bite of a Red Delicious apple. (Gag, barf. However, it does support a fall setting for this story).

(And no, this isn’t the apple-boobs one.)

Back at the Little House, Nelson falls off a ladder.

Caroline rushes out to find he’s torn his shirt and cut himself. 

She cries, “Now you come inside and take your shirt off!”

WILL/DAGNY/ROMAN: OH MY GOD!

Quite grumpily, he argues with her until she shouts, “Do as I say, Chris!”

ROMAN: Watch out, she’ll amputate your arm!!!

Eventually he acquiesces, and the next thing you know Ma is tending to him inside.

ROMAN: She’s tearing bandages with her TEETH? 

DAGNY: She’s very worked up.

To what’s surely the disappointment of many audience members, Gil Gerard isn’t actually shirtless in this scene.

Rather, he’s wearing Jonathan-Garvey-style long underwear. (Surely that would also be torn and bloody?)

Nelson’s mood quickly changes from grumpy to flirty.

He starts going on about how gorgeous Caroline looked the previous night when she was half-naked (by this show’s standards, anyways).

He adds that he’s partial to loose women. (Again, just barely a paraphrase.)

ROMAN: Oh my God!

DAGNY: It’s beyond outrageous for him to be saying these things to her.

WILL: It is. She should pour boiling coffee in his crotch and say, “This should cool you off.”

DAGNY: Yeah, or stab him in the arm with that scissors.

ROMAN: Well. That seems extreme. 

Caroline says she’ll mend his torn shirt herself.

ROMAN: She has no choice, now that Mrs. Whipple’s at the Post Office.

Later, the Ing-Gals come home from school. Mary stares at Nelson with horror, because . . .

WILL: Is he wearing Pa’s CHRISTMAS SHIRT? Oh my God!

Having the same reaction, Mary immediately storms into the Little House to scream at Ma about giving him the shirt she made for her father.

WILL [as CAROLINE]: “Actually, that’s the one I made him for Christmas. I never told you, but I made him an identical one . . . well, it’s a long story. . . .”

Ma rears up and tells Mary to watch her tone, explaining the torn shirt and injury.

Mary tells her she got into a fight with Nellie. When Ma tries to learn the substance of this brawl, Laura comes in and tries taking the blame herself.

DAGNY: I always liked that the girls got into fights. I admired that.

WILL: Yes. I wish I had gotten into more fights when I was a kid. I think I might have been better off in life. I certainly would have handled that State Fair incident differently.

Ma doesn’t buy the girls’ explanation, exactly; but since her overall mood is still rather stimulated, she drops it. 

Ma then asks where Carrie is. “Outside with Uncle Chris,” says Laura.

ROMAN: Is this the one where Carrie drowns in the creek?

WILL: Yeah. That was foreshadowing before.

Mary is obviously relieved that her fight didn’t cause bigger problems. But when she climbs up to the loft she again stares down at Ma, who’s doing Nelson’s laundry, with a dull obsession.

Simultaneously, David gives us the hot-guy tune again in the score.

WILL: Here’s why I like this one. Mary’s obsessed with what’s happening . . . but she actually has a very good reason at the moment to get worked up about infidelity.

DAGNY: Oh yeah, it makes total sense.

Then Mary goes to the window to stare with mad hatred at Nelson as he does his work.

WILL: Did she pull a chair up to the window, or is there a sill big enough to sit on?

DAGNY: I don’t know. It does look kind of funny, but I can’t put my finger on why.

Meanwhile, we see a signpost that says “Walnut Grove 9 miles,” and some sort of stripped down mini-wagon drives past it.

DAGNY: Is that Charles’s wagon? It looks so small.

WILL: I don’t know.

It appears to be Charles and the Chonkies . . . but that doesn’t make sense, since we also saw Ma driving the Chonkies in the wagon earlier. And again, the wagon isn’t right. . . . It’s a mystery.

ROMAN: Seriously, who was that?

After a commercial break, we’re back at the Little House, and Laura screams “Pa’s home!” So I guess it was Charles.

But rather than driving in with the Chonkies and the mini-wagon, he rides in on a dark horse.

Nelson hears Laura cry out, and slinks away.

Pa’s horse has a familiar look.

WILL [as CHARLES]: “Look, girls, Bunny’s alive!”

Pa says he wants to see how the handyman is doing on the addition.

“His name is Uncle Chris and he made me a dancing man!” slurps Carrie.

Pa, who I’m sure couldn’t understand a word of that, says, “Is that right?” (This is still an acceptable response in Minnesota today when you don’t understand what somebody’s just said to you. “Jeez!” also works well.)

