“Yeah, I dropped my house on your sister and took her shoes. They weren’t really her color. Clashed with that Goth crap she wore. Those black and white striped knee-high socks went out of style faster than the boot scoot boogie.”
“I want her shoes.”
“So what. I want a new hairdo, big tits, a boy toy and an apartment in Manhattan. I wouldn’t dream of going back to Kansas.”
“We can work something out. I’ll hook you up with Maurice, my hairdresser, and make an appointment for you with Dr. Frank Morgan, my plastic surgeon. He’s the best breast man in the country. I have a condo on the Upper East Side. I’ll sublet it to you for a dollar a year. Give me my sister’s shoes.”
“Keep your socks on, sweetheart. What about my boy toy.”
“Little girl, you have all the boy toys you need. The scarecrow never gets tired. The lion is the KING of the jungle, with capital K, capital I, capital N, and capital G. Don’t forget the tinman. They call him a woodsman for a reason and it’s not because he chops down trees. I’m here to tell you, he can work magic with that oilcan.”
I looked at my three companions and the lion leered at me. They didn’t seem the same. The lion look more confident, the scarecrow looked wiser, and his offset eyes gave him a look of mystery and danger. The tinman shone brighter. I took the keys to the condo and handed them to the scarecrow. “I’ll see the three of you at home in a little while. Have the champagne cold.”
The witch said, “My shoes. Give me the shoes.”
I smiled and clicked my heels together three times. Four bottles of the finest French mineral water appeared above the witch and emptied themselves over her head. She screamed and melted into a small oily puddle. I smiled to myself, greedy witches are so easy.
The castle guards stared at me in silence. “Clean this up and for heaven’s sake and let the monkeys outside. I can’t believe they aren’t housebroken.” One of the first lessons the scarecrow taught me was never stand under a flying monkey.
I clicked my heels together and appeared in my condo. The scarecrow handed me a glass of chilled champagne and the lion said, “Your bath is ready.”
I inhaled the warm scent of the lion’s mane. I put one arm around the scarecrow and the other around the tinman. There’s no place like home.
# # #
Robert Allen Lupton is retired and lives in New Mexico where he is a commercial hot air balloon pilot. Robert runs and writes every day, but not necessarily in that order. More than fifty of his short stories have been published in several anthologies and online. His novel, Foxborn, was published in April 2017 and the sequel, Dragonborn, in June 2018. His collection of running themed horror, science fiction, and adventure stories, Running Into Trouble, was published in October 2017. His annotated edition of John Monro’s 1897 novel, A Trip To Venus, was released in September 2018.
Photo: Timothy Dykes
