Loading summary
Transcript1 lines
- [00:12]
A
The hammers rang out by the stables. They had been at it for three days, working in shifts without ceasing. Dorothy had freed the Winkies, the people of the West. They had ransacked the witch's castle, delivered summary justice to the witch's collaborators, and feasted on the spoils she had wrung from them for years. They were nearly worshipful when it came to Dorothy, putting her in the place of honor, but they could read the pain on her face. She said she was going home soon, but the Tin Woodman and the Scarecrow would never go home. They would never get their heart in their brain. The Winkies were confused, and Dorothy explained everything about Nick Chopper and his emergency tin appendages. And it wasn't until they had recovered his body and had him in the workshop that they told Dorothy. And it wasn't until the end of the third day that Dorothy heard the man laughing and joking with his tinsmiths physicians. Minutes later, the door opened and the Tin Woodman walked out. He was patched and polished and he was alive in a relative sense. He held Dorothy in tears in his arms. She was so happy to see him. With the Tin Woodman's resurrection, the Scarecrow seemed almost trivial. And he was a winky. Rescue team climbed the tree, and 15 minutes after they got back to the stables outside the castle, the Scarecrow was re stuffed and talking about how if he had organs, he would have had to live marooned as a piece of cloth on a tree. In a fate worse than death, Dorothy could see his knowledge of human biology was still bit spotty, and she hugged him too. On the day they left the Yellow Castle, as it was now called, it was a cool one, and Dorothy had gone through the witch's things looking for supplies when she chanced upon a golden cap. Now maybe Dorothy thought that it looked nice and since it was a cool day, she could use it. Maybe the reverence of the Winkies had gone to her head and she thought she deserved it. But when she strode out from the castle, she was wearing the cap and she tucked her sunbonnet in her basket. With that, they all started for the Emerald City in the east to claim the promise of the wizard from Jason and Carissa Weiser, the creators of myths and legends. This is fictional. They were never going to make it to the Emerald City. There was no path and they had been walking for days. All they had to do was walk in the direction of the rising sun. But the trip seemed to stretch on endlessly. There had been talk of some enchantment of the land to prevent travelers. Maybe some remnant of the witch's magic still lingered. Something is wrong, Dorothy said. I'm going to call the Queen of the mice. Maybe she knows what's going on here. And sitting next to the animated scarecrow, the Tin man and the talking lion, she took the whistle from her basket back in the first part of the series that I actually didn't mention, but she's had the whole time and blew it. Summoning the Queen of the Mice. She laughed as she waited at the wholly unexpected turn her life had taken since the day the cyclone came. The Queen of the Mice was helpful, especially when she pointed out Dorothy's cap that was used to summon the flying monkeys. And the instructions for how to do so were etched inside the cap. But if Dorothy was going to summon the monkeys, the queen was going to take off because she and the monkeys did not get along. Partially because the monkeys liked to mess with them, partially because the monkeys were complicit in enslaving the West. Dorothy took off the cap, studied the words, and did the whole dance with the jumping on one foot thing that I don't need to go through again. Everyone was wary when the cloud of monkeys appeared, what with two of the party remembering being brutally maimed by them and the other two captured and taken before the witch. But the monkeys didn't address that. The lead one simply bowed and asked for Dorothy's command. Minutes later, they were all in the air. So you had no choice but to obey. Dorothy thought about the implication and it did make things a little better. The monkey grumbled in the affirmative and while they flew, told his story. Once, many years ago, before Oz came down from the clouds, they were free flying monkeys. In the north, there was a beautiful sorceress named Gaelette. And she was beautiful. That sentence is not just poorly written and redundant, there's a reason for it. Because she was so beautiful that every man in the north was either too stupid or ugly or both to mate with her. So where she couldn't forage, she would farm. Which is an extremely euphemistic way to say that she would kidnap a boy and raise him up in her palace to be both wise and good looking so she could marry him when he came of age. Yeah, gross. The kid's name was Quellala. Q U E Lala but it worked out. I mean, how could it not? She was a sorceress who completely controlled the young man's world and perceptions and as the wedding approached, had him dressed in silks. This was where Grandpa Monkey, the grandfather of the current Flying Monkey King, came in, actually diving from the sky to pick up Kaylala, dropping him in the water for a prank. The kid didn't get flying monkey humor, but he was a good sport and swam out. The sorceress, though, was livid. The silks and velvets had been ruined by the river. She commanded the monkeys to be brought before her