My old whiskered swab brought me to a nauseatingly vibrant village where I was greeted by a bunch of no good, pint sized pygmys who called themselves Munchkins. I grabbed one, took a bite out of its fleshy arm, and discovered that they didn’t taste half as good as their famed doughnut counterparts. “Who killed my sister, who killed the Witch of the East?
A shimmer from my sisters ruby slippers caught my eye. I glided over to the remnants of the house to see her mangled legs were only discernible thanks to her magical moccasins. Where did sis find these hideously ugly shoes? My entire wardrobe consists of black cloaks and dresses, so I doubt I’d ever be able to coordinate a full ensemble with these putrid looking things, but damn are they powerful! In this case I could easily forgo the fashion faux pas. I wouldn’t want them falling onto the wrong feet, so I crouched down to retrieve the crimson clogs, BUT WAIT…THEY DISAPPEARED! Great Caesar’s Ghost! How could this happen?
My head jerked back to see a young girl holding a mongrel, prancing around like a solid gold dancer who just got new shoes at Buster Browns. She was wearing the ruby slippers! My face turned brown with anger, you see, it turned brown because obviously my face is green and mixed with the red from the anger I turned brown. You get the picture right? The warts on my face nearly exploded puss everywhere (from the anger).
The strong scent of Bath & Body Works Fresh Linen soared up my enormously large nostrils. I knew that meant it was my old arch enemy, Glinda The Good Witch, the undying thorn in my side. What an ostentatious entrance. Glinda was nice enough to remind me to be cautious or someone might drop a house on me. Little did I know that if I only trademarked the words that were about to slither out of my mouth I wouldn’t still be paying the steep mortgage payments on my castle in Winkie country. “I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!” Somewhere the Demon himself, Gene Simmons, is cringing at the immeasurable loss of yearly income.
I scoped out the sky for any rogue flying houses, then did the vroom vroom on the broom broom. I planned to pounce on the wretched trollop Dorothy’s plan to see the stupid fraud Wizard of Oz. Wouldn’t it be funny if they arrived in OZ and they were closed like when the Griswold’s went to Wally World? I was sure a field of pre-poisoned poppy flowers would subdue them. In a slick move, those misfits slipped Dorothy a Vivarin to make sure she was alert. Once they made it to my haunted forest, a squadron of my flying monkeys hoisted them back to my lair. Remind me to give them a raise since they did such a bang up job on this project.
Back in my chamber I tried to take the ruby slippers off of Dorothy’s feet, but I was electrocuted! There must be some kickass security system on those things. As a last resort, threatening to murder a little girls dog is always the way to go in a dire situation. I dare you to try and capture that mangy mutt, it’s damn near impossible! Toto ran off and lead the rest of Dorothy’s crew right to her and then shit was about to go down! Scarecrow tried to mess with me so I set his arm on fire.
Dorothy threw water at Scarecrow to put out the fire, but it hit me instead! At first I figured, hey it’s only water, right? Until I started to melt. I mean literally melt like Velveeta on nachos in the microwave, except nowhere near as tasty. Come to think of it, I looked more like guacamole. What’s amazing about how this whole thing turned out is that I was lucky enough to escape any trace of water in my life previous to that moment. Raindrops never fell on my head (cause I wear a hat), I guess I’ve always stepped around puddles as not to get my feet wet, was never pelted with a super soaker, or hit with a water balloon. Swimming was a no go, I don’t have sweat glands, and I’ve obviously never brushed my teeth or took a shower because I was that f-cking wicked.