The Werewolf of Walnut Grove

Eliza Jane Triumphant; or

What Can You Write About the Sky?

(a recap by Will Kaiser)

Title: The Werewolf of Walnut Grove

Airdate: January 7, 1980

Written by John T. Dugan

Directed by William F. Claxton

SUMMARY IN A NUTSHELL: In this very odd mélange of previous story elements, Laura and Albert pull a supernatural prank on an odious bully when neither Eliza Jane nor Chuck can bring him to heel.

Also, big shakeup on the school board.

RECAP: Whoa-ho-ho, the 1980s! I tend to think of Little House as the quintessential seventies show, but of course over a third of its episodes aired in the decade of the Purple Pieman.

It’s also the Little House era that I have a chance of actually remembering first-run (I turned five in 1980). My vivid-est memories of the show come from watching it in syndication in high school and college, by which time it had been off NBC for years. 

Everyone who was a child in the 1980s in America, or mostly everyone, remembers the period like an exhilarating dream, with a rainbow of extraordinary pop-culture junk to entertain us.

It was an extremely self-conscious and self-aware period for style. 

Wisely, Michael Landon didn’t make many stylistic updates to the show to reflect the changing times. (The closest he came is probably the “New Beginning” intro, but that would have been awful no matter when it was made, and there isn’t anything especially “eighties” about it.)

Well, in 1980, the show was still driving full steam ahead. One can quibble about individual stories, but I reject some readers’ assertion that Little House was in decline by Season Six. We have a while yet to wait for that!

But enough jibber-jabber. We open with Charles coming in hot on the Chonkywagon.

He arrives at a place I thought we might never see again: the Old Lar[r]abee Farm.

Arguably the Worst Grovester of All Time (sorry, Nancy), Jud Lar[r]abee is gone for good from the show, not least because Don “Red” Barry, the troubled actor who played him, died by suicide in 1980.

When last we saw Jud, he was raging defiantly against everyone who’d done him a good turn during his trial for assault and barn-burnin’ – most of all at Joe Kagan, the source and object of his hottest hatreds. 

Lar[r]abee responded to social change with a self-destructive, backwards rage, cursing the more liberal Grovesters and digging in to his prejudices rather than admit the world was bigger than he thought. (Like many today.)

Disgusted and shamed by her husband, Jud’s wife Adele left him, taking with her his mini-me kids, Lem and Zeke (great names), and pledging to see to their moral betterment in the future.

We never saw any of them again.  Fan lore, apparently, has it that Jud died of a massive coronary shortly after the trial in an untelevised adventure.

Lar[r]abee was a screaming hothead and heavy drinker who didn’t look like he had the best diet, so that’s quite possible.

Alternatively, he might have wound up in Professor Von Peck’s sanitarium, together with previous crazy Grovesters like Eloise Taylor, Eric Boulton, Seth Berwick, Mr. Kennedy, possibly Kezia, and others.

Well, back to the present day. There’s some construction going on, and a heavy, Dan Blockerish man, middle-aged and clearly the figurative Big Cheese, is directing operations. 

He argues a bit with his architect, “Jenkins,” who protests that the silo they’re building is too large.

The big guy, whom Jenkins addresses as “Mr. Slater” and who is apparently the J. Bruce Ismay of this story, says do it anyway and damn the risks.

Slater mentions he sold a huge farm in Wisconsin before coming here and wants this one to be even huger. (You’ll recall Jud Lar[r]abee was a large-scale farmer of both wheat and sheep.)

A rather expensively-dressed woman comes out from the house, followed by a man of about twenty whom she addresses as “Bartholomew.” 

He has a lion-like mane of hair and is dressed in a suit.

He doesn’t like his outfit, though, saying, “Why do I have to wear these sissy clothes anyway?” (Homophobic talk of any kind is rare on this show.)

The woman says it’s the young man’s first day at school (how old is he?).

Bartholomew says he’d much rather work on the farm than go to school, but Mr. Slater says he must do as his mother wants.

Mrs. Slater, who has something Rue McClanahanic about her looks, also tells him to quit his bitching.

(She’s Patricia Donahue, who was a semi-regular on General Hospital and appeared on The Twilight Zone, Bonanza, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Perry Mason, and Voyagers!)

Slater’s sympathies are with Bartholomew, but he stands in solidarity with his wife.

DAGNY: The voice dubbing is pretty bad. I bet these actors weren’t as good at doing voiceovers as the regulars.

Slater turns back to his work, telling Jenkins he wants more “tongue and groove.” Sounds like fun, I know, but actually it’s a way of fitting boards together.

In the buggy, Mrs. Slater tells Bartholomew he better not get kicked out of this school like he did the last one.

WILL: Do they have an Ed Gein kind of relationship?

Mrs. S activates the horse, apparently named “Dukes,” and off they buzz.

(Or maybe it’s “Doogs”? Didn’t Doogie Howser get called that sometimes? Could that in fact have been a nickname for John T. Dugan, who included it in this script as a joke? It might be his calling card as a writer! I’ll have to go back and rewatch his episodes again to see if any other “Doogses” get mentioned.)

(I’ll report any findings. Also, Clax is back as director.)

Next we see Eliza Jane enrolling Bartholomew in school. “I hope you do better here than at your last school, Bartholomew,” she says pointedly.

WILL: What? Why would she say that in front of the whole class? Not cool, Eliza Jane.

Annoyed, young Bartholomew says he likes to be called “Bart.”

DAGNY: What IS this hairdo? It’s crazy even for this show.

It is, but before we get any further into this one I’d like to touch on a strange Little House controversy – one even, perhaps, to rival David Prowse’s supposed cameo in “The Spring Dance.”

The actor playing Bart is credited as “Tod Thompson.” The IMDb suggests this actually is a misspelling of his true name, Todd Thompson.

The IMDb also notes he was on Little House and Mama’s Family in 1980s, then acted in nothing for fourteen years, only to have a triumphant return to the screen in Contact, The Waterboy, The Green Mile, Dawson’s Creek, and a number of other more recent things than that.

Here’s the problem, however, as fans have remarked: the IMDb gives this Todd Thompson’s date of birth as January 2, 1971. 

If that’s true, it means Thompson would have been eight years old when he filmed “The Werewolf of Walnut Grove.”

Furthermore, the photos of Thompson do look a little like our Bart . . . but they’re not quite right, are they?

Fortunately, today we have image-comparison technologies to precisely assess things like eye color, bone structure, moles and birthmarks, etc., and determine whether they’re a match. The method is often used to provide forensic evidence in cases where the perpetrator’s identity is in doubt, as you might imagine.

