Abducted to Oz - Bob Evans and Chris Dulabone
"That sounds fair, I suppose," replied Graham, realizing that this group
was not one which was accustomed to using any form of money.
"Very much so," she said. "And the helpers--a unique tribe of
warthog-like amphibians known as wartfrogs--are highly contented with
their lot. MacDonald Lindsay allows them to come and go as they please,
and he has given each of them a home that is far more luxurious than his
own little lodging. Actually, MacDonald's farm is the only thing he has
that is luxurious. His personal abode is a simple cleft in a rock that
you can see from here in that little hill." She pointed with her horn.
"I see it," said Graham. "This MacDonald fellow sounds like a good
enough guy."
"Oh, he is very good," said Jeanne-Marie. "But very mysterious. I have
not had any real opportunity to ask him, but I think I could be very
happy working in his fields alongside the wartfrogs."
"Have you ever tried to go to him to ask for a job?" questioned Graham.
"No. But I have been in his fields. Indeed, his milkweed is the best in
all the land. It is not just an ordinary dairy-farm product. It is
special. It is chocolate milkweed, and it is as smooth as Chinese silk.
I have been following the wartfrogs and sneaking an occasional taste of
any chocolate milkweed pods that they overlooked."
"I see," said Graham.
"You are welcome to have dinner with me," said Jeanne-Marie. "I have at
least a half-dozen pods that I am willing to share with you."
It was at that point that Graham remembered how long it had been since
last he had eaten. Even then, he was not sure the food had been anything
more than an illusion conjured up by the Witch. It was not more than a
second before he heard himself accepting the invitation. Indeed, the
chocolate milkweed was the most delicious thing Graham had ever tasted.
He thanked Jeanne-Marie over and over for sharing this delightful new
taste-treat with him. He and the unicorn talked for a long while
afterward. He was not sure just how long it was, but he awoke the next
morning feeling quite refreshed.
The unicorn had already gone on her way. But she had left a note for
Graham explaining that she had gone to watch the wartfrogs in MacDonald
Lindsay's fields, as was her usual morning activity. The note informed
him that she would seek him out later that afternoon, if he cared to
stay in the vicinity, and that she was happy to have met him should he
choose to move on...
[Illustration]
After thinking it over, Graham decided that he was going to need help
if he planned to rescue poor Telly from the false Allidap. Hence, he
decided to wait for Jeanne-Marie. He could spend the day formulating a
plan that would allow them to get Telly away from the Witch without
endangering their own lives.
MacDonald Lindsay was a fellow who was in high position on his farm, yet
he gave all of the finest of his yield to others. He was a man who had
few needs, only the knowledge that his crops were bringing happiness to
others. That was all he had ever asked. Yet there was something missing
in his life. Something upon which he could not place a finger. Yes,
indeed MacDonald Lindsay had fingers. Three of them on each hand, in
fact! He was a powerful and muscular troll, for all intents and
purposes. That is, he was from the waist up. From his waist down,
instead of the usual troll waist and legs, however, he had the neck and
body of a mighty black stallion. Anyone born under the astrological sign
of Sagittarius might recognize him as a relation to the centaur. But
MacDonald Lindsay claimed no such heritage formally. "Lambert," he said,
putting a beefy hand on the shoulder of one of his workers, who happened
to be a foreman among the wartfrogs.
"Yeah?" asked the amphibian.
"Who is the little unicorn? The one I see out there in my fields? I have
seen her other times, too."
"I know no name for her," sighed the wartfrog. "My boys and I have seen
her before, though. She only takes a few pods--and only those extreme
few that my boys don't consider worthy of picking or trading in your
name. Those that she takes are all too small or have already been picked
over by the crows. We had once considered making a scarecrow--an
inanimate one, of course. Not like the guy who usually comes to mind
when we think of scarecrows. But that little unicorn seems to get what
she needs from our leftovers, so no one has bothered to send her on her
way."
"So she only takes that which is rejected from my farm?"
replied MacDonald doubtfully.
[Illustration]
"Well," began the worker, "please don't be angry with me. There have
been a couple of occasions that I have taken pity on the poor creature
and left a few better pods for her to find. Please don't get angry, sir!
I only did it because I felt sorry for the poor little thing. She looked
so hungry, and we have so much."
Within minutes, the mighty centaur-like man was looking into the eyes of
the young unicorn. "I--I'm sorry to intrude on your farm," she said
tremblingly.
