D:L&L (finale - Narrator) -- In and Out

Dot came to with a start, eyes blinking against the morning light as she tried to sit up, but Skinny Jake was there, and the other boys from the 3rd Street hook-n-ladder, paramedics who liked it when a rough-and-tumble and extremely cute girl waltzed in and laid down the law on poker night.  They'd driven out from the fire house as soon as a bloodied young man had stumbled into the all-night wellness center missing an eye and screaming her name.  They'd stayed a couple of hours, dressing Dot's scratches and checking her vitals, moving her to her bed - much better place than the floor - and they'd watched over her in shifts until she finally woke some time around six in the morning.  


She was out of sorts, which was to be expected, ranting and raving about a storm, the house, a purple fog, a lion, a green witch and a wizard from Kansas, something about a scarecrow that would be king, rabbits, a crazed woman in a pink gown, and a man made of metal with an ax to grind.  Oh, and she went on and on about a pair of ruby slippers.  They took it in and looked knowingly at each other, and Jake remarked later that it was likely she had a mild concussion.  He was the most experienced of the group, and said while she seemed okay, the brain worked in mysterious ways, especially when it had had a jolt.  What else could explain what was coming out of her mouth?  After all, she'd had a bad fall, she'd been nearly raped, and she'd been unattended for half the night before that little shit Andy had shown up at the clinic and spilled the beans.  He'd be receiving a visit from the sheriff soon, and Old Man Diggs didn't care for funny business in his little town.


Shortly after seven, they packed up the truck and left, waving at Dot as she sat on her porch, her head still aching, partly from the pain of the hard knock and partly from the disappointment that she hadn't been gone for weeks, that everything she'd experienced was nothing more than a bad dream, and like so many dreams - Jake had explained - it had ended with a fall, which often jolts the dreamer awake.


But how could that be?  How could it be true?  Or was he wrong?


Dot spent the whole day in the rocking chair on the porch, the weather cool and breezy as the forecast storm pushed north of town.  She sipped iced tea all day - Jake had warned her off beer or whiskey due to the head injury - and daydreamed, her feet curled up underneath her and hidden by the extra large AC/DC tank top she'd chosen from the hamper.  Oz was on her mind, and nothing would make it go away.  


She could see it all so clearly - the purple fog turning the Munchkins into zombies; the train wreck; the Tin Man's bloody ax; the way the sudden tornado had swept up the Scarecrow and whipped him away; the Grimmerie glowing in the dark next to a little black figure; Glinda's nasty snarl and quick wand; the Lion's tail between his legs...and so so much more.  Had they all just been part of an elaborate, lucid dream?  Was it just like the dream her grandmother had had when she'd fallen and hit her head?  And everyone had thought the old woman was crazy because she'd told the story as if she'd actually been there - even though when she told it, you could feel how honest the tale was.  And yet...


Dot closed her eyes after lunch, her naked legs still tucked underneath her, Toto sitting in her lap, locked and loaded, and she drifted off for a bit, her mind still focused on that one thing that wouldn't leave her be even for a second.  It was still too fresh.  And for a moment, she could see it all again, plain as the nose on her face, her grandmother would say:  in the garden, Fiyero embraced his love, the little green girl who would grow up to be the Wicked Witch of the West and then the Crown Empress at his side.  In the main hall, the Tin Man knelt over the bodies of hundreds of little fallen tik toks, tears falling freely from his rusting eyes, his heart broken but beating again.  The Lion, however, was nowhere to be found; only at the top of the highest tower in the room where the magic mirror claimed a place of honor on the wall, a little lion cub gnawed on a pair of gleaming Ruby Slippers.


When she woke, she felt refreshed and smiled for the first time all day.  Maybe, she thought to herself, that was exactly how the dream was supposed to end, or that was exactly what was happening now.  Oz was safe again, and it had taken a girl from Kansas to straighten it all out.


What else could it be?

Just then, a little blue Pontiac pulled up the dirt driveway, and Dot smiled, recognizing it as belonging to one of the paramedics.  It was Nick and Leo come back to check on her.  She waived from the porch as they got out and shouted, "So, where's Jake then?  We need a fourth for poker."

Leo laughed and pointed back to the car.  "He'll be along.  He's bringing the beer.  Besides, not even a scarecrow like Jake can squeeze in when we're riding in Nick's little tin can Fiero."

The End

D:L&L (part 135 - Lion) -- A Fine Line

Apprehension always spoiled a good thing. Am I doing the right thing? What the hell am I doing? Shit, maybe I should go back and see what’s up with the Monkey-bats and the crew. The thoughts invaded my mind, no wonder I was crazy. I couldn’t get my brain to shut the fuck up. But the truth was I wasn’t going to go back. I didn’t know if the crew was dead or alive, even little Gilly. And quite frankly, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Her.

She was waiting…for me. I knew she was. I could feel it.  She was going to forgive me, and I’d already forgiven her.  I didn’t even care about the price I was going to have to pay for that forgiveness.  She was going to hurt me, I was going to bleed. Some things were worth the price. 

I strutted closer to the palace, wanting to run, but I was a Lion, damn it.  I did have some pride. She could take that from me later, and I’d gladly hand it over.  She was my Queen after all, and I was looking forward to her ruling me again. My cock hardened at the thought of her mounting me, of taking me into her.  I wanted her immediately. My legs picked up the pace, a little faster would get me there a little quicker. But I was going to keep my pride, I wasn’t going to give up my fucking pride.

Large pink blooms began to appear along the path, their scent intoxicating. Their scent—her scent, I couldn’t tell the difference.  My nuts tightened. How I loved the way she smelled. Her perfume was light and florally, as I remembered. And her cunt, I could smell her cunt. She was ready to be fucked, she wanted to be fucked. My ego bloomed along with the flowers; no one could fuck like I could fuck. She was all around me. Her laughter seemed to radiate straight from the delicate pink flowers—taunting…alluring. Images of my Glinda in her pink dress and ruby slippers filled my mind, all other thoughts eliminated. She stood at her window, a bottle of booze in one hand, her glowing blonde hair half falling out of her up do.  Her lipstick was smeared across her luscious lips, and wet streaks cut through her makeup down her soft, rosy cheeks. She leaned clumsily against the window frame, staring out over her kingdom. Her free hand worked at the space between her legs.  Slugging back the bottle, she drank heavily, liquid dribbling out of the sides of her mouth. “FUCK!” She yelled, as she brought the bottle away from her lips. She ground her hand harder against herself. “Come to me, my love,” I heard her cry. “I need you.  I need you right now. Come fuck me NOW!” —I ran.