When I ran a photo of “Todd Thompson” through my system (I’m simplifying some complicated processes for the sake of space and comprehensibility), here’s what I got:

I tried a number of other “Todd Thompson” photos from the IMDb and elsewhere. (I actually know a Todd Thompson myself. An astrophysicist! I went to college with him at old Milwaukee-Downer U. Very smart and nice guy.)

Anyways, all had the same result.

Clearly the case warranted further inquiry. So next, I watched the Mama’s Family episode in which this Thompson supposedly appeared. 

Regular readers know the lengths to which I’ll go to solve Little House mysteries. And seeing as I’m something of a Vicki Lawrence fan to begin with, this time I approached my task with relish.

Well, as you might have guessed, the actor who appeared on the show (playing a Family Feud contestant – the great Dawson himself also guest-starred!) resembled our Bart Slater far more closely than had the Todd Thompson at the IMDb. 

After processing, the digital forensic program confirmed my visual impression.

Furthermore, I watched through the end credits and learned that, contrary to the IMDb’s data, the actor who guested on Mama’s Family was also credited as Tod Thompson with one D, not Todd Thompson with two. 

Also, Todd with two Ds was only twelve when the Mama’s F episode aired in 1983.

There could only be one explanation. We were dealing with two Todd Thompsons! Or rather, one Tod Thompson (one D) and one Todd Thompson (double D).

This of course would also explain the large gap between Tod and Todd’s acting stints.

And for the record, I believe I have actually discovered a photo of the real Tod Thompson.

He looks great, doesn’t he? Anyways, Tod, if you’re trying to hide your Little House association from the paparazzi, or are opposed to my sharing that picture for any other reason, I’ll happily take it down. (Let me know if you’d like to do an interview about Little House, though.)

Well, Thompson looks to have turned out a nice enough guy, but Bart, not so much. Seemingly instantly attracted to Laura for some reason, he addresses Albert as “Shorty” and orders him to give up his seat.

The other kids today include the Misbehaving Little Girl, the Midsommar Kid, the Non-Binary Kid, Willie, Laura, Not-Linda Hunt and her little sister, Not-Gelfling Boy, Andrew Garvey, the AEK, the Sharp-Faced Brother (who’s grown some alarming facial hair, including sideburns), the Girl with Hair of Deepest Auburn, Not-Dagny, and Prototype Shannen Doherty. 

(Also for some reason, Not-Linda makes goo-goo eyes at Bart.)

Bart looks twice the age of most of them. (Since we only have Double-D Todd’s  birthdate, we can’t pinpoint single-D Tod Thompson’s age.)

Willie leaps up to offer Bart his seat. (Does he sense Bart is evil and idolize him instinctively, or is he simply trying to keep a fight from breaking out? You’d think it would be the former; but the Oleson kids are growing up this season.)

And there’s a little kid who looks like Harry Potter. (I never got into that franchise, also for whatever reason, and I admit to yawning when I hear what seem like otherwise normal adults who still yammer on about it. One must eventually set aside the obsessions of childhood, after all.)

Anyways, Bart takes Willie’s spot, which is next to the Harry Potter kid.

Bart, also also for whatever reason, says, “I need the whole seat, I’m too big to sit with someone else.”

The Harry Potter kid wrinkles his nose and says, “Eh, go fly a kite.”

AMELIA: What! I love this kid.

(I couldn’t find definitive dating for “go fly a kite,” but it’s probably anachronistic.)

Bart simply knocks the Harry Potter kid, who’s quite small, to the floor.

WILL: God, we just had one about bullying last week.

Meanwhile, Eliza Jane has been putting up a display about the Solar System. 

She turns when she hears the commotion, but the Harry Potter kid, bugging his eyes a bit (to signal to Eliza Jane that something’s wrong?), says not to worry about it.

“All right, Clarence,” she says.

Meanwhile, across the aisle, Not-Linda Hunt giggles, a bit maliciously, I think. Not her finest hour.

Eliza Jane starts the class, but in a whiplash cut we suddenly find ourselves in the Mercantile.

Harriet Oleson appears.

AMELIA: There’s my gal.

She’s singing “Beautiful Dreamer” (Toby Noe’s love theme) to herself as she sets out the merchandise.

Blink and you’ll miss him, but Carl is skulking around the store too.

Mrs. Slater arrives, and Mrs. Oleson confirms our suspicions the Slaters are rich by dribbling all over her.

Mrs. S says she’s going to put up some curtains.

WILL: Is she going to make the old ones into playclothes for all the children of the town?

Mrs. O shows her some fabric – polka dots in 1970s colors. 

DAGNY: I love when Harriet is showing fabric. That’s when she’s at her best. As a person who’s bought fabric, I want the clerk to ooh and ah, otherwise I’ll worry I didn’t make a good choice.

But Mrs. S thinks the pattern is “absolutely awful.”

Mrs. Oleson laughs in agreement, saying Nels picked it out and should be shot for it. (Paraphrase.)

AMELIA: Good save.

Nels appears and says no, no, she picked it out with her own terrible taste.

Harriet laughs uproariously at this and says, “We do like to have our little jokes!”

Back in school, Eliza Jane is standing behind something that looks like a corpse with an erection under a sheet, but probably isn’t.

Andrew Garvey raises his hand.

AMELIA: Andy had a lot going on during puberty.

Andy asks, “What can you write about the sky?” I think he’s asking for direction on an assignment, not offering a consciousness-expanding rhetorical question for the class to ponder.

Eliza Jane suggests talking about how the moon’s gravitational pull works on things like the tides here on Earth. (An ancient theory, considered scientific fact after the Seventeenth Century.)

Then she says the moon exerts its power over humans as well, making people go crazy. “That is the derivation of the word lunatic,” she says; “from the Latin word for moon, luna.”

In the gallery, Bart looks right at Eliza Jane, crosses his eyes and makes idiotic blubbing noises – presumably in imitation of a “lunatic.”

Kids including Deepest Auburn laugh, but Laura and Alb don’t.

Eliza Jane says the moon can also have effects on the human body.

AMELIA: Keep it clean, Eliza Jane!

But rather than talk about sex and menstruation, Eliza Jane whips out a book of occult lore and starts teaching the kids about werewolves. (Man, I wish I had gotten this recap done before Halloween. Sorry, guys.)