and as if compelled, they obeyed, fighting and writhing but staying in place. Galette ordered her soldiers to bind the monkeys wings and throw them in the same river. But King Grandpa begged her to think of any other way. Thus the golden cap was made. The magic in it was powerful and cost the sorceress half the kingdom of the North. The first wearer of the crown was Kaelala, whose only wish was for the monkeys to stay far from the north, which was easy. It was when the crown fell into the hands of the Witch in the west that they had to do things that would stay with them forever. Dorothy and the party knew her third and final wish. The first one was the enslavement of the winkies, the people of the West. And the second was driving Oz the Wizard all the way to the gates of the Emerald City. Nearly as soon as the monkey had finished his tale, they were at the gates of the Emerald City. We'll have to be quick. They're already sounding the alarm. The last time we pushed Oz's warriors back to the gates, the monkey shuddered, set Dorothy down beside her companions and flew away as fast as his wings would carry him. Three days. Three days waiting for Oz to respond to the fact that they had destroyed the Witch of the West. Dorothy didn't like destroyed, but she supposed she liked it more than murdered, killed or melted. Which brought back images of the woman's face dripping away. It was the Scarecrow that secured the meeting, oddly enough. Did you see who brought us? The Scarecrow told the guard at the grand door to Oz. He pointed to Dorothy. The one who killed the witch can summon them. In an instant they can come and tear this place and anyone in it apart. You don't want that, right? The guard was frozen in fear. Tell oz he has 24 hours. The scarecrow strode back and Oz heard, taking the 24 hours to its limit. He would see them at four minutes after 9am the following morning, after passing a sleepless night, thinking about all they would receive. And Dorothy eager to go back to Kansas. And they followed the green bearded guard to Oz's throne room and saw nothing. The throne sat empty. I am Oz the Great. And terrible. Why do you seek me? A voice boomed out from the dome above. Where are you? Dorothy looked around, seeing only the throne and ornate screens in the back of the room. She set Toto down and ambled forward. I am everywhere, answered the voice. But to the eyes of common mortals, I am invisible. I now seat myself upon my throne that you may converse with me. There was a pause, then. I am on my throne. Little higher. You're looking at my neck. I can't focus. I feel like I have something on my ne. We've come to claim our promise, dorothy interrupted. What promise? Dorothy blinked. All of them. All the promises. The brains for Scarecrow, the heart for Tin man, courage for the lion, and Kansas for Dorothy. Oh. Oh, oh, oh. That's right. You had to kill the witch, the voice said. We did. She's. She's dead, dorothy replied. I. I killed her With a bucket of water. Wow. Okay, this is sudden. Well, you know. You know what? Come tomorrow, I must have some time to think this over, the disembodied voice said. You've had plenty of time to think it over already. The Tin man stepped forward with his axe. Both Dorothy and Scarecrow insisted that the man keep his promise, but the lion knew that they were beyond words now, but just a little beyond them. They were at roaring, to be specific. He did, and the room shook. It surprised Toto the most. Yelping and jumping, he bumped a screen he had been sniffing at the far end of the room. It wobbled a bit forward, a bit backward, a bit more forward, a bit more backward, until it dropped with a slam. In its place, a little old man with a bald head and a wrinkled face. The Tin Woodman was on it. He raised his axe and rushed the man, demanding to know what this fresh trick was. Who was he? I am Oz the Great and Terrible, said a familiar voice, which sounded like the one that had boomed across the room, but far weaker and whinier. Hands above his head and cowering, the man pleaded with the visitors. Please don't. Don't strike him. He would do anything they wanted him to. Oz. But you're not Oz. Oz is a terrible beast, Nick. The Tin Woodman shook his head. We're a ball of fire, the lion said. Or no. Sorry, you're all mistaken. The little man stepped backwards until his shoulders bumped up against the wall. It was a game I was playing. Make believe. Dorothy, though, was making the connections, and she could feel the tendrils of panic begin to slither up her neck. You're not a wizard, Oz. The little old man pointed. That this is true? Yes. I'm just a man. You're more than that. You're a humbug. The scarecrow pointed. Yes. The old man clapped. I am a humbug. Exactly. How will I get my courage? The lion stood puzzled, and the others began to despair as well. But Oz shook his head. Please, dear friends, don't speak of these little things like hearts and brains and courage in your dreams. Think of me and the terrible trouble I'm in at being found out. No one else knows. Dorothy stepped forward. No one but you four, he said. He had fooled everyone for so long, he thought he might never be found out. He knew it was a great mistake. Dorothy looked to the floor with consternation. At least he could acknowledge that much. Yes, I usually don't let any of my subjects into the throne room, so they keep believing