"Listen, my dear," he said. "You are welcome in my fields any time you
wish to be here. You are welcome to take any milkweed you want or to
help yourself to any of my other crops. I have asked my wartfrogs to
ignore you. You no longer need to feel like an intruder."
"You are very kind," she replied. "You know that I am not from around
here. I am not understood amongst my own kind, so I am something of an
outcast, you might say."
"Not here, you're not."
"Thank you, sir!" The unicorn seemed to be near tears. "Thank you so
much!"
When Jeanne-Marie returned to the little clearing where she had left
Graham, she brought him several milkweed pods, as well as a few cookies
she had picked from the bushes around the base of MacDonald's rock. "He
is very sweet," she said. "The moment I saw his eyes, I knew that he was
special. Graham, do you believe in love at first sight?"
"I don't know," he said to her. "But I sure do love these cookies!"
And so it went for the next day and the next. By day, Jeanne-Marie went
to the fields, where she grew more and more fond of the odd stallion
there. By night, she plotted with Graham as to how they might go about
locating Telly. The problem seemed to be that the Witch could have
magically zapped him off as far away as Santa Monica, California, had
she wanted to do so. Finding him would not be an easy task. To make
matters worse, poor Jeanne-Marie had become a tad too taken with
MacDonald Lindsay. The wartfrogs had begun to mistrust her.
[Illustration]
"She isn't even the same kind of animal!" said Lambert, the wartfrog
leader. "She doesn't have any troll features--not even a little around
the eyes! They are totally incompatible! She must only be out to get his
milkweed! To think that I once felt sympathy for that wretched little
unicorn! Why, that cunning little crook even has Lindsay entranced so
much that he has begun giving her some of the good stuff! She is no
longer contented with the scraps and rejects of our fields! She has got
to go. But how shall we do it? It will have to be handled in a sneaky
enough way so as to keep Lindsay from noticing. He has been placed under
the spell of that little siren, and I know that he would never grant us
permission to shove her away from the area."
It was the very next day that the wartfrogs made their move. Under the
direction of Lambert, they went about their work, and it was business as
usual. Then, when one of the amphibious pigs saw the small unicorn in
the field behind them, Lambert called for a halt. The wartfrogs turned
around and went back toward Jeanne-Marie. She was not looking in their
direction, so she did not notice that they were coming toward her until
it was too late to escape. They were already upon her and hurled her
unceremoniously into a harvesting-bag. This they tossed onto their cart
and carried away. "I will sell her to a zoo in some other land, where
they are not so kind to thieving horse-creatures!" giggled Lambert,
showing his teeth. "Now we can get rid of this little troublemaker once
and for all! Old Mickey-D will never know what became of his dear little
charity-case!"
Indeed, it would have been curtains for poor Jeanne-Marie had not Graham
had a sudden inspiration which he wanted to tell her about right away.
He felt certain that he had formulated a plan by which they would be
able to save Telly from the Witch, and he had run into the milkweed
fields to find her. He had seen the terrible wartfrogs capture her and
had even overheard what they planned to do to her. "I can't let them do
it!" he whispered angrily. "Why, this is the second time I've made a
friend in Oz who has met with foul play!" He would have cried, had his
sadness not been so highly overcompensated for by his anger. His first
instinct was to run to her and try to fight for her freedom. But he was
a wise enough boy to know full well that this would be folly. He was no
more than one little boy against a whole farm's worth of strong and
muscular laborers. If he were to pick a fight with this bunch, he would
be sold alongside his friend. No, he would need another plan of rescue.
But he had already come up with one such plan. Now he could give it a
test-run. However, he knew that he could not hope to carry it out all by
himself. No, he would have to have help. And Graham knew from whence
that help must come. With a swallow of anxiety, he headed for the home
of the ranchero.
MacDonald Lindsay was as amiable a fellow as the unicorn had said. This
fact instantly put Graham's anxiety to rest. "Do come in, my friend,"
said the ranchero. "What can I do to make you happy?"
[Illustration]
"It's about Jeanne-Marie," said Graham.
"That poor little waif of a unicorn?" replied the troll-horse.
"That very one," said Graham. "Your workers have taken her prisoner, and
they plan to sell her to a zoo or a circus or something like that."
The troll creature looked at Graham and frowned. Then he began to laugh.
"Ha ha!" he said. "You take me for a complete and utter idiot! No, you
cannot be telling me the truth. My boys are under orders to let the
lovely little waif alone. They would not do such a cruel or vile thing
to anyone, I assure you."