The book is Werewolf, by the Reverend Sabine Baring-Gould. It’s a real one – apparently its full title is The Book of Were-Wolves: Being an Account of a Terrible Superstition.

Published in England in 1865, the book traces European werewolf legends to ancient times. Notably, it’s about the phenomenon of belief in werewolves; it does not claim they are real.

Eliza Jane says Sabine-Gould wrote “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” and he did – the lyrics, anyways. (The music was by Sir Arthur Sullivan, of Gilbert & fame.)

She sings a little bit of the song, and with that, “Onward, Christian Soldiers” takes the lead over “Bringing in the Sheaves” for most-heard hymn on this show, with five appearances. (“Rock of Ages” and “Ring the Bells of Heaven” are tied for a distant third, with two appearances each.)

Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould was one of those Victorian overachievers: In addition to his ministry, he led archaeological expeditions, collected folk songs from country people, painted, designed furniture, and wrote novels, horror stories, and song lyrics. 

His books on folk anthropology were used as a resource by H.P. Lovecraft when he wrote his weird tales.

Baring-Gould was also friends with George Bernard Shaw, who based his play Pygmalion (perhaps better known today as the musical My Fair Lady, or perhaps not) on Baring-Gould’s courtship of a simple country gal, which involved teaching her society manners. (They had a long and happy marriage, apparently.)

I’ve never read The Book of Were-Wolves, but I have read The Vampire: His Kith and Kin, by another extremely odd man of the cloth, the Rev. Montague Summers, who published many books on the supernatural, including a translation of the infamous Malleus Maleficarum (“Hammer of Witches”), a witch-hunter’s guide written in the Fifteenth Century. 

Among other things, the Malleus claims that witches can steal men’s penises and keep them as pets by feeding them corn and oats. (It doesn’t mention if that diet will make them any bigger, though. Ha!)

Summers, who was a true believer in witches, vampires, etc., or claimed to be, also wrote a book on werewolves. 

I haven’t read that either, but the modern consensus on the Rev. Montague Summers is that he wrote these “scholarly” tomes as a kind of performance art and was generally full of shit. Even his claims to be a priest are thought to be a put-on. (If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a flamboyant fake “expert” pontificating on subjects outside the true scope of his knowledge, am I right?)

But here I am in the raspberry bushes again. Where or how Eliza Jane got this book is not explained, but I do like to imagine her having a secret life as Hero Township’s resident witch-and-werewolf-hunter.

Anyways, EJ introduces the Harry Potter kid as “Clarence Tilson, who does marvelous work in papier-mâché.” (I’ll italicize when it’s pronounced the French way.)

“Clarence?” she says, then makes a little peck-peck-peck sound, like a bird or pet penis eating seeds from a birdfeeder.

As Clarence comes up, we get a good look at Eliza Jane’s solar system poster. I’m not sure if it’s a real one, but it doesn’t include Pluto, which would be accurate, since Pluto wasn’t discovered until 1930. 

The map does have a mystery “comet” where Pluto ought to be, though. 

Today Pluto isn’t even considered a proper planet anymore, as it’s too small. (Sorry, Plutonians.)

Clarence, obviously a dweeb-monster of a rare order, immediately launches into a prepared lecture on papier-mâché.

Clarence pulls the sheet off Eliza Jane’s desk, and indeed, we see it did not hide a corpse with an erection, but rather some papier-mâché sculptures.

WILL: Well, it’s no talking machine, but it’s pretty cool I guess. . . .

Eliza Jane interrupts Clarence to ejaculate, “A purple kangaroo! . . . Isn’t it wonderful!”

Bart makes a scoffing face. You can tell papier-mâché kangaroos don’t make him ejaculate.

Clarence gives a brief but serviceable intro to papier-mâché. 

AMELIA: He’s my favorite character on the whole series so far. 

I don’t have much experience with papier-M myself, though when Dags and I made a Skeksis for Halloween a few years back, we did use it to build the hands.

And on the morning of the costume contest, I got up to find our dog Nyssa had eaten a hand! Fortunately I was able to make another fairly quickly. She’s a dumb dog, but don’t worry, I didn’t hold it against her.

But back to our tale. Eliza Jane volunteers Bart to assist Clarence, who gives him some instructions.

AMELIA: Seriously, his face is so good. And he talks like Corey Feldman.

(Clarence is played by Alan R. Peterson, and it’s true, he is great in this one. Sadly, it’s his only acting credit!)

Well, Bart immediately ruins the fun by glooping papier-mâché strips over Clarence’s head.

All the kids laugh, including Laura and Alb.

“I’m makin’ a midget!” Bart laughs, using a term many consider a slur these days, as we discussed when we did “Annabelle.” (I think.)

DAGNY: I don’t like this bully. He’s like Evil Dumb Abel.

Eliza Jane flips out, ordering the two boys outside to clean themselves off. She’s very upset by this incident, which she doesn’t seem to have any clue how to handle.

At the pump, Bart surprises Clarence by saying he’ll give him a dollar (about $33 today) if he does his papier-mâché project for him.

Clarence reluctantly accepts the commission, and Bart points out telling Eliza Jane he apologized is part of the deal, even though he has no intention of doing so.

DAGNY: I have a cousin who was an asshole like this. He still is. When my mom died, he kept calling and harassing my sister because he claimed my mom owed him money.

DAGNY: Then there was my other cousin who thought he would inherit antique furniture from my dad and it turned out he just got cowboy boots.

WILL: I remember. He was so pissed when he found out, he made us pay for his dinner.

After school, all the kids are walking home, including the Blond Kid Who Looks Like a Weeble, who wasn’t even in the classroom.

Mustache Man is chauffeuring some kids in the background too.

Bart follows Laura and Albert closely, offering to carry Laura’s books. When she refuses, he grabs them anyway.

DAGNY: I hate this guy. He reminds me of those rapists who attacked Ma in the street.

WILL: Yes. He doesn’t sexually assault anybody, but he is of the same ilk.

Like a bantam cock, Albert shoots forward to defend Laura against this huge creature, taunting him with his full name.

AMELIA: Yeah, Albert!

DAGNY: Albert is tough as shit. FAFO!

Bart punches him, knocking him to the ground.

Laura leaps onto Bart’s back, and a crowd begins to form.

Over at the Feed & Seed, Almanzo notices the fracas and runs over.

AMELIA: That’s right, Manly, save her!

WILL: Of course he’ll save her. He and the bully are evenly matched. Their hair is identical.

DAGNY: And he wears those pants so perfectly.

Albert leaps back up to attack the bully.