At the entrance, the thickly-slabbed wooden door was open.  Nothing to hinder me, nothing to fight.  I clambered up the marble steps and through the porthole into my dream world.  I scrambled up the stairway to my heaven.  I slowed my pace as her bedroom door grew near. I pressed a paw against the only thing blocking me from the satisfaction I craved.  My ears twitched, I could hear her beyond the door, sobbing quietly, calling for me.  I pushed, the hinges didn’t make a sound as the door opened.  And there she was —I couldn’t breathe. The visions I had didn’t detail what reality had in store for me. She was a mess. Sitting on the floor, her back propped against the bed. I couldn’t help notice a strange statue, an orange man, a look of horror on his face.  I knew that face from somewhere. But who cared…my love was breaking before my very eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Could nothing go right? Just one fucking time, I needed this to be right, and it was all wrong.  My cock started to deflate, my heart began to break. I walked to her slowly. “Glinda, I’m here beautiful.”

“Well, it’s about fucking time,” she slurred. “I’ve been fucking waiting on you for-fucking-ever. Why did you leave me, Lionis?” She slugged another hit from her bottle and put her head on her bent knees. The bottle fell from her hand and turned on its side. The liquid flowed from the opening onto the carpet. She didn’t move. 

I crossed the room to her, stepping in another wet puddle of who-knew-what—I could swear it smelled like Bunny blood—bent down and picked her up.  She wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers tangling in my mane. It felt so good to have her next to me again. To feel her warmth, to touch her flesh.  She nestled her face into my neck, a tingle pulsed through me. I gently kissed the top of her head.  She moaned softly. “I’ll never leave you again, I promise,” I whispered to her.  She moved against me, in my arms, continued to nuzzle at my neck…then bit me. 

I threw her onto the bed.  She leaned up on her left elbow and laughed hysterically.  My blood oozed down her lip to her chin. “They’re trying to stop me, Lionis…stop us. They can’t win. This is my kingdom.  My world.  Why do they think they can stop me?”  The sky outside the window darkened more, the rain like a river falling from the sky. “I will kill them all.  All of them! Then I won’t be bothered by any of them.  Then it can be you and me.  We can fuck all we want.  We can go where we want, and no one can hurt us.  No one will sneer at us.”

“Baby, you’ve got to stop this…” was all I could get out before she flung herself at me, her nails held like claws ready to rake the flesh from my bones.

“Don’t you tell me to stop. This is for us.  I am doing this for us!” She screamed.  I stepped back before her hands made contact.  She stumbled to the floor on her hands and knees.  A deep growling emanated from her throat as she looked up at me, wild-eyed. 

She’d lost it.  I could see there was no happy ending here.  I wanted to take her into me, to protect her, she was lethal. 

Standing up, her eyes fixated on mine, she quietly spoke, which was a whole hell of a lot more frightening than her screaming and raving, “You say you love me, Lionis.  Then why don’t you want to be with me?”

“I do love you, baby.  I do want to be with you,” I replied.

She stepped towards me.  Her drunken swagger would have been comical had the situation not been so serious. You can’t save her, Lionis.  You have to end this.  Only you can end it.  Stop her from her madness. The familiar voices sing-songed through my brain.  My dead best friend called to me.  Cu’s gruff voiced hollered, “Kill her, Lionis.  Kill her just as you killed me!”  I gasped. 

Fear plastered itself to my face.  Glinda grinned at me.  “You’re afraid of me, Lionis? The big brave fraidy Cat, huh?”  She laughed.

“Uhh,”  I didn’t know what to say. The smell of Bunnies wafted through my nostrils, I furrowed my eyebrows trying to find the source.  Where the fuck were those fuzz balls? Glancing around the room, I saw nothing. Nothing but the mirror gazing at me.  And don’t tell me I’m crazy for that.  That mirror was alive.  It fed, it hungered.  Yessss, yessss…come to us, Lionis. Join us. 

“What are you looking for?” Glinda inquired, swinging her head around, checking out the room.  Her stray bits of hair flung around as her head swiveled to survey the room, her arms crossing at her chest.  “Ahhhh, I see. You like that mirror, don’t you? Thank you for giving it to me, by the way.  I had a bit of an infestation while you were away. It was a great terminator, so to speak.” She laughed the maniacal sing-song of a crazy mother fucker. 

She crossed the room and gazed into the reflective glass, primping her hair.  “It’s calling to me, Lionis.  It’s telling me to shove you through to the other side. But don’t worry,” she blew a kiss to her reflection, “you’ll be of no use to me dead.”

I’d heard of manic women, but had never really witnessed it.  The woman before me was as calm as glassy waters. Smiling, I said, “It calls to me too, my love.”  I stepped towards her.  “You know I can’t let you kill all these creatures and people, don’t you Glinda?”  A puzzled expression crossed her face. 

“I love you.  I love you more than you know.  I wish things could be different for us.”  She stood up and looked at me, her mouth opening to speak. I bounded across the room and landed in front of her.  She struck her hands out, her nails clawing my face.

“No one can stop me,” She cried.  Her breath heaved in her chest, her eyes widened in panic.  “Don’t Lionis,” She begged as I grabbed her arms and shoved her towards the magical glass.  “Nooooo! I love you.  I love you, don’t!” The terror in her screams tore me apart. Life ain’t easy, and sometimes you just gotta do what’s right.

Tears burned my eyes as the silver liquid from the glass caught her left arm and started sucking her in.  “I’m sorry, baby.  I’m so sorry. But we’ll be together soon.  We’ll have peace soon, you and I.”  I didn’t know if she heard me or not, it only took seconds for her entire upper body to be pulled into the glass.  Her legs the only thing left to go.  Ruby-clad feet kicked and fought, but to no avail. In no time, my love had been swallowed up to her ankles.  It seemed the mirror hesitated at her feet.  The air around me seemed to compress, as if I were in a void.  Creaking sounds came from everywhere, but nowhere. I couldn’t breathe from the pressure against me, I was being crushed.  A loud pop ended the sensation, as her lovely, delicate feet were pulled from the slippers, the magical shoes cast to the floor before me—indigestible.  The power of the ruby slippers too much for the magic of the mirror. 

