Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Monkeys keep flying into the window...

It's not a good sign, let me tell you that. Misfortune awaits me, as once again, I seem to be the enemy of a witch. As I was thinking about whom I had pissed off recently, and if they were a witch or not, the doorbell rung. It always rings. For someone so awful, I seem to get a lot of guests, and I'm sure I'll enjoy that when I'm elderly and in a home. But for now, it's annoying. So very annoying.
 Opening the door, I found four unusual figures: A scarecrow, a tin man, a lion and a teenage girl. Of course, I'm used to each of these as visitors, but I've never seen them all together before.
 "Sup?" I asked unenthusiastically.
  "Please help us!" They chimed as one, "We each have problems that, as fictional moral lessons, can easily be resolved by our joined endeavours"
 "Really? So what... you're metafictional then?"
 "What? I'm a Scarecrow..." Began the member of the group who was stuffed with straw. "And I have no brain. Please help."
 "Scarecrows shouldn't talk." I replied, "And you don't need a brain to scare crows."
With that, I set fire to him, like some sort of fire-spewing thing. Seemingly unphased with this, the tin man began to talk:
 "Sir, as a tin man, I have no heart"
 "Well, that's no problem." I replied. I knew that keeping all those pig's hearts in the fridge was a good idea. Of course, my friends and families had worried about me, but they'd be worrying on the other sides of their face now.
 "And you, Mr. Lion?"
 "I am a coward..." He shook nervously.
 "Well, that's not a problem either!" I chimed happily. "Just come in, enroll in my comprehensive psychological hardening programme. Once you're finished, your killing sprees will make Vietnam look like an ice-cream castle."
 My mind preoccupied with the idea of tiny, jelly-baby soldiers on mint choc-chip battlements, I almost forgot about the girl who, after a polite cough, introduced herself as Dorothy.
 "And your problem?"
 "Well, you see, I want to go home."
 "Ah, but you had the power to go home any time you wanted. Just follow my instructions."
 Thus, she duly began by closing her eyes, tapping her heels together three times and chanting "There's no place like home." While she was doing this, I threw a sack over her head, and locked her in the basement. There'd be a handsome ransom in this for me... Yes, that was another day's honest work over. It's nice to know, at the end of the day, that you made some difference in the word.
 Even if it wasn't for the best.



well. you sir, are an original.

what about the dog though? toto.

thanks for visiting me and following me at the crib

Paul Blanchard said...

Hmm, good point, don't know how I forgot that...
I suppose I could eat him...

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