Almanzo rescues Laura, then pulls Bart off Albert.

Bart attacks Almanzo, so Manly gut-punches him.

DAGNY: Yeah, how hot is this? Your man jumps in to beat up a bully who’s picking on your little brother?

WILL: You didn’t think it was so “hot” when I jumped in to challenge those line-cutters at the State Fair.

DAGNY: Oh my God. . . .

Zaldamo then fondles Laura’s pigtail (gag, barf).

As they leave, Bart yells that he’ll have his revenge.

DAGNY: Quite the music, Rosie.

On the way home, Laura and Alb unpack the fight. 

DAGNY: This is beautiful cinematography. It looks like that Meryl Streep movie set in the Amazon.

WILL: Are you thinking of Out of Africa?

DAGNY: Yeah, that’s the one.

Albert says he would eventually have won, and Laura says, “Oh, sure. . . . You were just gonna keep hittin’ his fist with your eye until he cried uncle.” Ha!

It’s possible “say uncle,” the saying, was already in use at this point, since its first appearance in print was in 1891, a mere six years after this story is set. 

Nobody knows its origin, but there sure are some stupid theories out there.

Albert says he has no intention of telling Pa what really happened, and he and Laura then discuss Alb’s questionable overall ethics – a thing some readers have discussed in the comments too.

Albert says it’s not lying if what you say is technically true, like saying, “I fell down” instead of “I fell down when he hit me.” Lies of omission, he suggests, are always fine.

Laura comments that Albert’s ways are twisted, and she’s right, they are. We’ve discussed this before, notably in the context of the scam he pulled on his bio-dad Jeremy Quinn and never told anybody about.

Of course, a devastating test of Albert’s conscience is coming up very soon.

But really, Laura’s no one to talk. She used the exact same strategy to get her parents and Carl Sanderson’s to let them go on their (first) railroad adventure.

Laura says Albert won’t have a chance if Bart follows up on his threats. 

He agrees, saying, “If I don’t have the brawn, I’ll have to use my brains.”

WILL [as NEIL TENNANT, singing]: “Let’s make lots of moneeeeeeey. . . .”

DAGNY: The camerawork here is so pretty, it almost looks like a Canadian TV series. Like Anne of Green Gables, or Pioneer Quest.

The next morning (though it doesn’t really look like morning), Almanzo is dropping Eliza Jane off at school when they are confronted by Bartholomew Slater, Senior, who rages about yesterday’s incident.

Almanzo protests that Bart attacked him first, which is true.

AMELIA: Yeah. Also, where’s your neck, sir?

Neckless he may be, but impressive-resume-less he is not. 

The actor is Sandy Ward, who was on Medical Center, Ironside, Rich Man, Poor Man, The Rockford Files, Charlie’s Angels, Dallas, Hart to Hart, Falcon Crest, Hill Street Blues, The Bold and the Beautiful, Dream On (anybody else remember that?), Murder, She Wrote, Seinfeld, the Patrick Labyorteaux vehicle JAG, and many, many other TV shows.

He was in the movies The Rose, Being There, Stephen King’s Cujo, The Perfect Storm, Police Academy 2, and the Gene Dynarski/Jerry Hardin/Tiger Williams/Paula Crist/Dave Morick vehicle Earthquake.

Perhaps most notably, he was a recurring character on Linwood Boomer’s Malcolm in the Middle.

Anyways, Mr. Slater says it’s ridiculous for adults to intervene in “children’s” fights.

Though he’s clearly nervous given this newcomer’s prominence in the community, Zaldamo stands his ground.

Slater soon changes his tactics, saying it’s clear Eliza Jane is not competent to manage her class if she can’t handle Bart, adding, “maybe the school board will find someone who can.”

WILL: Seems like quite the leap after a single incident.

So, we’re just thirteen minutes in, but already it’s clear this story is a mashup of Season Two’s “Troublemaker” (where Miss Beadle got fired because she couldn’t control the older boys) and Season Three’s “The Bully Boys” (where a brutal new family disrupts the Grove’s status quo).

Well, speaking of troublemakers and bullies, next we see the classroom in full pandemonium mode.

Eliza Jane screams at the kids and claps her hands impotently.

AMELIA: Where did she teach before? She’s really struggling to be an authority here.

(In real life, Eliza Jane Wilder had quite a bit of teaching experience by the time she met the Ingallses.)

Eliza Jane invites Albert up to do a long “dibision” problem on the board, but Bart grabs his suspenders.

Albert eventually disentangles himself. But then Bart starts fooling around with some small item.

AMELIA: What did he drop, a vape?

Albert completes the math problem instantly, of course.

DAGNY: How does he do that without showing his work?

WILL: He’s a genius. There’s no showin’ your work when you’re shootin’ craps in the streets of Winoka.

Alb gets back to his place and sits on a tack Bart put there.

Clarence tattles on Bart, but he picks him up and shakes him. (It is kind of funny.)

Eliza Jane makes a rather formal speech about how patient she’s tried to be with Bart’s bad conduct. (Formal elegance isn’t much use in dealing with bullies, in my experience.)

“Now,” she says, “I am afraid I’m going to have to punish you.”

DAGNY: Punish him! Have you ever done S&M Eliza Jane as a graphic?

(“She actually looks like she’s from Winnipeg in that one,” Dags said. HA!)

“Stand in the corner!” EJ says, voice shaking a bit.

Clarence holds on to his pew as if for dear life, whilst Not-Gelfing Boy smirks nastily.

Andrew Garvey, on the other hand, just looks vacant.

“My pa ain’t gonna like this,” Bart says.

“Isn’t!” Eliza Jane spits back, too quickly. (I realize it’s her job to correct grammar, and it’s also mine in my day job to a certain extent, but I hate when people are pedants about such things in ordinary life. Or on social media. If there’s anything I learned from this show, it’s that unpolished speech is not necessarily a sign of ignorance or poor judgment. Stupidity cuts a line across all education levels.)

“Stand in the corner!” Eliza Jane commands again.

Bart slowly stands, walks to the front of the room . . . and then knocks over Eliza Jane’s chair.

Horrified, Eliza Jane tells him to pick it up.

“Pick it up yourself,” Bart says coolly.

Then he dares her to expel him and face the consequences.

Stunned, and knowing this is playing out in front of an audience, Eliza Jane cracks.

“Today,” she says out of nowhere, voice now shaking uncontrollably, “I’d like to introduce decimals to the more advanced students. . . .”

But she only gets as far as writing the number 2 on the board before she starts weeping and says, “I’m sorry . . . I’m not feeling well today . . . Class dismissed.”