She was gone. I was stunned, not believing what I’d done. The sun that shone through the window seemed wrong to me.  It wasn’t a day for sunshine. I knew I would never feel like sunshine again. She was my bright, shiny ray of golden fucking sunshine and I sacrificed her.  I sacrificed her for a world of displaced, convoluted fuck ups.  They are what drove my baby crazy.  I was enraged.  I wanted to hunt every one of them. And I realized, it made me no better than she was. But what was I going to do? I had no place in this new world, a world without her.  Sure, she was sick, but man could she suck my dick. I didn’t even get that final piece of ass. I knelt to the floor. I didn’t know what to do. 

I stroked one of the ruby slippers with my paw.  All that was left of her spirit. Maybe it was the slippers that drove her mad.  I pulled my paw back, afraid of being corrupted by them.  An image of me in the ruby slippers entered my mind.  I was powerful in my vision.  No one could touch me.  I could fuck anyone I wanted, eat anyone I wanted. Who’d stop me?  I started reaching for the slipper again when a corner of white paper behind the glass caught my eye.  I carefully dragged it out from behind the frame, a tuft of Bunny fur and a spot of blood marred the bottom of the paper, but I read:

 

My Dearest Cornelly,
Please do not fret with me gone.  I am happy here, in this place, wherever it is.  There is no pain, my fuzzy Bunniest.  There are carrots and cabbage every day! It’s like spring all year round. All of Bunyburry can live here… beyond the glass, it’s safe.  There are no walls, and no Owls.  I can’t wait until we can be together again. Tell Fizzle I love him.

With always love,

Your devoted

Beyond the glass it’s safe…?

I leaned towards my reflection, the liquid silver bulging out to reach for me.  I pulled back.  “By the Beard, what the fuck am I doing?”

The glass seemed to swirl, like a whirlpool in a Munchkinland wine vat.  When the go-go freak show cleared, I saw a real life picture of a beautiful pasture.  Soft green grass was dotted with a rainbow of colors.  At the top of a hill, I saw two glowing white lights.  Like a strange hairy mushroom trip, the picture closed in on the figures.  My breath hitched, I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I didn’t know what kind of magic the mirror was using on me, but there was my Glinda, as she used to be.  Her smile radiant, her dress clean, she was the perfect creature I fell in love with.  But who was the other?

Her face turned as if she knew I was watching, “Come, Lionis.  You were right.  There is no place for us in that world.  Come, come be with me.  You can be a man if you want to, Lionis.  Whatever you choose, I will love you.  I have always loved you.”  Tears streamed down my face.  I reached for her, for my love. 

She smiled and continued, “Look, Lionis.  Look who is here.”  The view expanded.  “Ozma has been here, waiting for us.”  I stretched my paw a little bit further and pulled back wondering why she would give a shit about Ozma, but then again, it seemed her crazy was gone.

I could be human.  I could be with my love.  I had no place in Oz anymore.  The liquid silver engulfed my hand, it was warm, comforting.  I was terrified.  I tried to pull back, but it wouldn’t release me.  “No going back now, Lionis.”  I smiled, I was going to Heaven. Glinda reached her arms out to me, I surrendered to my fate… The warmth turned to pain, I swore I could feel spikes being driven into my flesh as I passed from my reality into a hellish land.  My soul screamed…laughter came from the mirror, taunting me for being the idiot that I was.  Don’t worry, Lionis.  You will live again, but as the idiot you are…

D:L&L (part 134 - Tin Man) -- Be Still My Beating...

The rain didn’t stop. We waited as long as we could, Serena shivering in the doorway, her face shadowed by the weak glow of lamplight. I tried to comfort her, but my metal hands were cold and hard, and my fingers tangled in her hair. I couldn’t imagine my old lust, the Nick who would have taken this opportunity to ravage and pleasure her in ways that had stopped the hearts of mortal women and Muchkins alike: a thick, raging, vengeful violence I so often and for so long mistook for love.

“We’ll have to go now,” I said finally, although the swollen clouds still sank low over the pulsing green towers. I could no longer see Glinda; she had slipped beyond heavy pink curtains, back into her dry warm boudoir shortly after the clatter of rain and the click of her finely placed curses started falling from the sky.

“We’ve waited too long as it is.”

Serena, who had been dozing crumpled into a dusty corner of the doorway, looked sleepily past me, her eyes raising in the direction of the palace on the hill. “You do realize it’s not real.” Her head fell to one side, resting, her black hair catching against the knotty wooden grain of the wall and glinting dully in the low light. She yawned. “It’s just a spell.” She stretched one leg out and wiggled her toes beyond the shelter of the doorway. Her foot pulled back a moment later, completely dry. She smiled and closed her eyes. “See?”

I stepped into the alley and looked up. Rain continued to fall, convincingly so, but I was completely dry, cool, safe. I glared at the pale shape of her foot in shadow. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

There was a light giggle from the shadow. “I was sleepy, Nick.”

I bit back a stream of curses and helped her to her feet, shoved her into the street. Rain fell in silent, evaporating drops around us, our feet hurrying across dry warm cobblestones. As we wound through the streets toward the palace the clouds glimmered and glowed, burned away. Serena hummed lightly to herself, singing softly as she deftly crossed streets and dipped past alleys, her skimming over stones and gutters in soft silence.

The tik toks were, predictably, waiting for us at the main gate to the palace, so I followed Serena around the western side of the high walls, curving along the glittering walls until Serena found the one chink in the wall she’d had her hand trailing along the wall for – an almost non-existent divot directly across from a gray, gnarled tree that looked disturbingly familiar. As Serena pressed small buttons in the wall with tiny stitched fingers, I glanced up into the upper branches of the tree – no apples.

“Damn, that was one fucked up journey,” I chuckled, shaking my head.

What have you learned, Dorothy?

Serena let out a pleased little yelp and turned toward me, scratching out a low door that suddenly swung forward on noisy hinges flush from the wall. “Success, Nick! I knew I could find it – it’s been years, but folks like us never forget, do we?” She winked at me.

I smiled, watching her slight form disappear into shadow beyond the door. “No,” I whispered. “No, but we must forgive.”