Mary asks how long Pa is home for, and he says, “Just hello and goodbye.”

ROMAN [as CHARLES]: “You say yes, I say no.”

Though Nelson is nowhere to be found, Charles is very impressed with the progress.

Ma says she’ll send him some rhubarb pie back with him. (Rhubarb tends to grow fine through September.)

Pa, who’s very cheerful and not at all suspicious throughout this scene, notes something’s the matter with Mary.

ROMAN [as MARY]: “I miss John!”

Actually, Mary asks him not to go back to . . . wherever he’s been working.  (The location is never specified, which is weird for this show.)

Pa hugs her, but says work is what it is. (Which it is, sometimes.)

With that, he says goodbye. Notably, he calls Laura “lovey,” a nickname for her he’s not used since “Four Eyes” in Season Two, and tells her to “keep smilin’.”

WILL [as ELTON JOHN, singing]: “Keep smilin’! Keep shinin’!”

(Like “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head,” that’s a Burt Bacharach tune, by the way.)

When he and Caroline are left alone, Charles laughs that Mrs. Oleson warned him about the good-looking handyman who’s been looking after Ma in his absence. 

But he says he’s not worried in the least (and he means it, bless him).

Awkwardly, Caroline tells Charles he’s “always missed” when he’s gone.

WILL [as CHARLES]: “And you’re always MRS., ha ha!”

DAGNY: Oh my God.

And off Charles goes, on Bunny Four. Ma squirms a bit guiltily as he leaves.

WILL: Look at that white butterfly. Do you think they released it, or is it just a coincidence?

DAGNY: It’s just a coincidence.

WILL: It could be a symbol of Caroline’s purity. But then I suppose they’d have to have a Gil Gerard frog trying to eat it, or something.

The minute Charles leaves, Caroline hears a hammer. Chris has returned.

She goes around and says she was mystified by his disappearance whilst Charles was home.

WILL [as CHRIS, angrily]: “I had diarrhea, okay?”

Fairly rudely, Nelson says, “I’ve been around families enough to know when an outsider isn’t wanted.”

WILL: Did Mary say something?

DAGNY: No, he just realizes he’s horny for Ma and wants to nip that in the bud.

WILL: Well, if that’s the case he can’t blame Charles for anything.

DAGNY: No. He shouldn’t be mean to Ma on account of it either.

“You’re not an outsider!” screams Ma. This is not really accurate, and again, Caroline’s emotional investment in this guy is strange.

Grassle wrote in her memoir that Ma’s onscreen enthusiasm for Nelson reflected an offscreen fling she had with Gil Gerard. Unfortunately, not much came of that (except exposure to an STD).

Anyways, then we see Grandpa Carl the Flunky waiting to pick up some kids in his yellow-wheeled buckboard after school.

Carl the F’s passengers this time appear to be an AEK and Not-Carl Sanderson, which is peculiar, because in the past we’ve surmised Not-Joni Mitchell, Pigtail Helen and Not-Linda Hunt are his granddaughters.

And Not-Linda Hunt is in fact there; she and the Smallest Nondescript Helen of Them All play on the spinning teeter-totter thing with Laura and Carrie.

The Not-ZZ Top Guy drives by in the background.

Mary comes out and tells Laura they have to get home fast, but Laura says no they don’t.

Back at the Little House, things are awkward between Ma and Unky Chris.

ROMAN: I don’t understand why he’s agonizing about this. All he has to do is kill Charles, right?

Caroline goes down to the creek, and Nelson follows her.

DAGNY [as CHRIS]: “Wanna have a bath together?”

But seriously, he wants to apologize. He says since he came to town, he’s been dreaming the Ingallses were his real family.

ROMAN: He’s quite disturbed.

Caroline says that’s understandable and just indicates he’s ready to start a family of his own. 

ROMAN [as CHRIS]: “You’re right. That’s why I’d like to ask for Carrie’s hand in marriage.”

Actually, Chris replies, “Who’d want to settle down with me?”

DAGNY [as CHRIS]: “Look at me, I’m a monster!” Come on, he’s by far the best-looking man they’ve had on the show, other than Michael Landon.

Chris tries to help her stand up from the creek, but she trips and falls into his arms – right as Mary comes around the corner.

DAGNY: OH, NO.

Mary immediately hides and stares.

WILL: What’s her plan, do you think?

DAGNY: She’s gonna electrify him with her ice-blue eyes!

ROMAN: Her eyes really are something.