"But I was there, sir," pleaded Graham. "I saw it all with my own two
eyes! They put Jeanne-Marie into a great big grain-bag and hid her on a
cart that they carried along behind them. The big fat one said he was
going to sell her to a zoo! I heard him say so! He said, 'Old Mickey-D
will never know what became of his little charity-case!'" As he quoted
the line, he did his best to imitate the wartfrog's voice. "Please, Mr.
Lindsay, you just have to believe me! I'm telling you the truth!"
"Now, now," answered the troll voice, which was sounding less patient
than before. "I know better. No one on my staff would ever do such a
thing ... And no one on my staff would ever ... Wait a minute. Did you
say 'Old Mickey-D?' My, my. Only Foreman Lambert ever called me by that
annoying name. And no one but he would have the audacity to...." His
heart pounded so loudly that Graham could hear it from across the room.
Then the troll-horse let out a couple of loud exclamations. "Merciful
Frances of Grand Rapids, Minnesota!" he bellowed. "Judy in the sky! What
a fool I have been to overlook it! Lambert has been trying to hide it
from me, but he has been showing signs of resentment against that
unicorn! I should have seen this coming. But you have opened my eyes, my
boy. I have strived--er, striven? Er, I have always made it my strivence
in these fields to ensure that every visiting child and family
successfully explores his own particular creative abilities. I had seen
so many fine qualities of leadership in Foreman Lambert that I closed my
eyes to his darker side. But I can no longer look the other way. It may
not be kosher, but I am going to have to fight against my own right-hand
man."
The ranchero started angrily for the door.
"Wait!" shouted Graham, taking on the role of the calm and collected boy
with a plan.
"Wait for what?" asked Lindsay. "I'll wait for nothing until I see that
lousy Lambert get his just rewards!"
"He will," spoke the boy. "Yes. But not that way!"
"What ..."
"If you try to fight all of those thugs at once, you'll just be
outnumbered. I have a better idea. I know of a way to save Jeanne-Marie
without anyone getting hurt."
"Then spill it, my boy! What is this plan?"
Foreman Lambert took the rest of the day off. He carefully researched
the best place to sell a captured unicorn. He planned to get enough
wealth to buy the entire farm and spend the rest of his days sipping
strawberry daiquiris and conversing with MacDonald Lindsay about the
joys of being affluent. As he sat and pored over the pages of _The
Encyclopedia of Places Where Unicorns Can be Successfully Sold on the
Black Market With No Questions Asked Except When the Salesman Happens to
be a Mangaboo: Vol. 224_, he heard a peculiar clattering noise outside.
Fearing it might affect his own happiness in some way, Lambert ran
outside to see what was the matter. The sight that met his eyes was
hardly what he would have expected. There before him was a huge Ox
tethered to a wagon. One wheel had fallen from the wagon, and the
wagonmaster was jumping up and down, shouting angry expletives at the
ox. "You filthy pile of oxtail soup!" shouted the young man. "You are as
able to locate the proper roads as Dorothy was in _The Road to Oz_! Now
just look what your lack of brains has caused us! You dragged us off the
road, and now we have another busted wheel to bother about! You are just
a lousy old coot!"
"Now, now," said Lambert. "You needn't speak so unkindly to this fine
animal. I'll be happy to take him off your hands if he's such a ... a
coot, I think you said?"
"Yeah!" begged the ox. "Let him have me! I can work on this big farm!"
"Not a cotton-picking chance!" blurted the human. "I need a work-horse
to pull this wagon. If I had another animal, maybe a horse or a pony,
I'd gladly unload your crummy old worthless hide in a heartbeat! But
such beasts are sure to be expensive in these parts, especially to a
stranger like me. And all I have are these forty-eight diamonds, a bag
of square emeralds, and a couple of rubies to spare."
Lambert lit up and became more alert than he had ever been before.
Standing straight up and trying to look as businesslike as a wartfrog
can possibly look, he said, "That is the exact price I planned to ask
for a very pretty unicorn that I have recently acquired by perfectly
legitimate means."
"Are there any other kind?" asked the stranger with a sly wink.
"Of course not." He ran inside to the closet and grabbed the bag with
Jeanne-Marie inside. Coming back to his customer, he handed it over and
greedily grabbed the precious gemstones. "Thank you, oh thank you!" he
squealed gleefully. "And can I get that ox, too?"
"You can get me, all right," said the ox. "But I'm not sure you want
what comes with me." Stepping toward the wartfrog and ramming his face
against one of Lambert's tough tusks (which, consequently, broke off and
fell to the ground), he broke off what became obviously a papier mache
mask. Beneath it, he was actually the owner of the whole ranch,
MacDonald Lindsay.