*

I knew the tik toks would be waiting for us but I underestimated how many she would have deployed – it was quite gratuitous, if you ask me. Serena pulled up short as we approached a window of light that grew as we got closer; a dim secret hallway, musty and unused for years it felt, that opened onto a high foyer flickering with enchanted candlelight. My footsteps clattered and echoed – it was practically impossible for me to be sneaky. That’s why I carried a big ax and a bigger attitude.

Both of which I had lost, or left, behind me.

Serena seemed to realize that at the same time. She stared at my empty hands, eyes wide. “Nick, your…”

I waved a hand. “Don’t need it.”

Quickly, in hushed tones and while watching the silent, motionless army of tik toks in the bright foyer, I explained to Serena the tik toks that had helped me along the way, saving me in many ways, their eyes flickering with something as close to emotion as soulless robots controlled by the whim of a madly pink witch could emote. Serena’s face lifted, her eyes moving over the shining silver bodies of the squat machines waiting for us. For me.

“So, you’re telling me that you think some of these little tin boxes actually aren’t empty shells,” Serena repeated, her voice hollow and doubtful. Candlelight lit the deep onyx of her eyes, so very much like button eyes on a doll. I realized for the first time that her eyes were completely black, flat, and very, very sad. “You actually think they will help you.”

“I know they will,” I corrected. The front line of tik toks tittered slightly, their faces turning in one motion toward us. I cocked my head, focusing on the first of them, the closest to us. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I had to feel for them, toward them, send out… something. Positive energy. Emotion, pure and without agenda. I had to let them know that, as one of them and formerly as soulless and focused as they were then, that they could – and should, must – change.

They could live. They could care. They could feel.

I was so focused on silently drawing their attention and beaming as much of myself, my hope and gratitude and forgiveness and love, into the tik toks that I barely noticed when Serena gasped, clutching at me, a slender stitched shaking finger pointing over the heads of the tin men I sought to set free.

“Nick,” she hissed.

I didn’t have to glance up, and I couldn’t have if I did have to – I knew who it was.

You don’t have live like this, under her control, under her thumb, privy to her whims and her violence and her tyranny, I thought, sending the words to them like silver corded steel, looping around them, into them and through them, drawing them in. You can break free and live like me, with me, I’ll take care of you and protect you but let you be your own.

The first of the tik toks, who looked inexplicably familiar among the sea of identical faces and bodies, turned his shining face toward me and, I swear it, smiled. I caught his eye and nodded, my body rigid with fear for the first time since I strolled down that yellow brick road with a straw-stuffed scarecrow, a whimpering cowardly lion and a country girl in a dime store dress.

And her dog – let’s not forget that dog.

Glinda didn’t have to speak – her mind spoke for her. I felt it, but the witch’s will was solely for Serena now, and as I dared to lift my eyes I saw Glinda glaring down, her mouth twisted and ugly, as ugly as an enchanted witch can appear. Her eyebrows lifted, and she raised a palm to her painted lips, kissed her fingertips and offered her palm to Serena.

A kiss.

I looked down and read Serena’s lips as she heard Glinda in her head.

Welcome back, whore. Thank you for bringing him to me. Your job is done. Finish yourself.

“Serena, no,” I said, reaching out but she was gone, moving into the light, her eyes on Glinda’s paper doll pink form on the balcony above us.

The tik toks were upon her in an instant, metal fists raised as they rushed her, surrounding her, and she fell to her knees, her face raised, never once taking her eyes off the woman, the witch, who had once again betrayed her.

It sounded like cloth ripping, soft cotton stretching and moaning as they tore her apart. I watched, white puffs of stuffing and lace, lanks of black hair sifting away as they backed off finally, finished, waiting, turning their faces as one to Glinda on her balcony, watching from her pedestal.

She raised one hand, pointing directly at where I stood silently in shadow. They turned as one, metal scraping against stone, a shift of light and sparkle and gleaming tin.

“Kill him!” She called out, which was completely unnecessary and purely for show.

I stepped forward into the light of the high hall as they moved as one in my direction. “STOP!” I shouted.

The candles flickered, and a pink window in a pane high above Glinda’s head shattered. 

The tik toks kept moving as one. I held my ground, one palm out and up, facing them, an effort to halt her efforts. I shouted again, and another window exploded, shards of pink glass glittering and clinking off the machines impenetrable, shining bodies.

“I was once like you,” my voice boomed through the airy hall. Reaching behind me as they advanced, I felt a table against the wall. With one sweep I knocked off the vase of flowers, which evaporated instantly before hitting the cold marble floor – enchantment. Glamour. Her façade. Without taking my eyes off them I climbed onto the table; not too much more height, but I was above them now – a situation they were used to which I could use.

“I was like you – a machine, a killing machine, operating under a will not my own,” I called out. “Look at me – I am like you. I am made of tin and metal, I am hollow and indestructible. I killed because I was bored and didn’t want to face what made me that way.” They didn’t stop. “Like you, I killed and killed and I did it because of one person, one woman, who told me something a long time ago that I chose to believe. She controlled me, and she knew it. She cherished it above all things, this control, this power, this belief that she was better than me and so she could control me. And I didn’t even realize it.”

Above, high above, Glinda began to laugh.

The tik toks did not stop. My back was against the wall.

“But then I got some help from friends,” I called out, my voice tipping and unraveling now, eyes skipping over the horde of machines inching closer for the faces I recognized, the ones I swore I knew. “Friends that cared about me and took care of me and helped me realize I am not a machine – I am not a monster!”

The sound of their feet scraping across the marble, the cold spark of their advance, filled my head. I was losing my argument, my train of thought, my mind.

“They were some of you!” I shouted over Glinda’s rising laughter. “You, some of you, I know you – I know your faces and I remember you helping me! I know you’re here! And if you helped me then you know that you can feel empathy, and pity, and graciousness, and that’s what this place needs!”

The first several tik toks reached the table. One on my left produced an ax from somewhere and raised it high over his shining metal head.

“You don’t have to live like this!” I shrieked as the table splintered beneath the first blows of his ax. “I know you can feel – if I can you can! You can! You don’t have to live under her rule!”

Three tik toks hung back, their faces turning from me and the rising tide of metal men bent on my destruction to Glinda’s pale amused face, high above them all, her fluttering pink hands and twisted red mouth.

