Abducted to Oz - Bob Evans and Chris Dulabone
"But what if the Witch has enchanted the Wizard and Glinda, too!"
bellowed the Lion, tears running down his face. "What if she's made
them all into little candy corns or tea bags or Jell-O Jigglers or
something?"
The Tiger's stomach roared at the sound of these food words. "Pull
yourself together and stop talking about food!" he said. "We can't go
losing our heads over things that we don't know for sure. Maybe the
whole Witch-thing simply slipped Ozma's mind."
The Cowardly Lion looked at his chum in a reproachful manner. "Tige," he
said, "do you really believe that our beloved Queen is so absent-minded?
I think we owe her a bit more respect than that. We all saw that
repulsive old woman. You saw her, too, Tige! And that th-th-threat! You
heard it, t-t-too! No, our Ozma would c-c-certainly have done something
to stop that Wicked old W-w-witch by now! And so would Glinda! And the
W-w-wizard, too! None of them would have forgotten about all of that!
Let alone all th-th-three of th-th-them! No, I can feel it in my bones.
She's done something dreadful to them all. They are enchanted or cursed
or destroyed or--"
"Are you trying to scare yourself?" said the Tiger.
"I d-d-don't have to try!" wailed the Lion.
"Can't we go to your Emerald City to find out?" asked Graham, who felt
that all this talk was doing nothing for anyone. "We have to go there.
It's the only way to find out for sure."
"Our young friend has a good head for logic," said the Tiger. "Let's
hurry and get to the Emerald City."
The two jungle-cats could move almost as swiftly as the wind. Graham, of
course, could not possibly have hoped to keep pace with them had he had
to walk on his own. But fortunately, the beasts were willing to allow
Graham and Telly to ride upon their backs. This made the journey go much
more quickly.
In only a couple of days, the green of the city was in sight. In short
order, they got to the front gates which led into this amazing and
phenomenally beautiful capital of Oz. Graham could not conceal his awe
at the sight of the place.
"Home again," said the Hungry Tiger.
"Now we get to go in and see what poor Ozma and the Wizard have been
t-t-turned into!" sighed the Cowardly Lion.
Imby Amby, the Guardian of the Gates, met the trio with a smile of
greeting. "Hello!" he said cheerfully.
"Imby," retorted the Tiger, "will you kindly tell my dear boy here that
our Queen has not been transformed into a gelatin mold?"
"I should hope not!" replied the Guardian. "Last time I saw her, she was
playing checkers with Betsy Bobbin. Seemed to be winning, too."
The Tiger smiled knowingly, then nudged the Lion in a friendly way.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go see our Queen. She will certainly set
things right straightaway."
The trio hurried into the palace and quickly located the young ruler.
She was gaily sipping a cup of herbal tea and having a lively
conversation with the Scarecrow and the Patchwork Girl. As soon as she
saw her two old friends with the strangers, she stopped in mid-sentence.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "You look upset about something."
The Hungry Tiger bowed low before the little girl. "Your Majesty, this
young man, Graham, has come from America and has escaped the clutches of
a very wicked Witch. Surely you remember the parade and the horrible
threat that this Witch spoke!"
"Surely," replied Ozma. The Patchwork Girl impulsively did five
handsprings and landed on the Tiger's broad back, where she proceeded to
recite the following in a sing-song voice:
"_The Wicked Witch was bad, indeed!
Her evil soul was full of greed!
To show her powers she did try,
and on her broomstick she did fly!
She tried to capture everyone;
she thought that it would be such fun!
But clever Ozma and the Wiz
would never let her do this biz!
A wholesome spell has now been cast,
so that old Witch's time is past.
The good old Wizard cast a spell
that changed the Witch into a bell!
She now can make a bathtub ring,
but cannot do another thing!_"
Ozma smiled sweetly. "What Scraps is telling you, in her own spirited
way, is that your Witch was already dealt with a day or two ago. I saw
what she had done in my Magic Picture, and I had the wonderful Wizard of
Oz take care of it in his unique manner. He transformed the Witch into a
cow-bell. She will remain in that form until such time as she has a
change of heart. When she becomes truly repentant and is willing to
become a law-abiding citizen of Oz, she will magically become a silver
Christmas bell instead of the old cow-bell. At that point, we will
restore her to her human form and allow her to live a brand new life as
a new and changed individual."
"A cow-bell," echoed the Lion, all trace of fear having suddenly
vanished from his heart. "How interesting! I remember a time years ago
when the Wizard did a similar trick with some troublesome Imps. He made
them into buttons which would change color when they repented."