I am great and terrible. That's my great mistake. Letting us in was your great mistake. Not doing it in the first place. Oz laughed. No. Why would I regret that? But Oz was a giant head. Dorothy still couldn't believe it, and that sparked a grin for the old man. Oh, he was. Come here. He showed them how he had managed to deceive all of them. The head was paper mache and he used wires to make it talk. He had trained as a ventriloquist in his youth back in Omaha, and he was decent at it. The ball of fire was a large cotton mass soaked in oil. The beast was a collection of animal skins he wore, and the woman was, well, him in a mask and a dress, looking at everything, and especially the head that in this light was very obviously not a wizard. The party wondered how they had ever been been fooled. You were expecting a wizard who was going to solve all your problems. When you tell people what they want to hear, you don't have to do much to deceive them. They actually end up doing most of the work for you, oz said as they made their way back to the throne room. He told them his story. Like he mentioned, he was born in Omaha, Nebraska, and trained as a ventriloquist, but he grew bored with that, so he became a balloonist. He was a man who went up in the air to draw crowds and get them to visit the circus. One day, though, he went up and never came back down. The ropes were twisted and the gas line busted and he remained aloft far longer than he should have. He would fly until he ran out of fuel, and then he would drift to the earth, praying that it wasn't in the ocean. And it wasn't. He awoke to shouts of awe and wonder coming from the people below this region who saw him descending from the clouds. And you declared yourself to be a wizard? Dorothy asked. Don't be ridiculous. The people were so backward. They certainly didn't have a king named Pastoria, who I deposed because they declared me to be a wizard. I did let them continue to think that because it terrified them and they'd do whatever I wanted. They were in such awe of my power that they willingly constructed this beautiful city and named their entire country after me. Oz laughed. Dorothy said they were scared. Of course. Oz laughed. The fools. Then how are you any different from the witches who enslaved their respective regions? Oz laughed again. The witches used magic to enslave and subjugate. I suggested I had magical powers, or rather didn't correct their misconception that I was a powerful and brutal wizard, and they were so happy to help that they worked for me for free, completely of their own volition. So you lied and made them think you were going to hurt them, and so they worked for you, essentially as slaves. Dorothy didn't have to squint too hard to read between those lines. Oz was growing agitated. No, he did nothing. He said nothing. Then they called him a wizard, and besides, it's on them. They shouldn't have been so easy to deceive. I mean, a city of emerald. But everyone has to wear glasses all the time, and no one thought to put those two things together. Scarecrow pressed the back of his head in so he could slip the glasses off without unlocking them, and found he was in a normal colored room. In fact, it was quite drab. He walked to the window and saw, yes, the towers and walls were green, likely so the city would look emerald from a distance, but the rest of it was normal. I found a problem, though. There was a reason the fools here believed in magic. Oz paced. It's real. The witches? He shook his head. There were two good witches and two wicked witches, which you've met. Good? Dorothy asked. Good as in we came to an agreement and they would do me no harm, the wizard clarified. Those wicked witches, though they were nothing but trouble and they would not let up. The one in the east was worse, Oz said. He grew paranoid that they would come for him, that they would see his immense power as a challenge to their own. Or they would see you for the humbug con artist that you are, dorothy corrected. If you want to be mean and judgy about it, sure, go ahead. But it's Not a good look on you, little girl. Oz spat. His incursion into the west did not go well. After that, he remained in his tower. But Dorothy. Dorothy had changed everything. She killed the one in the east with her house and now the one in the West. The people of Oz were safe now because of her. You mean you are safe now. Dorothy shook her head and Oz smiled with a sigh. Oz Paste. Look, life is about the stories we tell, right now. The story is that you, a visitor from another world, destroyed the greatest evils this land has ever known in mere days. These people, the thunder things, they'll do for you. They willingly place their own diamonds on the doors to my palace and I just came down from the sky in a failing balloon. They will worship you. It's not right. Dorothy looked up. You're a bad man. Oz took a deep breath. I'm a good man. A great man. Ask anyone. I brought peace to this country. Little girl. The thing you have to remember about stories is that they can change in an instant. You're probably thinking, okay, I'll get the truth out that you can help these people be free of me. Oh, the old humbug wizard is deceiving you all. Do you think you can really move faster than me? Than my friends? The Wicked Witches thought so. And they are dust and muck now. Oh, and that cap, the one that