“Own your own soul,” I screamed as the table split in two. I snatched at a metal sconce several feet above me and held on, dangling just above the tik toks’ heads. I raised my face and closed my eyes. “You don’t have to live under anyone else’s rule – you don’t have to obey her! Listen to what’s inside you – I know it’s there, you’ve shown me it’s there! You don’t have to obey her!”

“But sir,” said one tik tok, staring up at me as his brothers extended their arms and tugged at my legs and the sconce broke free from the wall. “We do have to obey her. We love her. She made us. We obey our maker.”

The world went tinny silver, and silent, and dark, and the crunching and slashing and bending of metal ushered me into a blistering spin, and then there was nothing at all.

D:L&L (part 133 - Scarecrow) -- With Friends Like These

So it had all come down to this – and I really shouldn’t have been surprised. Right from the off I was never sure who to trust. Turlo was the first to get me out of my shell, but who the fuck was his boss? Was it the Wizard himself? I never found out. Then Dot came along. Little Dorothy Gale’s granddaughter (or was it great-granddaughter?) arrived on the scene with something she called Toto, only it wasn’t a mewling, smelly piece of four-legged meat but a contraption that killed people with metal things called “bullets”. I think I preferred the dog, in all fairness. But you’re supposed to trust your friends, right?

 Wrong.

At the last hurdle, with a sniff of victory in my grasp, there they were: Tin Man, Lion, and Dot, all in league with The Big Kahuness Herself, Glinda the White Witch. It was a fall from grace that had become atypical. If one of them had produced a vat of Munchkinlander wine there and then, I would have happily quaffed the whole lot and blown my own brains out. But alas, that option was not forthcoming.

“Any last words, fucker?” Dot said, cocking Toto. “You know, I’ve been itching to blow your straw head straight to hell since the moment I clapped eyes on you. Now that it’s blue it makes it all the more worthwhile.” She took a final aim. “Pray to whatever god you believe it. Tell him Dot sent ya.”

The White Witch spoke up. “Now, now, Ms Gale. We’re not in that much of a hurry to reunite the lovers, are we? Let him catch up on old times with the rest of his friends. What say you, Lion?”

“I never had much time for him,” Lion growled. “All I want to do now is eat him. Now that he’s changed back to Fiyero, I can cook up a decent sauce to complement his fine rump.”

This didn’t sound like the Lion I knew. What had she done with him?

The Tin Man poked me with his axe. “If you want to eat him, Lion, then allow me to chop him into bite-sized portions. More of a delicacy that way.”

“Oh don’t go to any trouble on my account,” I said. If I was going to go down, let it be with a smile on my face. Before the smile turned into a grimace of terror, that is.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” Lion said, his voice dripping with menace and a touch of sarcasm. “But I didn’t acquire courage so others could do my dirty work for me. My teeth will do just fine, Nick.”

Glinda breezed over and placed herself between me and the three amigos. “It is fitting,” she said, “for the condemned to enjoy a hearty meal.”

“I was hoping he’d enjoy being one,” Lion retorted.

“The time for fun is later,” Glinda continued. “Let poor Scarecrow – sorry, Fiyero cling on to life a little bit longer.” She waved her wand and brought about a change of scenery. We were no longer at the palace door but in a banquet hall. Instead of waiters we had Tik-Toks. Instead of all the trappings of a feast, we had bones for knives and spoons. For food we had what delicacies each province of Oz could provide. Meat, cheeses, fruits, sweetbreads…and crow.

“That’s your seat there.” Glinda pointed to a spot in front of which was the biggest plate of burnt bird it had ever been my pleasure to witness. “I took the pleasure of baking them myself,” she said gleefully. “I do hope you like them.”

In the centre of the table was a large serving dish, deep enough to hold a body. I looked into it and cried out with despair. The dish held the charred green body of my beloved Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. I convulsed and I felt that nothing could stop my agony but my own death.

“Oh yes,” said Glinda. “Dessert.” She grabbed a bone and raised it over her head. “Who’s first to tuck in?”

The bitch was well and truly insane.

Dot, Tin Man and Lion crowded around me and pushed me over to my spot. Lion put a napkin around my neck and handed me a piece of crow. Dot rapped her Toto on the table, chanting, “Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.” Tin Man banged his axe off the floor in unison. Glinda just clapped.

I threw the bird back on the table and stood up, the bile in my throat rising with my courage. “Give me my sword, Glinda,” I said stubbornly. “If I’m to die, at least allow me the dignity to die fighting.”

“We will allow you nothing!” Lion screamed, his own mouth glistening with green flesh.

There was a crash from behind.

“Oh you won’t, huh?” Before I could even turn around, the Lion was ejected from his chair and he ended up in a heap under the far window. “I don’t think I can let that happen, sweet sister.”

Elphaba – well, I think it was her – filled the doorway with her presence. And behind her, a small crew of flying monkeys seemed ready to do battle.

“You think closing off all the exits was enough to keep me at bay, dear Glinda? You mock me.” Her gaze was so powerful, so full of imminent destruction, that even I had to look away.

No thinking – this was Elphaba.

“How could I kill my only friend?” Glinda responded. “It is not my responsibility.” She pointed to my two remaining former friends. “It is theirs.” With that, Tin Man and Dot jumped from their chairs and made for Elphaba. I knew they were done for even before they did.  Elphaba unleashed more green fury from her arsenal of magic and eviscerated the pair before they could get within five feet of her.

“Mere phantoms,” she said, hardly breaking a sweat. She turned her gaze to me. “Glinda’s creations,” she explained. “Dead Ozians given a makeover and a little shot of something to put a spring in their step. A few more minutes and their limited lifespan would have expired. But for what purpose, Glinda? Why not just kill us?”

Glinda put her hands on her hip. “I like to play.” With that, she released her own fury; the result of which sent Elphaba flying out the door and crashing into the monkeys behind her. I looked around for my sword, hoping that one of them had brought it in with them. If any bitch needed a slapping, it was this one. I spotted it buried under fake-Lion’s prone body. Faux or not, I hoped he was either dead or at least out for the count. I was going to need my sword. I leapt up and dashed over to where Lion lay. Lucky for me he didn’t budge an inch when I recovered Bitchslapper. Unlucky for me, Glinda didn’t take kindly to my freshly-acquired weapon. She launched a spell at me. I waved my sword in front of me, hoping for some sort of protection. The spell bounced off the blade and rebounded straight back to the White Witch. She herself bounced off the wall behind her and fell flat on her face. A monkey landed on her back and began pulling her hair.