"Yes," said Ozma. "As for you, friend Telly, I am sure you will become
fast friends with the Tin Woodman and Tik-Tok. The two of them are
upstairs right now, admiring their similarities and differences. Would
you like to have me summon them?"
"Oh, please do!" put in the Scarecrow. "I'd love to see Graham's metal
friend meet them. If his heart is as pure as that of my dear friend Nick
Chopper's, I know that he will be a very good and wholesome person."
They all agreed and, within minutes, the two metal men stepped into the
room. Nick Chopper, the famous Tin Woodman of Oz, had been recently
polished, and so was feeling especially bright and chipper. Tik-Tok,
who was a clockwork man made out of copper, was always very bright--so
long as his clockwork was kept wound up. Telly seemed to be very happy
in the company of these new friends.
[Illustration]
"I think that it's time to organize a big celebration to commemorate the
overthrow of the Wicked Witch and to honor our new friends!" suggested
the Patchwork Girl.
"A grand idea!" agreed the Scarecrow.
"And I'd like to hold it in the cabin that Tattypoo made for us near her
mountain retreat!" interjected the Patchwork Girl.
"Indeed!" agreed the Scarecrow. "There is plenty of land there. We could
have games like potato-sack races and a big parade and a band or two,
and...."
"It sounds great!" said Scraps, leaping up, grabbing a chandelier and
swinging from it while bursting into song:
"_A party is the thing to do
whenever something pleases you!
I'm awful glad the Witch is belled,
for lots of troubles she'd have spelled!
And I am glad to meet young Graham,
I hope he won't think I'm a ham!
And Telly is a funny man!
I hope he'll be there if he can!
A lovely time we all will spend!
We will not want it e'er to end_!"
She sang in her most dignified manner. Of course, Scraps and dignity are
about as compatible as oil and water, but her words were certainly
fitting to the occasion.
The celebration was a great success. Celebrities from all over Oz were
there. Even the former Good Witch of the North put in an appearance. It
was a celebration of nearly the magnitude of that which had caused the
arrival of the Wicked Witch in the first place, except that there were
no large floats. There had been no time for the Oz folk to construct
any. Besides, it seemed to everyone involved that they would not be
especially apropos under the circumstances.
When the festivities were over, Ozma approached Graham. "Well," she said
in her youthful but queenly voice, "have you enjoyed your little trip to
Oz?"
"Oh, yes!" replied the boy. "And I'm so glad to have met you. Wait until
I tell my little brother about all of this! He'll be so surprised!"
"Graham," replied Ozma, "you can't tell your little brother about any of
the things you've seen here. Even about meeting Dorothy or the
Scarecrow."
"But ..." began the boy.
"Graham," she continued, "Oz is a place that would be very interesting
to some of the people back in America. So long as they know of Oz as
only a fantasy, they will not come to look for us. But our continent and
its surrounding regions are very big. Our territory makes your mortal
continents look like Rhode Island. Because some mortals do not have your
values, and think of no one but themselves or their bank accounts, they
would begin to seriously search out our continent. As it comprises so
much land, they might eventually break through our magical barriers and
invisibility spells--even the spell that diverts them off course
whenever they try to reach us. These barriers have been crossed by
accident in the past, as you know. If a wicked mortal were trying to do
it intentionally, he might find a way."
"But no one has ever done it before," said Graham. "And my brother would
so love to hear about Oz. He'd never do anything bad. I promise."
"I am not doubting the righteousness of your brother. But secrets get
out, and people pass them along. I know this is true. I cannot allow you
to tell anyone back home about Oz being a real place. I want it to be
considered only a silly fairy tale for children. This is our greatest
protection."
"I understand," said Graham. "I won't tell him about it."
"But you have proven yourself by your love for Telly," said the Queen.
"You can stay and live in Oz forever. You will be a citizen here, where
you will never have to grow old. You will never again know sickness, and
you will never have to die."
Graham was taken aback by the offer. "You mean it?" he said. "I can stay
here and be with Telly and the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger
forever?"
"You can."
Graham still seemed overwhelmed. "That would be super," he said. "But...
My family! I love my family. Can't you bring them here to live as well?"
"No," Ozma said solemnly. "That is not possible. You are invited only
because you have proven your value. Even the Shaggy Man had to prove his
worth before staying on in Oz. Your family has not proven itself worthy.
You alone may stay in Oz."
"Then I want to go home right now," said Graham. "I can't leave them."
"I thought you'd say that," sighed Ozma. "But you already know too much.