I love Lucy Lee Flippin in this episode. Eliza Jane’s been a fun character from the moment she was introduced, but today, for the first time, we get to see the fragile individual she is underneath her camp mannerisms. (Said mannerisms are often a mask for insecurities, as I know too well.)

Not everybody likes her as much as I do, though.

AMELIA: Why is she crying?

WILL: You don’t have sympathy for her?

AMELIA: No. My students would have SWUNG the chair at me.

(Mimi works as a para in a school, and it’s true, she has to deal with a lot of issues from her students, including regular violence. I don’t know how she does it. She loves it, though. My personal theory is since the kids are all grown now, she misses bossing her siblings about.)

The tweens and littlest Grovesters awkwardly shuffle from the room.

Remaining behind, Bart leers at Eliza Jane and says, “Am I dismissed too, Miss Wilder?”

DAGNY [as ELIZA JANE]: “Take me!”

No, she doesn’t say that. What a crude suggestion.

“Have a nice day!” Bart says with insincerity (and anachronistically).

He leaves Eliza Jane to weep alone.

WILL: I fucking hate this guy.

After a break, we see Grace toddling stupidly through Ma’s drying sheets.

Albert and the Ing-Gals get home and gossip with Ma about what happened.

Ma thanks them for the report and then leaves to deliver her own to Pa.

DAGNY: That’s right. Call in the big guns.

The kids watch her go.

WILL: Laura’s parts have been shit this season.

And the next thing we see is the backside of Charles Ingalls as he stomps over to the school.

AMELIA [singing]: “Can he fix it? Yes he can!”

He goes inside, where he finds Eliza Jane still in tears.

DAGNY: It’s, like, a forty-five minute drive to town, he’s lucky she’s still there.

WILL: Well, Ma probably went to Alice Garvey’s and called Mrs. Oleson and had her run over and tell Eliza Jane not to leave yet, Pa’s coming.

DAGNY: . . . 

WILL: Alternatively, maybe Pa was at the Mill the whole time, and she called Mrs. Oleson from Alice Garvey’s –

DAGNY: Okay.

Eliza Jane starts to explain, but he says he’s heard the story. He reaches out to touch her shoulder, to allow the healing, surely intoxicatingly comforting energy of Charles Ingalls to transfer to her body.

Eliza Jane looks up to his face and composes herself. 

WILL [as ELIZA JANE]: “I want you to kill him, Charles.”

Eliza Jane then gives a (quite insightful) analysis of the situation, saying her one weakness as a teacher has now led to her downfall as a whole. I’ve experienced that feeling, I think. (Eliza Jane and pre-shitguy John Junior are probably the Little House characters I identify with the most. Fucked-up but goodhearted nerds.)

She also tells Father Chuck that Mr. Slater has been making not-so-subtle threats against her.

Pa makes some acid observations about parents who overlook their children’s evil, and says he’s gathered all the data he needs to confront the bullies.

Eliza Jane looks at this god amongst men with gratitude, and he gives her a smile in return saying: Don’t worry, dear – you are one of us now, a true Grovester.

Back at the Old La[r]abee Farm, though, Slater doesn’t want to hear Charles’s complaints.

Slater says Bart’s explanation of the incident is good enough for him, as “I’m certainly gonna believe my son over a stranger.” (He’s not very deeply characterized. And Mrs. Slater has disappeared from the story, never to return.)

Charles leaves in frustration, and we see Bart has been lurking and listening in the barn.

Later, at the Wilder Farm, Almanzo is furious when Charles reports Slater’s response.

Charles and the Wilder siblings brainstorm ways to deal with the problem, but Eliza Jane admits she has no idea what to do.

From outside, then, comes the voice of Bart, chanting a mocking poem:

Going to school is lots of fun,

From laughing we have gained a ton,

We laugh until we have a pain,

At Lazy, Lousy Eliza Jane.

Somewhat surprisingly, this is a direct reference to Little Town on the Prairie, in which the same taunt is used against Eliza Jane . . . by Laura!

(Apparently the joke in the book was that Eliza Jane once had head lice. Nice, LIW.)

[UPDATE: Reader Vinícius notes that this episode may have some connection to reality (an unusual thing on this show). In Little Town, Eliza Jane is depicted as an inconsistent teacher at best: She struggles to control the children and is notably vindictive – for instance, punishing Carrie when she’s angry at Laura. Sounds a far cry from the pedantic but essentially lovable version of her we get on the show.]

Anyways, Eliza Jane throws open the door, and Bart laughs and literally scampers away. He’s really immature, as well as an asshole. (These are the people running our country right now. We live in vile times.)

Manly starts out the door to beat Bart’s ass, but Eliza Jane says, “Almanzo James! Not that way.” 

WILL: “Almanzo James”? Did she raise him?

AMELIA: Not necessarily. I call Olive “Olive Dolores” sometimes.

(In real life, Eliza Jane was seven years older than Almanzo, and so probably felt at least somewhat maternal towards him.)

She declares to Charles that she’s ready to face the school board.

Well, as you might expect, Harriet Oleson is all for getting rid of Eliza Jane. Why? Because Bartholomew Slater, Sr., is a cash cow for the community.

She’s slathering her hands with lotion or ointment when we see her ordering Nels to take her side in the vote.

AMELIA: Isn’t it a conflict of interest to have multiple family members on a school board?

DAGNY: Yes.

Nels says no way in hell I’ll side with you, so Harriet says, fine, by the powers vested in me as School Board President, you’re impeached.

School boards of one sort or another existed in America since colonial times, and, like many other aspects of life, they became more formalized in the Nineteenth Century. 

In Minnesota, women weren’t even allowed to vote in school board elections until 1875, and during the time period of this show, it would have been rare, though not unheard of, to see them in positions of authority. We’ll just assume President and Chair Harriet Oleson is extra that way, as usual.

Miffed, Nels says, “Where are you going to find an idiot who would agree with you?”

And of course, this is followed by an amusing cut showing that Nellie Oleson has now taken her father’s place on the board. 

Mrs. Oleson and Nellie argue that the Slaters have pledged an endowment or the like to the school. (Seems unlikely, since we know Bartholomew Senior sees no value in education. Nevertheless, if that’s their story, we’ll go with it.)

Eliza Jane just sits glumly at her desk.

WILL: This is a good Eliza Jane episode.