“Get the fuck off me!” Glinda screamed. But the monkey was enjoying itself so much it called over to its pals, who joined in on the hair-pulling fun. This distraction allowed Elphaba to recover and to come storming back in to the banqueting hall. She threw another fist of green energy at her opponent. The monkeys made it away just in time to see Glinda try to get up, but only end up plastered against another wall. Elphaba moved closer, throwing spell after spell against her bitter enemy.

So what was I doing while all this was going on? Decapitating as many Tik-Toks as came my way. It was obvious to me whose side they were on. They carried little knives in their hands and were stabbing at me whenever they had the chance. Bitchslapper made short work of them, though. In the space of mere minutes, metal limbs and heads decorated the hall floor; while around me the smell of magic grew ever stronger. It was might versus might. Witch versus Bitch.

And my Elphaba appeared to have the upper hand.

Appeared being the operative word, that is.

The body of fake-Lion stood up from where it had lain, but instead of rushing in to fight by his Mistress’s side, it grew to three times its size and fury. It unleashed a vengeance upon Elphaba that knocked my beloved to the floor. It took advantage of this respite by grabbing Glinda, locking its arms around her, then vanishing into the ether, taking the White Witch with it.

We had lost our only advantage. What the hell had happened, I did not know. I hurried over to Elphaba’s side and helped her up.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “I had her,” she muttered. “I fucking had her. But that thing got in the way.”

“Are you sure he’s not the real deal?”

“Oh he’s a creation all right. Only a simulacrum can change its size. I’ve not seen one of them for a long, long time.” She shook her head one more time. “I nearly had her, Fiyero.” Only this time there was no anger in her words, only despair. Where we went from here was anyone’s guess. I took Elphaba in my arms and carried her away from the hall and back outside the palace. We would have to come up with a new plan, a fresh way to stop Glinda from wreaking more havoc upon Oz. If we didn’t, we were fucked.

Not that we got much of a chance, mind you. It would have been too easy for Glinda to just leave us alone, to leave us wallow in our misery. Oh no, she had her own plans all right. At the back of the hall a large mirror appeared; not the kind you could see your own reflection, though, more the kind that projected your image. Glinda took centre stage once more.

“Here’s a recording I made earlier,” her image said. “On the off-chance I’m not standing over your dead bodies, cackling like a green witch, I have taken the liberty of creating a fail-safe, just to be sure.”

As soon as she said these words the room became almost claustrophobic, as if all the air was being sucked out of it…

…which was precisely what was happening.   The room filled with a sudden roar, as if we were inside a tornado, one of those whirling death winds that flung houses to far away lands.  That’s when I realized that I couldn’t breathe – hell of a time to no longer be made of straw!

“Run!” screamed my lover, and Elphaba and I raced to the door, but found it shut tight in our faces. We banged and pulled on it, but it wouldn’t budge.  I stepped back, beckoning Elphaba to give me room, and let Bitchslapper do its work – but it clanged off of the door as if I was striking stone, the vibrations so painful that I dropped the gleaming blade with a yelp and grabbed my wrists in agony.  Not wasting a moment, my love moved me aside and swung her arms, throwing words at the door that I’d never heard before.  If brute force wouldn’t work, deep magic would.  But nothing happened; the door resisted each effort.  It was as if it was protected by a force that not even Elphaba’s ancient magic could penetrate. She tried again and again, but try as she might she could not break through the magicked door, and instead she was left panting, gasping for the very air that was seeping out of the room while I massaged by numb arms and shoulders.   I looked left and right, trying to stay calm, searching for a way out, but there were no other exit or entry points in the banqueting hall.  They were there before, I thought, or were they?  Another illusion?  Was everything an illusion?

Glinda’s image continued to prattle on regardless (or maybe regardful) of our current situation.  “In less time than it takes to skin a cat, the banqueting hall will be as a vacuum. You will each suffer a painful death, struggling to the last for every breath. You have no chance of life, my former friends.” She laughed once more. “I would enjoy watching you die, but I have other matters to attend to. Have a nice death, Fiyero. You too, Elphaba. Parting is such sweet delirium, don’t you think?”

Then she was gone for perhaps the final time. It was just like the White Witch to have one more trick up her silken sleeve. I looked despairingly at my beloved. I saw no hope in her eyes, only disbelief and sadness.

“The slippers,” she said, slumping into my arms as we sagged against the closed doorway.  “If only she didn’t have those slippers.”

I nodded, a meaningless effort now.  What had looked like a sure victory was gone.  We were going to die in an airless room under the heel of those slippers, and that would finally be that. All we had was each other now; I hugged my beloved to me, but sadly, even that was no comfort – I could barely feel her at all.

D:L&L (part 132 - Dot) -- The Pink and the Dead

When I'd first heard the Oz stories from Grandma, I thought they were the most wonderful stories ever.  What little girl wouldn't?  It wasn't until I was a teenager and boys and riding horses and shooting guns had become the priorities in my life that I began to think that she was batty.  The Emerald City had always seemed like a magical, beautiful, gleaming place, a place that must have been polished from spire to cobblestone everyday by troops of brightly colored, completely joyous men and women drawn about in gilded carriages by these horses of a different color than I'd fallen in love with - so much so that I'd demanded for years that Papa buy some such horse because ours were all one color, or maybe two, and they certainly didn't change.  And if not, then I would ask to go visit Grandma, even though she was frighteningly old and sometimes scared me a little and smelled like old shoes.  At least then I would get to see the horses that changed color, hear the Lion roar, and smell the buttercuppery breezes that blew in from the golden fields around the EC.

All that was gone now, as was Toto's bark (not to mention his bite).  Down below, the EC sparkled with its normal green glare, but the shine was less polished, somewhat dingy despite the warm sun bathing it in morning light.  There were no colorful horses prancing about with cleaning crews and happy contingents of city servants; instead I could see waves of silvery men like mechanical ants moving around the palace in formation, setting up a perimeter, albeit not in fashion our platoon sergeant would have appreciated.  As for the smell - let's go with dried pit sweat, musty old rags and, well, dingleberries?  Let's just say these fucking Monkey bats smelled like warmed-over shit.