"Oh oh...." gasped Lambert. "Er, hi, master. I knew it was you all
along. That is why I went along with your silly little game. Had it been
anyone but you, I'd not have left my work for a moment to play such a
game. But no harm done, right? Here, take these little gemstones away. I
don't really need them. All part of the game, though, you know. Well, I
do have work to do now ... Toodle-oo!"
"LAMBERT!" roared the troll in a voice that would have shamed the
kingliest of lions. "You have no work to do here."
"Oh, but I do," said Lambert. "I must take this darling unicorn back to
where she belongs. Oh, yes, yes! Please do not hinder us. I must get her
away from here, where she is such a lovely distraction. Yeah, that's
exactly the problem, my master. Gotta get her home now. Later!"
The troll placed a powerful and majestic hoof on one of Lambert's
flippers. "Excuse me," he said. "But I told you that you have no further
work to do here. Please pick up your toys and get off of my ranch. And
take your disobedient helpers with you. Also, you may have as many
milkweed pods as you can carry. I'll never let it be said that I am
heartless."
"But, master!" stammered Lambert. "You can't do this! You mustn't! We've
come such a long way already! I was up for a raise next year!"
"I'll raise a few things for you if you aren't out of my sight before
nightfall." Lindsay was suddenly calm. "And if I ever see you around
this innocent waif again, I will ... Well, I don't rightly know what
I'll do. But you can rest assured that it won't be very much fun for
either of us."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
CAN'T STAND IN THE WAY OF LOVE
"Well, now!" cackled the Witch. "You thought you'd seen the last of ol'
Allidap, did you? You were so wrong! Ha ha ha! Now I have you in my
clutches once more, and you won't be escaping from me again, I can tell
you! To think, you tried to trick me with a photo of some television
star. But you won't be able to fool me again quite so easily, my little
basket of nuts and bolts!"
The evil woman had chained Telly to a large black platform and was
standing over him in a most menacing manner. "You showed me a picture of
somebody else to make me think I was a ravishing beauty. You lied to me,
you electronic hunk of junk!"
Telly struggled to free himself of his chains, but they proved to be too
strong for him. Giving in, he stopped struggling and tuned in to an old
rerun of _Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color._
"Let me see now," muttered the false Allidap. "I must think this over. I
have to do something appropriate to punish you for your deceptive ways.
Maybe I should turn you into a candy cane and gobble you up?" She
scratched her chin. "No, that would be much too kind. I must think of a
punishment that is more fitting to a ROTTEN, MEAN LIAR such as you
happen to be. Hmmm. Maybe I could transform you into a little brown wart
on the left foot of a slimy old toad? Or a bucket of rotten peas? But
that still seems hardly enough punishment for a creepy little crawler
like you. Oooh! Of all the disgusting luck! If I had only been
manifested with the ability to read! Then I could find a perfectly
lovely little spell to cast on you that would satisfy my need to punish
you!" She stalked to a nearby shelf which was covered with various
bottles of herbs and tinctures. Each of these had a faded yellowing
label, but none of these labels did her any good. It became clear to her
that the inability to read was indeed a great setback. As she pondered
an appropriate course of action, she heard a rustling sound outside.
"What is that annoying noise?" she spat. "Maybe your little pal Graham
has come to let me capture him as well? I will make short work of him,
let me tell you! He was a fool to come here!" She stepped lively to the
door and stamped her way outside. "Okay, little boy!" she called. "I
know that you are out here someplace! Come on out of hiding. Trying to
trick me will only make it worse on yourself. Come to me quietly, and
let us get this messy ordeal over with quickly. Being that you are so
fond of reading Oz books, I think I will turn you into a copy of
_Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz_. Then, as a book does me no good, I will
toss you into my fireplace and watch you burn!"
There was no reply.