Mrs. Oleson reminds Charles that the Mill needs Slater’s money just as much as the school and Mercantile do. (We’ve never established how the Mill is managed since Mr. Hanson’s death. Here she seems to imply Charles is in charge, ho ho ho. Did Hanson leave it to Doc, who then sold it to the workers, co-op-style? That’s probably the most likely explanation.)

Nellie says they should simply replace Eliza Jane with a tougher teacher. Seems a bit cruel, but of course she was never taught by Eliza Jane and so doesn’t have any sentimental attachment to her.

WILL [as NELLIE]: “In the days of Miss Beadle . . .”

I would suggest Nellie write to her ex-stepmother-in-law, renowned pedagogy expert Eva “The Bead” Simms, to ask her advice, but I can tell this recap’s going to be long and we must keep going.

The Olesons call for a vote, and seeing as it’s a tie (Charles and Doc being the only other members), Bart will stay.

WILL: Why do they have an even number of board members in the first place?

AMELIA: Yeah. Seems like there are a lot of ties.

Well, in fact, while the Walnut Grove School Board has acted in its official capacity in a number of stories, we have only seen the full body assembled twice. And indeed, on both other occasions, the board has consisted of four members.

First, Doc Baker (apparently the chair), Mr. Hanson, Nels and Mrs. Oleson served as the selection committee to find a substitute teacher when Miss Beadle broke every bone in her body. 

On this occasion, there was no tie needing to be broken; however, Mrs. Oleson did create a controversy by going rogue and browbeating Caroline into quitting the job over the “favoritism” she showed Abel Makay.

The next time we saw the full board, as we mentioned, was under similar circumstances, when the Bead struggled to prevent fighting and other shenanigans amongst some giant teenage morons. 

That time, the board comprised Nels (chair), Mr. Hanson, Mr. Oleson, and Charles. The board voted to let Miss Beadle go. We never learned the spread of that vote, but Roman suggested Mr. Hanson joined the opposition because he thought the Bead had eyes for Doc.

Anyways, this iteration of the board doesn’t vote on terminating Eliza Jane’s contract, but she rises, clearly crestfallen, and exits.

DAGNY: She should just go seduce Bart. Problem solved.

AMELIA: Or Laura should. Get him so sex-mad that he forgets about torturing the teacher.

We then get a shot of the Little House at night.

WILL: Oh, is Eliza Jane in there getting drunk?

No. Upstairs, Laura and Albert discuss how if Wilder and Company leave town, it’s goodbye Laura Ingalls Wilder!

Their conversation is pretty dopey, with Laura saying things like, “The only problem is, Bartholomew is too big and strong for us to handle!”

Then they say goodnight like an old married couple, and turn in.

The next day, Laura seeks out Manly to discuss how Eliza Jane apparently gave her notice.

She asks if that means he’ll be leaving town too.

AMELIA: Why do they assume Eliza Jane is leaving? Couldn’t she just take a different job in town?

WILL: Yeah. She’d make a great concierge at the hotel.

Manly stands in grave silence for several seconds, then sits down and says, “I’m afraid so.”

In a way that tries not to be icky, anyway, Manly and Laura say they’ll miss each other when he’s gone.

AMELIA: No.

Meanwhile, David Rose slithers up and entwines them in his music.

WILL: This melody sounds like the Growing Pains theme.

This is of course another repeated melody, one in the past I described as “Love is a Manly Spendored Thing.” (Reader jtoddward has described as “the Laura/Almanzo Ooey-Gooey Love Theme” – a fitting description.)

Manly departs, and Laura’s reverie is interrupted by her brother, who says he’s stolen Eliza Jane’s book on werewolves.

Mustache Man and the Unknown Grovester pass by, but take no interest.

The kids’ conversation is pretty idiotic, but Albert’s has a big idea: make a fake werewolf to scare Bart.

AMELIA: My God! It’s “The Lake Kezia Monster”!

It really is. Doogs also wrote that one; “Troublemaker” was (“Fat”) John Hawkins and “The Bully Boys” was B.W. Sandefur.

Anyways, David gives us this big booming march in the trombone section, for whatever reason, as Laura and Alb scamper away.

AMELIA: I like the werewolf music.

Next we see them constructing some giant papier-mâché creation.

AMELIA: Where’s Clarence? You’d think he’d love to help with this.

WILL: Yeah. Or Willie!

Baby Grace toddles up and says, “What on earth is that?”

No, actually, Caroline says it, but it’s quite funny if you watch it and imagine it’s Grace saying it.

Albert says they’re making a rock, because rocks are “artistic and practical.” (I think Albert is seriously slipping lately. In “‘Author! Author!’”, he couldn’t think up a lie about how they got the Dowager’s money, and now he says this is “artistic and practical”? How does that make any sense? A rock?)

Even Ma, not normally an aggressive inquisitor, is skeptical, saying, “What use would anyone possibly have for a papier-mâché rock of that size?” (Of course she pronounces it the French way. Would they even have heard of papier-mâché before this week?)

Well, then David gives us some wacky comedy music . . . 

DAGNY: This is a good David Rose episode.

. . . over a montage of Laura and Alb trying to saw through chains . . .

. . . and cutting the beard off a sleeping tramp or hobo. 

WILL: Oh, this is just like Les Miz.

AMELIA: Huh?

WILL: You know. She sold her hair for wigs.

(This hobo gets a credit, as “Old Man.” He’s Elmore Vincent, who was on The Lone Ranger and Father Murphy, and whom we’ll meet a few more times on this show before we’re through.)

Next we see Clarence delivering Bart a papier-mâché alligator.

WILL: If he got rid of the teacher, what’s the point of doing the homework?

But like many a great dealmaker to this day, Bart doesn’t pay his debts. No such weakling, he!

Back in the Ingallses’ farmyard, Laura and Albert are finishing up their rock.

DAGNY: There’s no way that’s a kid’s papier-mâché project.

Clarence sadly trudges up. Kind of a long walk from the Slater/Lar[r]abee Farm.

He must live north of Casa dell’Ingalls. (Perhaps in that old Victorian house that Amos Pike built?)

The kids plot and scheme.

DAGNY: Was Michael Landon bullied himself as a kid?

WILL: Yeah, I think he was.

DAGNY: You can tell. There’s this real satisfaction he takes in vengeance against bullies on the show.

Next we see Eliza Jane coming into the classroom. The class is present, but Bart is playing a harmonica in his seat. 

Outrageously, he continues to play as she makes her farewell address to the class.

Eliza Jane’s speech, it turns out, is full of digs at Bart and his family.