I can't send you back there. It isn't that I don't trust you. But I fear
that someday you may let the secret slip. Maybe you'd talk in your
sleep. Maybe you'd grow older and be taken in by the terrible drugs and
alcohol which are so common in the mortal lands. These might make you
say things that you'd normally never say. I'm sure it could never happen
to a boy like you, but what if... I'm sorry, Graham. You must stay here.
I have already arranged for you to have a lovely mansion not far from
here. Or you can stay with Telly or whomever you please. You can take
any apartments you might desire in the palace if you prefer. In fact,
you are free to roam as you please. I don't want to have you think of
yourself as a prisoner. I know it will seem that way at first. But I
promise you that the benefits of living in Oz will soon drive those
ideas from your mind."
Graham looked at Ozma. Any sympathy he might have felt for her was gone.
He saw her point, but he did feel more like a prisoner than a citizen of
Oz.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
A WINDOW, A WINDOW
Graham's apartment in the palace was not at all palace-like, and it
looked as if it had not been lived in for some time. But he agreed to
live there. He had no desire to live in Ozma's palace, but he wanted to
have the ability to visit his friends on occasion. He still saw Ozma as
a captor. All he had ever wanted was to go home, and now he knew that he
was never going to achieve that goal. In his heart, he hated Ozma for
doing this to him. The very least she could do would have been to bring
his family here! Why was she so structured about things? This was hardly
the stuff that nice fairy tales were made of!
Graham's apartment was in a very secluded part of the palace where he
would not have to see anyone unless he elected to. There were no
neighbors to speak of. Graham sort of preferred it that way. He did not
want to speak his mind about the cruel little Queen to anyone. She was
so mean that he feared she would make a cow-bell out of him if he seemed
the least bit insubordinate.... So he sat in an old settee and brooded.
He had a good supply of books to keep him company, and all of the Ozian
celebrities had agreed to visit him often. At the time, he had agreed to
these visits. But now, as he sat staring at the wall, he wished that
they would not come. He yearned only to be left alone. But one can,
after all, only be left alone for a short while before he becomes
lonesome. And Graham was not so very long in becoming anxious for some
sort of companionship, or at least some form of stimulation. He went to
a bookshelf and perused the titles on the various tomes that were there.
_The Emerald City of Oz_ was among them. Graham sullenly took it in his
hands and flopped it open. To his astonishment, he found there a
reference to Dorothy's aunt and uncle being allowed to come and live in
Oz to be close to her. Not only that, but it recounted how Dorothy had
come to visit Oz on many occasions, gone back home to Kansas, and even
told people about Oz while she was there! This really made Graham feel
insulted. If Ozma could trust a girl, why not a boy? For the next couple
of hours, Graham pored over the many books that he found in the palace
library's vast collection. Each and every time a person, adult, boy, or
girl, came to Oz, Ozma had always treated him as she had Dorothy. In
fact, the very Shaggy Man that Ozma had mentioned actually had to beg to
stay in Oz! Ozma had practically insisted that he be sent home! Why was
she acting so cruelly toward himself, but toward no one else? He stood
up indignantly and decided then and there to make his way back to the
throne room and have a word with Ozma. That mean little girl would have
a darn good explanation for this, or she would have a black eye!
Graham walked the corridors of the palace for about twenty minutes. But
they seemed to have twisted and turned around. They were not as he
remembered them at all. He wondered at this. Could Ozma have done this
to permanently entrap him? He grew to hate Ozma more and more as the
minutes ticked away. The corridors seemed endless! And none seemed to
lead to anyplace in particular, either. "Ooh!" he said, gritting his
teeth in frustration. "When I find that little twirp of a Queen, I'm
going to show her what-for!" But three more hours of frustration brought
him no closer to this goal. At last, he flung himself to the ground and
looked up at the ceiling. "I hate you, Princess Ozma!" he grunted. "I
hate you!"
[Illustration]
Then, from sheer exhaustion, he fell asleep. He remained asleep for an
undeterminable period of time. He was awakened by a shaft of light in
his eyes. A window! There was a window! He had overlooked it in his
frustrated exhaustion, but now it was evident to him. Oh, it was a bit
high, but he felt that he might be able to jump up to it. He picked
himself up. His body was still a bit exhausted, but he was a young boy.