summons the monkeys? Well, first, that's her cap. The instant you use that, you've written the end of your story with these people. Because we fought them before. The widows and the orphans of that war still walk the city streets. But remember, we've fought them before. You saw her in the West. Do you think she's the type to turn back willingly if she thought she could take this city? My city? Dorothy was silenced. Look, I've been here nearly my whole adult life. These people, they crave ease. The truth is weird and complicated and hard. But wicked witches are bad and wizards are good. These people, they want this. He gestured to his tower and his paper mache head in the back. They want a great and terrible wizard to tell them their truths on their cushions and their towers so they don't have to try to scrape around in the earth to figure it out for themselves. Freedom. The truth. Those are curses for these poor people. They are children. Left alone, they'll fight and cry and starve. I built a city of emerald where they can eat and sleep and live. They would bludgeon each other to death with the truth. You know what you call me? A con man. A humbug you know what? I'm glad for you. Happy that you can be so naive to look at the world that way, and that you don't have to bear this weight. Because I me. I call it taking responsibility. He paused and softened. I can give you what you seek. All of you. Brains. The Scarecrow looked to him. A baby has brains but doesn't know anything. Experience is the only thing that brings knowledge, and the longer you're on Earth, the more experience you'll get. But yes, I will get you your brains. Courage. The lion stepped forward. Oz said true courage was facing danger when you're afraid, and it sounded like he had done that, but he could see that the lion was unsatisfied with that answer. So, yes, courage. For the life of him, Oz said he couldn't understand why the Tin man wanted a heart, but he could do that as well. And Kansas, dorothy said, face downcast in the middle of the room. Oz walked over to her. He had a way. It would take a few days, but he could only work as long as he was undisturbed. That meant no guards, no investigators, no mobs. If she could just think on what they talked about here for three days. Think on it, but not speak of it, he would have a way for her to get home. That much he could promise. Dorothy swallowed hard, and as she met his eyes, she hated the look of victory that flashed in them when she said she would. She would stay quiet. She wouldn't tell anyone. She just wanted to go home. That's what I thought. Oz smiled and clapped his hands together, reinvigorated. Three days. He shouted as he turned, striding back and kicking open the other door to his workshop. Brain, Heart, Courage in Kansas. Three days. We'll see how the wizard makes good on his promises. But that will be right after this. Dorothy hated the wizard, but she hated herself more. She hated how she had all the power, the truth, an army at her command. But in a conversation he had twisted her until she was complicit in his reign only by using her fear and her desire to go home. She had to keep telling herself that these weren't her people, she just wanted to go home. That the Witch had the Witch have taken her. But would the Witch have taken her if she hadn't crossed into the woman's lands and reignited a conflict she didn't understand? And what was with the Witch of the north saying she had never met the wizard when they clearly had some form of agreement? Dorothy feared she had made everything worse, but she had to cling to one simple truth. She had to get home, and she would apparently do anything to get there. If you'll sit, I need to take your head, the wizard said to the scarecrow. Three days later, the scarecrow consented and his body went slack as the wizard plucked the stitches at his neck and pulled off his head, dropping the straw on the floor. He didn't speak to the others as he worked, pulling out a measure of bran and a container of pins and needles. Mixing the two with a spoon, he he filled the head and stitched it back on. The scarecrow's body sat up straight. Now you'll be a great man. I have given you a lot of brand new brains. The wizard nodded and waved to the tin woodman. Dorothy studied the scarecrow. How did he feel? I feel wise indeed. The man nodded. When I get used to my new brains, I shall know everything. She grimaced at the needles and pins poking out from the top of his head. Why did the wizard do that? As if answering, the lion marveled that the scarecrow was very sharp now, and the wizard winked. The scarecrow said if anyone needed him, he would be at the edge of the room having a think. When Dorothy looked back to the Tin man, the wizard was cutting a hole in his chest with tin shears and he was smiling contentedly. The wizard brought out a heart of silk that was stuffed with sawdust. I not sure what the joke is here or the other meaning, or if there even is one. But it was good enough for the Tin man, who, after his chest was soldered, said he felt so grateful he now had a heart he could be proud of. Now it was the lion's turn for courage. The wizard took off his gloves and said he was well, glad to be done with surgery. Because the lion's request was an easy one. He went to his cupboard and pulled out a bottle, a potion, if you will. He uncorked it and stepped behind