WILL: Did Patrick Labyorteaux have brain surgery the week they filmed this or something? He’s really been a non-presence in this one.

Editorializing – I would say actually pretty inappropriately – Eliza Jane apologizes for the school board having been “bullied by a wealthy fool.” There’s a glint in her eye as she says this.

Bart stops fooling around with the harmonica and says angrily, “You watch what you say about my pa!”

In what should be declared a classic Little House moment if it isn’t already, Eliza Jane says, “How did you know I was talking about your father? Was it the word wealthy, or the word fool?”

This is the most unprofessional conduct we’ve seen from any teacher at this school (including the Bead, who actually made out in the classroom once), and the kids all laugh nastily in appreciation. This time, it’s nice to see.

Clarence even slaps Bart on the back!

AMELIA: Clarence! I love Clarence.

DAGNY: Yeah. He’s really got nuts.

“Class dismissed,” Eliza Jane says with a triumphant smirk and literal applause for herself. She’s got nuts too, after a fashion.

Bart gives her ugly looks but no more real trouble.

(I like how in that picture, the Midsommar Kid has turned around to laugh at Bart one last time.)

Well, for some reason, Bart decides now is the time to beat up Albert.

But Albert turns around, snarling and foaming at the mouth!

Bart suspects rabies, but as Laura leads Albert away, Clarence explains that he’s actually a werewolf and it’s the night of the full moon.

AMELIA: Were you ever involved in a scheme like this as a kid?

WILL: No, because I didn’t grow up in a fictional entertainment.

In September of 1885 the full moon fell on a Thursday, so that works with it being a schoolday if it is true.

“Ah, there ain’t no werewolves in Minnesota!” Bart says.

Clarence reminds Bart that Albert is an orphan, and theorizes his bio-father is from Transylvania. (This is anachronistic. The public’s fascination with Transylvania as a backdrop for all things supernatural didn’t come about till the publication of Bram Stoker’s Dracula in 1897.)

Clarence clarifies (Clarencifies?) that Transylvania is “in the Balkan Mountains,” though of course it’s actually the Carpathians.

Clarence produces Eliza Jane’s copy of The Book of Were-Wolves and bets Bart that he’s too scared to check on Albert tonight, under the full moon.

Well, Bart takes the bait, of course.

AMELIA: I like that all the bullies on the show are so dumb and easily defeated.

WILL: Yeah, they’re like the Master on Doctor Who.

That night, Ma and Pa are apparently going out, since Laura is helping Pa put on a tie.

From the kitchen, Ma says she’s just about ready to go.

DAGNY: Whoa.

Ma is wearing a newish dress.

DAGNY: That really . . . shapes her.

AMELIA: It sure does.

I say newish, because she also wore it in “Annabelle” and “The Angry Heart,” but we didn’t get a very good look at it those times.

WILL: It’s got a lacy bodice. That always gets you worked up, Dags.

DAGNY: Ha! Yeah, talk about Boobilicious 2.

I’m very sorry to report that Boobilicious 2 was one of the dresses destroyed in the 1995 fire at Old Tucson Studios that we discussed last week.

Apparently Ma and Pa have been invited over for dinner with the Garveys. (Why the kids weren’t invited isn’t explained, nor why Andy would stay to have dinner with the grownups instead of coming to hang out with his friends instead.)

(Also, if they’re just going over to Alice and Big Jon’s, why are they all dressed up?)

Ma instructs Carrie to mind Laura and completes her ensemble, fittingly enough, with Stiffy, her sexy funeral/travel bonnet.

They depart, and, once Laura has bribed Carrie into feeding Grace, she and Albert spring into action.

They head out to the barn with Pa’s severed-head bag, leaving Carrie to tell Grace to eat – and I counted this very precisely – two thousand times.

AMELIA: Tell her if she doesn’t eat, you’ll burn her with a match.

AMELIA: Seriously, they leave Carrie in charge? That’s irresponsible.

WILL: They should come in and Carrie broke her teeth out in Grace’s head.

AMELIA: Oh, haw haw, Pops.

(The first time we decided to leave Amelia and Olive home by themselves, Amelia broke her teeth out in Olive’s head.)

Out in the barn, Laura applies werewolf makeup to Albert with improbable speed.

The finished makeup looks terrific.

DAGNY: Do you think Teen Wolf was inspired by this?

WILL: In a roundabout way, yes!

Because of course, Michael Landon’s very first star vehicle was a movie called I Was a Teenage Werewolf, made in 1957, when he was twenty.

The movie was a stepping stone to Bonanza for the young actor, and was an influential early horror film about high-school kids, a subgenre I probably don’t have to tell you is still a force today.

I have no doubt the film was a specific influence on Teen Wolf – both the original 1985 film with Michael J. Fox and the successful later TV series.

I thought there was another Teen Wolf series in 1990s, but apparently that was called Big Wolf on Campus and was not part of the TW franchise.

Werewolf movies aren’t my favorite subgenre, but I do like the Ginger Snaps series. Canadian. It’s witty and quite sad, a coming-of-age story about two tomboy/nerd teenage sisters. One of them gets bitten by a werewolf and begins taking an interest in . . . less childlike things, leaving the younger sister behind. Worth a look for fans of chatterbox 1990s scary-movie-style dialogue.

One of the only movies I ever walked out of was a werewolf movie from 1997: An American Werewolf in Paris, the terrible, far-too-late sequel to the (very entertaining) An American Werewolf in London. My friends and I got a real thrill out of leaving, and imagined the rest of the audience going home and saying, “People walked out, it was so bad.” Ha!

Anyways, I just watched I Was a Teenage Werewolf last night, and it is pretty delightful. Landon is great, Old Brewster Davenport from last week’s story plays his dad, and it features what has to be one of the worst performances of a song ever committed to film. (It’s not Landon singing.)

You can enjoy it here, over a montage of highlights from the movie.

I could say more, and would if I liked werewolf movies better, but we must continue forward.

As I say, Albert’s monster makeup is really quite good. He looks like Pazuzu from The Exorcist.

WILL: That’s an elaborate prosthetic. What is he using for adhesive, cow manure?

Albert appears to be wearing standard novelty werewolf teeth, though – viz., plastic ones.

We’ve all seen Albert’s teeth, and I’m sort of surprised they bothered giving him fake fangs at all.

Laura starts to put Albert in chains.

AMELIA: Why do they have these chains in the first place? With shackles?

DAGNY: Ma and Pa are probably involved in Eliza Jane’s BDSM group.

WILL: Yeah. That’s where they really are tonight.