And in good shape. He made his leap. Then he picked himself up and tried
again. It took him sixteen tries to make it, but he finally managed to
grab hold of the edge of the window. There was no glass, so he pulled
himself through. The land outside was a barren mass of crowded
prickle-weeds and gnarled old trees. Obviously not a part of the Emerald
City that would be mentioned in a travel agent's brochures. But Graham was
determined to find Ozma. He pushed aside the prickling weeds as best he
could and trudged through the dust and muck of the area. It nauseated
him, but he moved on. He thought how odd it was that the Emerald City of
Oz would have such an unpleasant area in it. But he let these thoughts
dissolve as he recalled what an unpleasant queen the place had. After
several hours of fighting against the weeds, most of which were twice
his size, he was surprised to hear a small voice. "Who are you?" it
said.
[Illustration]
"I'm Graham," he replied.
"Really?" said the voice. "I love your crackers. Where are you?"
"I'm in a bunch of weeds," he said.
"Oh? How come?"
"I was trying to find the front of Ozma's palace. Can you help me find
it?"
"I could," said the voice. "But you are about four thousand miles out
of your way."
"What?" said Graham. "You're wrong! I just escaped out of a window in
Ozma's palace a few hours ago! And I know I haven't made any progress
hardly at all!"
"I'm afraid it's you who are wrong," replied the voice. "Ozma's palace
is a long, long journey from here. Ah, here you are!"
A burst of sudden fire appeared out of nowhere; it burned away a number
of the weeds, and Graham saw a clear tunnel through the weeds to open
air. In addition to that, however, he saw the most unusual creature he
had ever seen ... It was not very large, but it looked as if it were
composed of several different-sized squares and rectangles. All straight
edges, nothing rounded. It had thick, leathery skin, and three
glistening hairs grew from the tip of its rectangular tail. The creature
spoke: "Now that I have a face to go along with the voice, I can see
that you are a stranger in these parts. Allow me to introduce myself. I
am he who is called the Woozy. To the best of my knowledge, I am the
only Woozy in the world, so I've never had need of any other particular
name. Happy to meet you, Graham. I hope that you are a nice fellow, and
not some meany who will say Krizzle-Kroo to me."
"N-no," stuttered Graham. "I wouldn't say a thing like that, I'm sure.
But--I have just climbed out a window of Ozma's palace. I couldn't
possibly be as far from there as you say!"
"Yes, you are," replied the Woozy. "You must be mistaken about the
window."
"But Ozma was there! And the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, and the
Patchwork Girl, and Tik-Tok, and ... and everyone!"
"I'm sorry, my friend Graham," said the Woozy. "There is no palace here.
The only building here that I know of is that one that was built by the
old Wicked Witch of the West. The Winkies say that she used to have a
bunch of winding corridors in there that were meant to drive her slaves
nuts if they ever were sent there as a punishment."
"But how did I get there from the Emerald City? Ozma was really mean to
me, so I locked myself away in a room there."
"Ozma was mean to you?" the Woozy said with obvious shock. "Are you a
villain?"
Graham quickly related the whole story to the Woozy, who seemed to be
the only friend (however unfamiliar) he had had around him in an awfully
long time.
"My," replied the Woozy. "That is quite a story. But I fear you were
duped, my friend."
"Duped?" echoed he.
"I think you were never in the Emerald City. Somehow, the Witch sent you
here and created a very elaborate hallucination for you. She uses these
weeds for that sometimes. That's why I was burning them away. I can make
fire come out of my eyes when I'm angry, and these wicked weeds
certainly make me feel that way! Want to see?"
"No," sighed Graham. "So you mean that wasn't Ozma who talked to me?"
"Certainly not!" The Woozy was indignant. "Our dear Queen is not like
that at all! I can assure you that you spoke to a hallucination caused
by an infusion made out of these dratted weeds!"
"Yes, my little square-boxed squiggley!" came the voice of the Witch.
"You have assessed the situation very well." The Witch appeared,
seemingly out of nowhere. "Did you really think I was fooled by that
ruse? You must think I'm a real moron! But I have won! Telly is disposed
of for good!"
"Allidap!" shouted the Woozy. "The fake one from the parade! It's her!"
At the sight of the hated individual, a huge blast of fire burst forth
from his eyeballs. The Witch ducked aside, but not before getting her
face badly blackened and her clothing ruined. "You just wait!" spat the
Woozy at the evil creature. "Ozma will look for you in her Magic Picture
yet! You just wait! She'll make a spell that will send you away for
good!"
"Nope," smiled the Witch. "That's covered. You remember how realistic
my illusionary Emerald City was? Well, I watched and waited for a
trusted friend of Ozma's to look into that silly old Magic Picture. Then
I gave it to him. A very beautiful hallucination! He saw me fall into a
river and dissolve completely. So as far as Ozma is concerned, I am
destroyed. She'd have no further need to suspect otherwise, so she will
not seek me out."