a low wall that none had noticed before. He poured the brown liquid in the glass and handed it to the lion. Drink. What is it? The lion sniffed and recoiled. Well, it can't rightly be called courage until it's inside you, the wizard said. The lion sipped it at first and said it burned. The wizard laughed. Compared to the other ways of getting courage, a little burning and coughing was nothing. Drink. So the lion drank and they stood there for a few moments until Oz watched the lion's smile curl. How do you feel now? The wizard asked. Full of courage. The lion roared and bounded back to the group, only stumbling twice Oz asked Dorothy to meet him in his workshop. Whiskey. She shook her head. Needles, so the scarecrow would be sharp. A silk heart. I know what you're doing. So you see what I mean, then, about these people, Oz said. If he could fill a man's head with pins and make him think they were brains and give a lion some liquor and make him think he was courageous, then she could see how easy it would be for the people of this land to fall under the thumb of some dangerous madman. They were lucky he came along. But here was how they were getting home. He gestured to a room full of silk patches. He was rebuilding the balloon, but that wasn't what stuck in Dorothy's mind. How we are getting home, dorothy said. With the witches gone, he was unopposed here. Oz sighed. For now. Until the witches of the north and south got worried that half of the witches in the Land of Oz had been killed in a week. Or now he was getting reports that the rightful heir to the throne of Oz wasn't dead. What if he emerged from wherever he was living in exile to take back his birthright? Or the illusion was shattered when, even with Dorothy gone, those three buffoons out there talked. The three days hadn't been to figure out the solutions. He did that in an hour. They were to weigh his options. The witches, the heir, and the truth. He could handle one, maybe two. Three were dangerous, and for as big a fools as those three were, two of those doofuses were functionally immortal. The witch and the monkeys couldn't kill them. What chance did he think he had? So you win, he said to Dorothy. Part of knowing how to fight was knowing how to retreat, so he would leave the Land of Oz with her. It was tiresome anyway, sitting in this tower all day. It took another three days for Dorothy and Oz to sew the balloon, and when it was done, he painted the inside with a thin glue to seal it. They didn't have gas, but a brazier would do, like in the old days, and a soldier brought a basket and a heap of firewood. Finally, the day came. For the first time in years, Oz the Great and Terrible strode from the castle. My people, oz said, I take this form that your minds can comprehend, for if you saw me in my true power, you would die in awe of me. Dorothy rolled her eyes. I am going away for a time. While I am gone, the Scarecrow shall rule over you, he said, pointing to the scholarly humanoid sackcloth. He lit the fire, and the balloon started to inflate. Oz jumped over into the basket. The Ropes went taut. Dorothy. He commanded. Come with me, dear girl. Your work of ridding this land of evil is done, my child. And you may return with me to the clouds. I can't wait. Where's Toto? The dog had been right here, right at her feet. Oz looked up anxiously. It's just a dog. Leave it here. She could get a new one. He took a lot of diamonds. Dorothy shot him a nasty glance, and she found Toto a few paces off in the crowd as the first of the ropes holding the balloon snapped. No. She said, running for the basket. But when she made it, the next two snapped in quick succession, and though Oz tried to, her fingers slipped from his grasp. Come back. She cried. Please. After everything she had done, she only wanted to go home. I can't. The little man yelled back, and then looked out in the crowd. Goodbye, my children. Tears streamed from eyes gazing upward and dribbled from spectacles as the whole of the Emerald City waved to their leader, the wonderful Wizard Oz. His his balloon disappeared into the clouds. Over the following days, the city mourned the man who had landed in a village and built a city of emeralds, who had destroyed the Wicked Witches and left the wise Scarecrow to rule. Dorothy, though, was forlorn, knowing that now she would never get home. The winged monkeys could not cross the great desert, blocking Oz from the rest of the world, Dorothy learned, burning one of her three uses of the cap. Dorothy did learn, though, of one last hope from the soldier, and that hope had a name, Glinda the Good Witch to the south. At least that's how she was spoken of in the Time of the Wizard. Dorothy scoffed. The Time of the Wizard. Someday it would be the age of the Wizard. He would get a grand statue and be remembered for who they wanted him to be, not who he was. Presumably. If the Witch of the north could have sent Dorothy home, she would have on that day. Now the only one that was left with any knowledge was Glinda the Witch in the south, one of the two Witches left Nas. Her people were the Quadlings, and her country was insular, and very few people traveled north to Oz. Or maybe they weren't permitted to. It's said that a land of strange men, hostile to travelers, separated Oz from the south, just like the vast forest and poppy fields separated Oz from the east. Still, it