They'd made short work of our raggedy band of nobodies.  That was a simple as I could put it and as honest.  The Weasel?  Dead.  Picked up, still rhyming, dropped.  Ordinal?  Probably dead.  Ran away, saying he would draw some of them off.  Picked up, legs still kicking, dropped - I didn't see where because he, to his credit, did get some distance, dodging and ducking and hurdling fences and gates as if he'd trained for it all his life before they caught him and dropped him hard and fast somewhere I would probably never see.  Cobb?  His little shovel was bright red with blood last time I saw him, and there were Monkey bat heads littering the coal car.  I didn't know if they would burn as well as coal, but I'm sure he will try it if he survives.  I could hear his voice for some time, screaming for Smalls to hurry up and help, and then he was out of earshot.  And as for the Lion?  Coward through and through.  He slinked, slunked, slunk, slipped away - however you say that.  He bitched out.  No fucking King of the Forest, that one.  One big pussy.  There was no other way to call it.  Grandma would have been upset.  She had had some nice things to say about him.

That left me, now airborne between two Monkey bats, Turlo up ahead, leading the way, his nasty little monkey ass turned towards me, tail in the air, reminding me of those Animal Planet episodes with the baboons with the bright red butts that you hate to see but can't stop watching.  Toto was holstered; couldn't lose him even if there were no more barks left in him.  I'd dropped more of the Flying Oz Taliban that I could count, running from cover to cover, head on a swivel, Toto barking proudly, that smirk on my face as I squinted and squeezed and tried to protect myself and my team.  And then click, and then a sigh, and then a quick look around for something to use as a weapon, a squawk of some type and a pair of strong hands under each of my arms.

Up, up and away.  Time to visit the one person I'd yet to meet here in Oz, the one person that seemed to be the origin of this crisis.  The one person who could call up a storm and whisk away an entire person - the Scarecrow, who never came back.  The one person who could usurp an emperor.  The one person who could call up a purple fog that turns cute little people into craven, hungry monsters bent for flesh.  The one person who could corrupt an old hero and turn his ax against anyone she wanted.  The one person with an angry smirk, a violently pink dress that hid all but a bit of a pair of gorgeous, gleaming Ruby slippers, and who walked out onto the parapet of the palace's highest tower just as Turlo and his henchmen landed and slammed me to the hard stone.

I felt my teeth rattle in my head, tasted blood and saw nothing but bright light for a moment.  Then I heard something that sounded vaguely familiar and utterly wrong and told me that this was, in fact, the end of my little journey to Oz.  I'd done everything I could, and nothing had mattered.  It was over, and I was so dazed that I couldn't even look up at her and spout out anything vile or rebellious when I heard her sickly sweet voice and knew just how naive Grandma had been.

"Oh, dear, what have we here?  Another someone trying to drop a house on us?"  A slender Ruby Slipper came into fuzzy view and pressed my cheek into the hard rock underneath.  I groaned from the pain, felt bile in my throat and tried not to cough or vomit.  "Not today.  You aren't a good witch or a bad witch.  You, my pretty, are nothing at all.  And in a moment you will be less than nothing.  I just wanted a look at you.  And your little dog, Toto, too.  Now, fly away, my dear.  Fly, fly away, while I sort out the rest of your foolish friends and end this once and for all."

A moment later I was jerked up and back.  I vomited as they drug me to the edge of the parapet, catching the barest glimpse of the golden tresses and tiara, and suddenly there was the blue sky above and I was falling, falling, falling.

D:L&L (part 131 - Narrator) -- All the Glitters...

"And so, this is it," she muttered and turned away from the window.

Down below, the whole city spread out before her - a window to the East, to the West, to the South, and to the North - each of them giving her a way to look out upon the EC and see the sparkling green, the tiny figures like ants on the ground moving about their little lives.  The air shimmered for a moment when she glanced back to the eastern window, little more than a slit in the tower wall through which blue skies crawled on forever.

"Show me the train station," she said.  The air glimmered and shook and color swirled into form until she could see the figures running about the train yard, tiny creatures swooping down on them from above, bat wings flapping.  They swooped and scratched, cackling like madmen, trying to catch a wrist or an ankle, then climbed back on the updrafts around the city walls,looking back and flinging dark handfuls of filth.  "Nasty little creatures, these winged monkeys, but useful in a pinch and so willing to trade off one magical bitch for another."  Glinda sneered.  The monkeys would keep them occupied and eventually grab them all, dragging them up into the sky and dropping them, one by one.  She's already witnessed the Weasel, caught by his baggy pants, fall to his death.  His body was bent backwards over a railing outside the ticket booth.

She flicked her wrist and the image disappeared.  "Soon they'll all follow him, even that little resourceful wisp of a girl from Kansas with her nasty little Toto.  It can't bark all night, my dear.  Sooner or later, your little dog will go hoarse as you grow tired, but my monkeys, well, that's another story entirely."

"Everyone except him.  Kill them all, but not him.  Bring him to me."

Glinda turned and winked at the man standing across from her, then scooped up a glass of Munchkinlander wine, draining it quickly.  She wiped the back of her hand and let out a long, loud burp.  "Not very lady-like, I suppose," she said, chortling, "but then again, whoever said I was a lady?"  She giggled again, thinking back  to some of her most recent escapades since the Lion turned on her - what a bastard he'd been!  What a fraidy cat!  She eyed the man against the wall, the former Captain of her Secret Service, remembering how brutal he'd been at a Captain, then how desperate he'd been as a lover, trying to hard to satisfy his mistress with his tiny, um, wand, and ultimately failing.  She stared at him, sizing him up - for such a large man, she'd expected a larger...  "But all that glitters is not gold, so they say."

Grabbing the bottle of wine, she stomped across the floor, the Ruby Slippers click-clacking across the stones as she staggered forward.  "Isn't that right, Captain?  Isn't it?"  She giggled and pressed the bottle to his lips, but he didn't move to open his mouth or swallow, nor did he protest or push her away.  He stood stock still, his purple eyes staring back at her blankly.