WILL: Yeah. They kind of look like my Bib Fortuna eyes.

That night, Mary sneaks out of the house after bedtime to go out to the soddy. (Bandit apparently being no better a watchdog than Jack was.)

Unky Chris is awake, reading, and is surprised to find Mary at his door.

ROMAN: He should offer her a potato as a peace offering.

He invites her in (also inappropriate), saying it must be important if she’s coming to him so late.

“It is,” Mary says.

DAGNY [as MARY]: “Make love to me.”

WILL: Yeah, it’s just like that Love Boat where she tries to seduce Doc.

Looking at him quite coolly, Mary says, “I want you to go.”

Nelson says he doesn’t understand, but Mary tells him he can cut the crap and just confess that he loves Ma.

Looking down, Nelson says, “Mary, your mother’s a fine woman . . .”

“You don’t have to tell me about my mother,” Mary says with a mix of contempt and genuine amusement. (MAS is fantastic in this one, by the way.)

Unable in the end to deny it, or even to look Mary in the eye anymore, Unky says, “I’ll be gone by morning.” 

Satisfied, and I think a little surprised at her own power here, Mary exits.

WILL [as MARY]: “And there better not be a single potato missing!”

DAGNY: Wow. That was an intense scene.

WILL: This is an important transitional story for Mary, I think. 

DAGNY: Yes. It’s the first time she’s acting like a real adult. The whole thing is very adult, in fact. They don’t usually deal with topics like this.

WILL: Well, there was that other one you like. Where Ma thinks Pa is sleeping with Mariette Hartley.

DAGNY: Yeah, but that was all a hilarious misunderstanding. There’s something deeper than that going on here.

The next morning finds Mary muckin’ the auld byre.

WILL: That’s kind of a nice dress to be muckin’ the auld byre in.

Ma is in the yard when Laura comes running to say Unky Chris and his belongings are gone from the soddy!

Ma is mystified, given he hasn’t even been paid yet. Then she notices Mary is pointedly not mystified.

She goes into the barn to discuss the matter, and Mary coldly says, “Well, no matter, we don’t need him around here anyway.”

Ma literally grabs her by the arm and demands to know what happened.

ROMAN: Pitchfork her, Mary!

Then things explode quite suddenly, with Mary screaming she saw the two of them in a lover’s embrace.

Ma is shocked at the misunderstanding, even if she really shouldn’t be by this point.

But Mary screams that Unky Chris himself confirmed that he loves her.

Literally choking with rage – you know the way she does – Mary says she’s glad he’s gone and they’ll never have to see him again.

Visibly grappling with multiple emotions (Grassle is also terrific in this one), Ma screams back that Chris was simply saving her from a Carrie-style tumble into Plum Creek.

“I love your father,” she adds with quiet fury, “more than anything in this world. And I always will.”

Playing the victim now, she tries to rush out, but Mary grabs her and hugs her.

They both scream with sobs and apologize.

WILL: This is searing.

DAGNY: I think it might be the best Little House scene ever. It’s taking my breath away.

Then Mary says “I was wrong” and says she shouldn’t have confronted Chris.

WILL: Not really, Mary. It was understandable.

DAGNY: Especially after what she’s just been through.

DAGNY: Also, she wasn’t wrong. He really does love her.

ROMAN: Yeah, Ma just ignored that part.

WILL: Yeah. In fact, Mary never even mentioned the embrace when she confronted Unky. She didn’t need to, because her accusation was right.

Ma says they’ll just have to chase him down and bring him back.

DAGNY: I don’t know that that’s necessary.

WILL: Well, it’s just like when Kezia left.

Thankfully, Chris doesn’t think it’s a good idea either. He politely thanks them, declines any payment, and says goodbye.

WILL [as CHRIS]: “Next time you make popcorn, think of me.”

DAGNY: Oh, she will. He’s in her box now.

And with that, Ma turns the wagon around to head home.

ROMAN: Mary should grab the reins and run him down.

Then, in an epilogue, Pa returns home. He says he’s going to wash up in the creek, but first he compliments Caroline’s hair.

Ma screams, “OH CHAAAAAAAAAAAARLES!!!!!!”

DAGNY: Oh my God. This show.

Bum-Bum-Ba-Dum!

STYLE WATCH: Mrs. Oleson wears her “ladies’ cut” version of Pinky.

And Charles appears to go commando once more.

THE VERDICT: Grassle is great as Ma grapples with unexpected desires. But really, this is mainly a kick-ass Mary story, with Melissa Sue Anderson delivering yet again.

UP NEXT: The Wolves