was the only option Dorothy had of getting back to Kansas. The Scarecrow, though, he just took over a city and had yet to establish any government aside from the sham one he had inherited, built on fear and magic and fear of magic would accompany Dorothy with the lion and the Woodman. Merely a week after they toppled the leader of one region to return and topple the leader of another, they set off again, this time for the South. Does being courageous make anyone else really thirsty and give them a headache in the morning? The lion asked the group as they strode, before remarking that he also didn't remember the sun being so bright. I've heard that's a thing. The woodsman nodded. Dorothy was preoccupied leaving the Emerald City with the trash already beginning to pile in the street, the people pleading with Scarecrow not to be too long on his journey. She was beginning to wonder how bad the wizard Oz he was. Oz, not a wizard. How bad Oz really was. Just then the tin woodsman cried out. Vines snaked up around him as he tried to pass into the forest, and it threw him back. Dorothy took a deep breath. The traveling was annoying enough. Couldn't anything be normal? She hated this land. Scarecrow strode forward as if needing to test what they all just saw with their own eyes, and he too rolled across the grass. They didn't have time for this. Dorothy pointed. Nick. Your axe, nick said. But it was alive. It just didn't want them to pass. He couldn't tire, but he also couldn't chop down a whole living forest. You don't need to chop down the whole forest. Just one. Maybe two. It's not about violence, it's about sending a message, dorothy said, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that told her that she sounded like him. It only took one. In the end. Nick sliced it down the center and it writhed as if in pain, and the other trees parted. One tried to catch Toto, the smallest and easiest prey, but it found its limb dead on the ground. When Nick took care of that one as well, Dorothy scooped up Toto and walked calmly on the new path to the south. They didn't have any more problems in that forest and soon passed into another land where a great wall separated them from going further south. It was smooth and white and glossy. Dorothy pointed back. Nick could build a house, right? The tin Woodman nodded. A good one? No. A great one. Well, then he could build a ladder. She told the scarecrow to help him collect sticks and turning to speak loudly enough for the forest to hear. If a tree gave them any trouble, it could be the ladder. No tree gave them any trouble. After Nick built the ladder, the party went over the wall. Dorothy saw China, and with that she realized what the wall was made out of. Yes, it was a Great Wall of China, if you were wondering. L. Frank Baum was a dad when he wrote the Wonderful wizard of Oz. So that explains this particular joke. They made the trip through the country of people made of China. Once again, no relation to the real world country. They the people were made from China or porcelain. And they only came up to Dorothy's knee and they were incredibly fragile. The group walked through only maiming a cow, injuring a milkmaid and leveling a church. You're just going right in there. Then Dorothy whispered, I'm the king of the beasts, Dorothy. These are my people and they're under attack by a giant spider. The lion said. Soon after they passed out of the land of the people made of China, they found a meeting of the animals, a dire parliament where the animals had to decide how to combat the enemy that had crawled from the mountain caves to begin consuming first the cubs and now the lions and tigers and anything else who fought it. The lion said he would do it. He would kill the giant spider, but in return they would swear fealty to him as king of the beasts. They were totally cool with that. So the lion re upped his courage, padded softly into the clearing where the spider slept. And with some prompting from the others that they could just go around, the lion scoffed. He wasn't a coward, not anymore. So he attacked the spider before it woke up. It was the size of an elephant. But the lion quietly climbed a tree and did a flying elbow drop on the spider's back. An ear splitting screech went through the forest as the spider woke and tried to rise. But there was something broken inside of it. Something would be broken on the outside as well, because the lion sunk the claws of one paw into the creature's back to hold on and. And with his other paw hacked away at its neck. A blue purple spray nearly caught Dorothy and the party crouching on the edge of the clearing. And soon the spider's head rolled free from its body. It was dead. The lion, wiping his paws on a leaf, returned to the cheers of the animals that had been brave enough to follow him to the clearing and witness the massacre of either him or the spider. They were elated that it was the latter and named him their king. He said he still needed to see Dorothy home, but he would return to rule over them. Dorothy used her third and final request for the winged monkeys to carry them over the land of the hammerheads. The group didn't know if it was their actual name, but they had no arms or legs and just hard heads on extendable necks that they shot at anyone who tried to pass into their land. That was the last time you could summon us, the king