Outside, Bart and Clarence approach on foot. Laura comes out, and she and Clarence do some comical playacting to keep the bully dizzy.

We hear mournful wolf howls coming from the barn. (I have no idea if Matthew Labyorteaux did them himself, but it sounds like him to me.)

Laura says if you must, go see for yourself. 

Tod Thompson seems uncertain whether this scene is meant to be a joke or not. I am too, actually.

They ope the gates and Bart recoils from the transformed Albert.

WILL: Is this where you thought the story was going in the first half?

DAGNY/AMELIA: No.

Tod Thompson tries to pull off the impossible task of pretending to find this scene frightening.

The thing I wonder about is, what is the object of this scheme? Do they think Bart’ll drop out of school tomorrow or something? What kind of reaction would that be to seeing a werewolf?

Or are they assuming he’ll be so scared, he’ll be a good person from now on? I don’t know why they would think that.

Well, who knows.

Anyways, Albert the werewolf suddenly breaks free!

Bart stumbles out in terror and trips.

Albert picks up the papier-mâché boulder and holds it, Atlas-style, above the squirming Bart. (I guess it was artistic and practical.) 

Albert’s also now making noises that sound more like a cat than like a wolf, but I expect Labyorteaux was tired by this point.

Well, it turns out their plan was Option B (Bart becomes a good person out of fear of the werewolf).

Bart begs and pleads for Laura to call the werewolf off.

AMELIA: This is preposterous.

And just when it feels this can’t possibly go on any longer, Carrie suddenly appears.

DAGNY: Carrie’s vest makes her look like a little pauper.

AMELIA: Yeah. Does she go get the shotgun?

No, Carrie actually blows the whole scheme up by telling Albert to cut the bullshit with his fake rock.

Then Bart beats Albert up. Thanks, Carrie.

After a commercial break, we get a cute shot of a rock that’s revealed to be Albert’s papier-mâché one.

Meanwhile, Laura and Carrie walk the road.

WILL: That’s pretty. Looks like Wisconsin.

We learn Albert has so far successfully hidden his new black eye from Ma and Pa.

They discuss how they’re the only ones who tried to save Eliza Jane, and Albert says it’s just them against so many. Laura suddenly gets an idea, and off she and Carrie run.

(I hope it’s a good one, because we’ve got six minutes left to this effing thing, and we’re basically back at Square One.)

David Rose gives us a bizarre (if awesome) “fiddler’s reel” as they rush away.

AMELIA: That’s some music.

The next day is the day of the big Papier-Mâché-Off, which Eliza Jane said she wanted to hang around for.

Laura gathers the kids on the playground/graveyard before school to discuss Bart.

DAGNY: Are they gonna stone him to death?

WILL: Yeah. It’s “The Lottery.”

(Spoilers for “The Lottery.”)

Laura says it’s time for the whole student body to tackle the problem – literally! She adds, “There isn’t anything that any one can do, but there’s plenty that all of us can do!”

AMELIA: Socialism!

WILL: Nah, just a good old-fashioned American vigilante mob.

The kids listen intently.

DAGNY: This is like The Wicker Man, what with the stoning and the papier-mâché masks.

WILL: I know. I keep expecting Morris dancers to appear.

“This is our school!” Laura goes on.

WILL [as SEAN ASTIN]: “It’s OUR time! Down here!”

AMELIA: Yeah. Actually, this whole story is very Goonies.

David brings in Laura’s Leitmotif in a noble brass arrangement. I’ve been having some interesting conversations in the comments about all the major musical themes I’ve never talked about. And it’s true, I have missed quite a number! 

Anyways, this is apparently Laura’s theme, which was first used all the way back at the very beginning of the Pilot.

Slater Père & Fils drive up. 

WILL: What happened to the mom? You’d think she’d take an interest in this, since she scolded him about his behavior in the first scene.

Slater orders Bart to class, and himself heads into the Mercantile, where Eliza Jane and Almanzo are also shopping.

Apparently word that the Wilders are leaving town has reached Harriet Oleson, because she makes them pay in cash. (A mean little detail.)

(Although, it does amuse me that when Pa says “cash on the barrel” it’s great advice, but when Mrs. Oleson does the same thing we hate her for it.)

Bart finds all the kids lined up waiting for him at the school.

WILL: My God, it’s Children of the Corn.

The kids encircle the bully. I think you can see Melissa Gilbert trying not to laugh, but I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.

And then, as Shirley Jackson put it, they’re upon him.

AMELIA: Why are they going “rahr, rahr”?

[UPDATE: We just watched the (marvelous) movie Weapons as a family last night, and I have no doubt it was 99 percent inspired by this episode.]

Eliza Jane, Almanzo and Slater rush onto the porch, but Manly prevents Slater from intervening, saying mob justice is the only true justice. (Paraphrase.)

Later, the Alamo Tourist from Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and the Medieval Peasant Woman drive through town in the Yellow-Wheeled Buckboard.

Eliza Jane enters the school to find the kids have badly beaten Bart Slater.

AMELIA: This is a weird story.

AMELIA: They should have blinded him. Then he’d have to transfer to the Blind School.

Bart apologizes and says he’s fully reformed, astonishing Eliza Jane.

DAGNY: Does this one turn out to be a dream?

Nope! The End! 

AMELIA: What was the name of that one?

WILL: “The Werewolf of Walnut Grove.”

AMELIA: Hm. A little on-the-nose.

Bum-Bum-Ba-Dum!

STYLE WATCH: Boobilicious 2.

I thought Baby Grace’s bottle looked like a perfume bottle.

With his bruise makeup, Bart looks a bit like Leatherface.

Charles appears to go commando again.

THE VERDICT: 

AMELIA: For plausibility, zero out of ten. For entertainment value, four. I like Manly a lot in it.

You know, I find this one very interesting. While it’s curiously violent, the writing is pretty light and fluffy – as you might expect from the story of a kid dressing up as a werewolf to keep his teacher from being fired.

But there’s a strange unpleasantness that makes it a more complex creature. Lucy Lee Flippin plays Eliza Jane’s reaction to the situation completely straight (and devastatingly well, I think), which makes it all feel a bit more real than you’d expect from a comedy about a bully getting his comeuppance. (Tod Thompson is very nasty in it, too, which gives the scenario even more of a dark edge.)

Interestingly imperfect, I’d say, but truly a story you’d find on no other show. And Clarence should have gotten his own spinoff.

UP NEXT: “’Whatever Happened to the Class of ’56’”