"I see," sighed the Witch. "So you want to make things difficult, do
you? Well, I am willing to go along with your silly little game of
hide-and-go-seek. But just remember, my fine and dandy little gentleman,
that once I do find you, I will not be so lenient on your crummy hiding
little hide!" As she searched the scraggly brush that surrounded her
home, she grew more and more agitated. "You may be a pretty good hider,"
she bellowed. "But I'll get you in the end, you just wait and see!" She
searched for a solid half hour before she decided that Graham was not to
be found. "The little fruitcake must have run off in fear and horror,"
she determined. "Well, I will concern myself with his punishment some
other time. Right now, I have the television set to attend to. I will
miss my soaps, but I think it's high time I put that nasty old creep in
his proper place. I think I'll make him into a nice bowl of lumpy
spider-flavored oatmeal and have him for a snack." So saying, she
sauntered back into her home. Once inside, she was met with a sight that
made her more angry than ever. There, on either side of the platform
which held Telly captive, were the two huge jungle-cats. The Cowardly
Lion was trying in vain to unshackle Telly's chains. The Hungry Tiger,
who had been standing guard, saw the enemy and instantly prepared to
spring on her. "You'd better leave us alone, you yucky old Witch!"
growled the Tiger threateningly. "We are taking Telly to the real
Emerald City to meet the real Queen Ozma. Once Ozma hears what you've
been up to, she'll transport you to some place where you can never cause
our beloved Land of Oz any further grief!"
"Is that so?" chuckled the Witch, quickly regaining her bearings. "I'd
like to see the stumbling, demented child queen try that! Maybe I should
turn her into a toadstool to show you that I am the all-powerful one
here. Your foolish little girl is no queen! She's just a flimsy excuse
for a bad one-liner. In fact, you know what I'm going to do to her? I
think I should enjoy making her into a little sugar cube and drinking
her in my tea. But first, I think I should take care of you little kitty
cats. I have heard a story about a little brat named Sambo who made some
tigers into butter. I think this tawny scrawny beast would be a fine
spread for my toast. Yes, I think that should be quite delicious. And
the little lion could become the toast! How delightful it would be to
eat the two of you together!"
The Lion was visibly shaken by this idea. "I d-d-don't want to be
t-t-toast!" he bellowed fearfully.
"And I will not become a pat of butter, either," added the Tiger,
quickly springing on the antagonist and knocking her over.
The Witch struggled for a few minutes and finally freed herself, only to
be knocked over a second time by the Lion, who had summoned up a few
grams of courage in just the nick of time. "You pestery creatures!" she
blurted. "You filthy rotten haggard beasts of bumbling stumbling
stupidity! I will see you both destroyed and I'll laugh about it, you
rotten dirty crummy hateful old things!" Summoning in her rage a
strength she had never before known, she hurled the Lion on top of the
Tiger. Then, grabbing a huge net, she threw it over the two of them
before they had any time to move out of the way. "Now I have you all, my
dearies! All three of that foolish kid's friendies! And I'll see you all
into your demises right now!" the Witch said in a whisper. She was about
to carry out this threat when there was a knock on the door. "Oh, drat
it all!" said the Witch. "Who could that be? If it's your silly
Scram-Graham, I'll allow him the honor of watching me destroy all of the
rest of you!" She went to the door. There, she saw a strange creature
looking at her and wearing a painted smile on his face. "What the
dickens are you?" she said. "You look a little bit like a troll, but you
have a horse's body growing out of your waist."
"I am a sort of horse-troll," he replied. "But that is not important
right now. What is important is that this may be your lucky day!"
"My lucky what?" asked the Witch, not quite understanding.
"Is this the home of Bastinda Slinky Myrna Evillene Allidap?" asked the
stranger.
"Er ... I guess so," replied the Witch.
"Splendid!" replied the ranchero. "And would you happen to be Bastinda
Slinky Myrna Evillene Allidap?"
"I think so," she said, not sure she remembered all of those names that
were being applied to her.
"Delightful!" said the stranger. "Then I am here, Ms. Allidap, to tell
you that today is the luckiest day of your life!"
"Is it?"
"Indeed so! Ms. Allidap, you were selected out of the five hundred
billion applicants to receive a prize of twenty-seven million dollars
and thirteen cents! And, since you were home when I arrived, you may be
eligible for more prizes!" He turned around and whistled through his
teeth. "Oh, boys! She's here. Bring in the cameras." A small, horse-like
creature and a young man with a television camera in place of a head
came running up. "Oh, good. You're here. Mr. Camerahead, let's get some
good footage of our lucky winner in her home. Let's go inside. It will
look more natural if our winner is in a comfortable place on her sofa."
"But ..." began the Witch. "But ... I didn't even know there was a TV
station in Oz."
"Well, of course there is," said the horse. "Where else would Ozites
turn to see their favorite Rankin-Bass Oz cartoon episodes?
We are broadcasting from the peak of Some Summit. Now, come on, let's
be lively about this. We haven't got all day. We have a commercial to
shoot for _The Ozmapolitan_ newspaper at ten after three."