of the flying monkeys said, and was gone nearly as quickly as Dorothy could say thank you. Now they were in the land of the Quadlings, ruled by Glinda, the Good Witch of the South. The Quadlings in their red houses seemed well fed and contented, and the land was manicured and meticulously tended after the nothing of the west and the deteriorating yellow brick road of the East. This was nice. So were the people who pointed the way to the Castle of Glinda, and soon they stood before the gate, where they met three soldiers dressed in red. Three soldiers who were younger than Dorothy. Why have you come to the south country? The one in the middle asked. Dorothy looked left and right. Was there an adult here, or did the Good Witch use child soldiers? Whatever, she stated why they had come. They came to see Glinda. The girls took Dorothy's name and after a quick check, admitted them at once. Glinda was everything Dorothy imagined a Good Witch, eternally young and beautiful, with rich red hair that fell in beautiful, beautiful ringlets and a startlingly white dress that seemed to glow. Her soft, sonorous voice wafted through the room, punctuated only by her bemused smile that seemed to border on condescending. Dorothy got the impression that the woman was so powerful that even concepts like good and bad could be decided with the flick of her wand. She also noticed no buckets of water at hand. For better or worse, Dorothy told of all that had transpired of the cyclone and the witches of the east and west, and of Oz's flight. Glynda didn't seem surprised that Oz was a seedy little con man and a proto authoritarian. In the end, though, she did seem surprised that he had left. Now Dorothy needed to beg one thing of the Good Witch home. She wanted to leave this land and return to Kansas. She couldn't imagine Aunt Em morninging over her, mainly because Uncle Henry couldn't afford to lose the help on the farm. I know how you can get back to your Kansas, glinda said. Dorothy's quick elation was tempered by the fact that nothing and no one in the land of Oz was what they seemed. The Wicked Witch wasn't completely evil. Oz was neither totally great nor terrible. And Glinda, as she would see with the next sentence, was, was not completely good. Dorothy sighed and nodded she knew, and waited for Glinda to ask in return. I need the golden cap, she said. Sure she handed the woman the cap. The Land of Oz was a mad scramble for power, and the cap was a tool. A tool that was of no use to Dorothy. And in the past few weeks, she had done worse things in order to get home. Glinda turned and, addressing each of the party members, asked what they would do after Dorothy went home. The Scarecrow would return to the Emerald City to rule the lion to his subjects in the forest. And the Tin Woodman actually had a soft spot for the Winkies in the West. He had many a conversation with them as they repaired him, and he might return there to see how he could help them rebuild and be a gentle ruler with a heart. Glinda nodded and put on the cap. She did the dance, though when she did it, it didn't seem quite so ridiculous. And the monkeys showed up to their new mistress. Oh, good. Another witch. Glinda said she would use her three commands at once here. When Dorothy was gone, they were to take the Scarecrow to the Emerald City, the Lion to the forest, and the Tin Woodman to the castle in the West. This uses up all your commands at once. Certainly you realize that the King of the Flying Monkeys was confused. I know. But then the crown will pass to another, and you will need to do their bidding. Forever. The woman stated. And the Flying Monkey said yes. He was aware. So Glynda took off the cap and. And handed it to its new owner, the King of the Flying Monkeys. His paw shook as he held the item that had kept him in bondage since the time of his grandfather. You're free. Free forevermore. Glinda smiled. Dorothy realized that she was crying. She had to wipe away a tear, not just for the monkeys, but because Glinda truly was a good witch. Now for your parting. Glinda turned to Dorothy and pointed toward the shoes on her feet. The silver shoes she had taken from the feet of the Witch of the east and the Witch of the west had sought. If only she had known their power. Those would take her wherever she wished to go. Dorothy looked down. What? Yes. You only need to knock your heels together three times and they can carry you anywhere in the world. With three steps. Glinda gestured. So I could have just gone straight to Oz, straight to the west, and then straight here. Dorothy worked through her journey in her head, and then her eyes widened. No. She could have just gone straight home the moment she landed. But she looked to her friends. The Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Lion. Even the flying monkeys. If she had left the moment she arrived, the Scarecrow would still be on a fence post, the Tin Woodman still frozen in the forest and the lions still cowering. The monkeys would still be under the thrall of the cap, and the people of Oz still under the thumb of a con man. The Winkies of the west were free as well as the Munchkins in the East. And though she was unsure of how much their respective witches wickedness was the wizard's spin, she knew the people were happier with the witches gone. And for as much as she said she hated this country, seeing