The Woozy was taken aback. But he quickly composed himself and added,
"And Glinda will read about you in the Magic Book of Oz!"
"Similarly handled," grinned the Witch. "Any other bright ideas?"
Another blast of fire issued forth from the Woozy's eyes. The weeds went
up in a towering inferno.
"Let's get out of here!" said the Woozy to Graham. "Contrary to what
some people think, I am not made of wood! I have to breathe, and I fear
that this smoke might be as hallucinogenic as the stuff she makes from
the weeds!"
The two ran away as fast as they could. At such time as they were far
enough from the smoke to breathe easy, Graham stopped running. The Woozy
did not seem to notice, and he just kept right on going and going and
going. Graham was alone again. But at least he was out of the terrible
Witch's reach. Indeed, the Witch was presently having a most exciting
dream about plush animals which could be inflated to the size of a house
and then used as potato-mashers in the thermostat of life which likes to
think about groovy butterflies with red and purple and yellow and violet
whispers in the dark backward uprising theme of the way it really was in
the thunder of the goat farm with lots of yams and a shovelful of fine
white powder that looked like the side of a barn with lots of clocks and
fleas with orange earrings in their hazy green and blue and pink
walking-sticks which were married to some tortilla chips and about
thirty-five orange and brown cabinet-makers with green feathers and pink
fur.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
JEANNE-MARIE
Graham sat down upon the ground and sighed. He was glad to have escaped
from the Wicked Witch yet again, but he felt sorry for his companion. He
wondered what that awful old woman might have done to poor Telly. Could
she have locked him away in a torture chamber someplace? Some terrible
winding maze such as he had just left? It made him feel sick to even
imagine it. He absently sat and drew a picture of Telly in the dirt.
"Where are you, Telly?" he asked aloud. He spoke his question into the
air, and no answer seemed to be forthcoming. "What has she done to you?
I have to know. I miss you, Telly! You are my best friend in this
strange land. I love you! Where have you been taken?"
"Who is Telly?" came an unfamiliar female voice. Graham turned about to
see who had spoken. He was looking as much into the sun as into the face
of the speaker. It was hard to distinguish her features. But she looked
like a fine white horse.
"Hello?" said Graham uncertainly.
"Hello," replied the voice. Whoever she was, she sounded gentle and
understanding. "My name is Jeanne-Marie. Why are you so glum?"
"My friend has been taken prisoner by a bad Witch," explained the boy,
who felt an inexplicable trust for this equine newcomer. "Oh," she
replied. "I am sorry. I had thought that Queen Ozma had done away with
all such vile Witches."
"Well," he sighed, "she doesn't know about this one. This wicked old
Witch has created a very clever illusion that has made Ozma unable to
see her or to find out about her. I was fooled, too. I had been under
the impression that Ozma was as wicked as the Witch. But I was wrong. If
only I could find Ozma. The real Ozma, not just an illusion that was
passing itself off as the real Ozma. Then I could tell her what was
going on. If all that the Woozy told me is true, the real Ozma would be
able to make things right again. As it is, I can't help Telly, and I can
never go home to America again, either!"
The horse nestled down beside the boy. Only then did he realize that
this was no normal horse that was speaking to him. She was different
from all horses in all Graham's experience. She was as pure white as the
driven snow, and her mane was a shiny silver. From the top of her head
grew a long, beautiful horn. "Wow!" exclaimed Graham. "Are you a real
unicorn?"
"So I've been told," laughed Jeanne-Marie. "But I am a long way from my
home, just like you are. I left that area because the other unicorns
didn't seem to understand my views on things. They thought I was strange
and that I was not worthy of the name of the unicorns. But I cannot help
what I am. I yearn to see all that there is to see of this Land of Oz in
which I live. And I wanted to find someone who could understand my
philosophies, too. None of the stallions of my breed took me seriously,
and I have never once felt true love. At least, not until I met
MacDonald Lindsay."
"Who is that?" wondered Graham.
"Well, I haven't actually met him in person," she admitted. "But I
overheard him talking to his helpers one day. He was telling them about
the need for all sentient beings to have a purpose in life. No one can
be fulfilled if he is not in some way making his existence count for
anything. He himself is in control of the finest dairy farm in Oz. He
has vast fields of milkweed that his helpers harvest for him in exchange
for their housing, food, and the occasional game of quoits."