"Isn't it, Captain?"  A hint of anger at his lack of response.  She raised the bottle to her lips, stumbled and fell into him, crashing against his cold, hard body, the bottle of wine crashing to the floor.  Reaching up to steady herself, she grabbed his collar for support and it tore.  Down she went, the cloth of his tunic ripping easily in her hand, his broad orange chest  now exposed to the waist.  She stared up at it, at the grandeur of his power, his strength.  She'd hoped that he would have the audacity, the boldness of the Lion, the sheer will of personality in private as he had in public.  She wanted him to step forward and overpower her, to put her down and ride her hard until she begged and pleaded.  But he had been weak at heart, no soul, no pent up anger or frustration, no rage.  He was not the one she needed to help keep things balanced.  He'd been feeble at heart, weak and afraid, a man willing to do whatever she wanted and unable to take charge and turn the tables on her, to take his punishment and then give in kind.

Gone were the days of claw marks across her backside.  Gone was the snarl that had set her loins on fire, fear leaping into her heart because she knew that if he, her Lion, had desired, he could have kill her with one bite, and she would have been powerless to stop him.  She looked up from her knees, her pink dress stained with the wine, at the orange man before her, stock still - rock solid she had joked earlier when she'd cast the stoning spell and killed him mid-sentence.  He couldn't replace what she had lost, and he had been just as devious and dangerous as she - only he was afraid of her like the Lion hadn't been.  And in the end, that fear had shown through - his eyes still screamed, frozen forever in a look of terror now that he was solid stone, a memorial to the weak and pathetic.

Somewhere down below, east of the palace, was what she wanted - a creature the nasty little monkeys wouldn't touch, couldn't handle - a roaring King of Beasts rivaled by none and loved by none other than herself.  And once this, the final battle, was over and the fools who pitted themselves against her were trampled under her Ruby Slippers, then perhaps she could once again be united with the one creature in Oz that she felt was her equal - not a handsome prince from a fairy tale but a king in his own right.  "All that glitters," she mumbled and climbed to her feet in search of another bottle.

D:L&L (part 130 - Lion) -- Fraidy Cat

I knew that damn Monkey-bat had something up his sleeve. As soon as the train stopped, a hoard of the beasts began to descend upon us. The beating of their wings was a drum, it was wild, and had a rhythm. Up, down, up down, shifting the air around us. Dot jumped out of the coal car, her black, metallic weapon in front of her. I reached a paw out to stop her, but women are stubborn creatures. She pulled from my grasp and stood on the platform banging her banger into the sky. A couple of the creatures fell from flight, landing on the roof of the train car with a thunk. As for me? I slipped out under the cacophony of flapping wings and banging bang things called Toto. Who was stupid enough to try to fight a losing battle other than stubborn women? And that is exactly what was transpiring—a losing battle. Never trust a Monkey-bat, I always said.

I managed to simply slink away from the fight. The sun was going to be in full bloom, so I knew I needed to get away while I still had a chance to. Before anyone saw me. I glanced back over my shoulder at the silhouettes of the battle. A lost cause, I thought to myself. I heard Dot cry out in frustration, she was wiping her Toto on her slacks. There’s not much defense against flying flying-Monkey poo.

I don’t know why I even cared. It wasn’t my problem. Oz wasn’t my problem; Dot wasn’t my problem either. I didn’t ask for her to come here. I didn’t send an invitation for her to come to the party. Dot wasn’t my problem. She made it clear as finely distilled vodka that she was able to take care of herself.  My only problem was Glinda. So I was working my way back to her place.

The streets were oddly deserted. I guessed the tik-toks were all called back to Her. But I wasn’t taking any chances, surely there had to have been some patrols left. I moved quickly, and even thought about moving over the rooftops; but surely those Monkey-bats would be flying overhead any moment with whatever was left of my friends.  My friends I abandoned. But it was for the good in the long run.  If they survived, I might be able to bust them out of the prison.  Surely Gilly could pick the locks again. Poor Gilly… he was so small. I hoped he was hiding, too.  Yo, yo.

The fissure in my mind began to crack again. This is no time to lose it, stupid! I backed against a green brick wall and closed my eyes.  I needed to keep focused, I had a goal. I had to get back to her. My goddess, my…love. I could envision her, a lovely vision in…pink. I said a little prayer for her, took a deep breath, and opened my eyes. 

Above, the flapping of wings sounded, a black cloud blocking out the first rays of the rising sun. Thunder boomed, lightning flashed, and the sky broke open. Rain blanketed down, soaking my fur, adding to my misery. Who’d have thought a flock of crows could control the weather? I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, after all, they were no ordinary crows. The poo had been flung, literally and figuratively.  I had avoided most of the shit storm, but I knew my time was coming.  I had to get to her.  To save her from herself. 

“I’m coming, my love,” I mumbled.  I wondered in that moment if she had heard me. A feeling of warmth came over me, and I felt stronger.  She needed me.  My cock stiffened at the thought. I could save her. I was the only one who could.

I bounded onto the street, not caring who might see me.  Tik-toks—fuck em’. Those little fuckers couldn’t keep up with me. Money-bats—fuck em’. I was hungry anyways, and while Monkey isn’t one of my favorites, I’d make due with a few of them.  I was the Lion, the bad-assed mother fucker of Oz.

The green glow of her palace shone through the sheets of rain, a beacon of light, a haven of horror. I was ready.  I kicked up some speed, adrenaline pumping through me.  I was almost there.  She’d welcome me, I knew.  She loved me, I knew.

Then I came to a complete stop. What the fuck? I thought, as I gazed at the million-mile-high garden blocking my way. I never knew my dirty girl had a green thumb. And just like everything about her, these plants were thorny.  I’m talking stab a mother fucker and kill him, kind of like the bird impaled on one that was in front of me. Its ichor oozed, blending with the rain water. I carefully plucked the feathered fiend from the thorn and popped him in my mouth. It tasted bitter; the feathers dry on my tongue.  I spit it out. I lapped at the falling rain to wash away the foul funk. A feather was stuck in my choppers. Just great, I was going to have rotten crow breath when I kissed her again.  I dug one of my claws between my teeth but couldn’t dislodge the damn thing. I roared in frustration.

You came back for me.  Her voice permeated the air around me. “Of course I did,” I said, and suddenly I remember - was it her who put the thought in my head? - our special door, my secret entrance, the one I'd used dozens of times, when she'd called, when I'd needed her angry hiss and her soft mewling.  You know how to find me.  I did.  I remembered, as if it was a long forgotten thought.  I was drawn to it, so grinning I beat feet away from those nasty green hedges to the secret place that led me to the one I craved…