Glinda use the cap and free the monkeys, well, it didn't restore her faith in humanity or whatever an immortal, ageless witch was. But it showed her another way. That someone didn't have to be like Oz to rule. So Dorothy was glad her friends flew to her. The soft fur of the lion was matted with tears, and the Tin man was already starting to rust underneath his eyes. The three of them hugged the girl. The king of the flying monkeys gave her a solemn nod. And Glinda, to bookend the witch in the north, kissed Dorothy's forehead. Sobbing, Dorothy scooped Toto in her arms and smiled. Goodbye, friends, she said, clicking her heels together three times. She said, take me home to Aunt Em. The first step. In an instant pulled from a window. The ground in the castle and the lands of the south shrank beneath her. She saw in the distance the City of Emeralds, the Witch's castle, her old house overgrown in the east. The second step. She was over the desert in an instant. It was hot and dangerous, and nothing lurked on its sands below. The winds were strong and she had to hold onto Toto for fear of losing him. The third step. Dorothy hit the ground and rolled with Toto, jumping free before she tumbled over him. She sat up and found what she already knew to be true. She was in her stockings in the desert winds. When she was gripping Toto, the shoes came free and fell. They were lost forever, but that didn't matter. Dorothy rose before a grand new farmhouse on a plot of land she barely recognized. Toto ran toward the barn, barking. The front door clanged and the cabbages Em was carrying hit the ground and rolled. Dorothy, where did you come from? We thought you were dead. Aunt Em looked the girl over, wearing her blue and white gingham dress. This didn't make sense. It had been weeks. Dorothy looked up to her aunt with a smile, saying that she came from the land of Oz, but oh, she was so glad to be home again. In my head canon the shock and loss of Dorothy changed the lives of Em and Henry, showing them something they knew but they had forgotten. Life was precious and it was short. Em talked to Henry about her unhappiness and Henry softened. Insurance paid for a new house and they reconnected. Despite their grief, they still had to work, and Em spent time with him in the fields and he spent time with her in the house, and Dorothy returned to a life utterly changed. They had mourned her and regretted treating her, their adopted daughter, as at best an annoyance and at worst a servant, and vowed not just to change should they get the chance, but most of all to live. I think it's supported because Dorothy's next book opens with she and Henry on a trip to Australia, and Em and Henry eventually moved to the land of Oz. This one was fun because it started serious, veered hard into myths and legends. Lol. Look how weird the story is. But came back when I tried to make the Wizard a convincing character. I maybe leaned a little hard into the wizard as an authoritarian trope, but I liked it. There are many interpretations of the story where people try to read into what it could be an allegory for for me, I personally do not care for allegories. I do think that allegories, in an attempt to add more to stories actually kind of flatten them out. I don't think the wizard is representative of politicians, capitalism, or, oddly enough, late 19th century, early 20th century monetary policy and gold versus silver debates. I just think he's an authoritarian con man. Or that the Wicked Witch of the west was representative of the American west and its harsh conditions. Or that the Witch of the east is a monopolistic industry that crushes its workers. I think there's enough in the story to explore the characters as they are and speculate on their inner lives and motivations and how the events of the story affect them personally. I think it's more interesting to explore the effects the conman Oz has on Dorothy's personality and actions as she grapples with the idea that everyone ruling the land has ulterior motives and seeks power at all costs, and then see how Glinda's demonstrative goodness could upend that assumption, showing growth and nuance in a young girl's understanding of the world. To me, that's way more fascinating than saying Oz represents scheming politicians and capitalists, Dorothy the naive American public, and Glinda the moral ideals we should strive for. Though, as I said all that, I realize I'm saying the same things, but just with different words. Anyway, that's my soapbox. And that's the season. It was a fun one with only one missed week. A new 2020record for us. Really. Thank you so much for your support and patience and your love of the show and these stories. I won't make promises as to when Fictional is coming back, but I can never really stay away, even when I'm tired of it. I'll get an idea for a take on a story, blink and I'll have written a season opener. In the meantime, if somehow you didn't know, we have another podcast, Myths and Legends, where we do this, but with slightly more irreverence. Also from Myths and Legends, we have a book coming out next year. Fictional is by Jason and Carissa Weiser. Our theme song is by Breakmaster Cylinder. Today's story was adapted from from the Wonderful wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. Thank you so much for your patience and for listening and we will see you next time.