For Those Who Came In Late: Billy and Marisa have cured eight of the ten Story Plagues unleashed in Alliance, and have collected eight of the ten clues to help them guess the identity of the mysterious villain behind the whole mess. Crossing College Street, they realize that the red bricks beneath their bikes have turned to yellow.
***
We were so busy staring at the yellow brick road that we didn’t see the flying monkeys.
One moment, Marisa and I were standing in the middle of College Street, and the next we were flying through the air, carried by hairy little chimps with wings. One of the monkeys had Marisa, one had me, and a smaller monkey held poor Pluto, our cat. They banked left at the intersection of College Street and Miller Avenue, then soared skyward toward Chapman Hall.
“Billy!” Marisa screamed. “Do something!” That’s when I remembered that my smarty-pants cousin was afraid of heights. Heck, she hadn’t even graduated to the big rides at Six Flags or Cedar Point, and here she was hurtling through the sky with nothing but an airborne wannabe-gorilla to protect her.
“Stop your squirming,” said the monkey holding Marisa, “or I’ll just have to drop you!”
To my right, I heard an unfamiliar voice shout, “Hold on tight, Toto!” Sure enough, the monkey beside me was carrying a brown-haired little girl in a blue dress and silver shoes. Except for the hair-color, she reminded me of Alice, whom we’d met along with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare earlier that day. But of course, this wasn’t Alice – it was Dorothy Gale, blown all the way from Kansas to Oz, or Alliance, as it turned out.
The monkey next to Dorothy was carrying a little black dog: the famous Toto. Toto was trying desperately to bite the monkey on his back, but couldn’t get his teeth within chewing range. Flying next to Toto was still another monkey, this one carrying a full sized lion. The Cowardly Lion, of course!
We made one last pass over the Mount Union campus, then circled Chapman Hall. The monkeys landed on the roof of the building, which seemed a lot larger than it appeared from the ground. Actually, the whole building was starting to look bigger and more like a castle, another example of the Plague changing the town to suit whatever story we were caught in.
In the middle of the roof stood an old woman dressed all in black, carrying an umbrella in one hand. She ordered the monkeys to put us down. As she squinted our way, I noticed that she had only one eye. She didn’t look exactly like the Wicked Witch of the West, but I guess that’s because I was used to the Hollywood version. “Well, well,” she cackled, “I see that you’ve found some friends, Dorothy!”
Poor Dorothy backed up to the edge of the roof, terrified of the old woman. Toto ran forward barking. Pluto just hissed. If he felt any kinship with the old witch because, like him, she had only one eye, he sure didn’t show it. The Cowardly Lion let loose with a loud roar that sent the monkeys skittering away but didn’t scare the witch in the least.
“I want those shoes of yours!” the witch cackled, moving closer to Dorothy.
Marisa slid to my side. “Where are Dorothy’s ruby slippers?” she asked.
“In the book, her shoes are silver,” I answered, glancing back and forth between the advancing witch and Dorothy’s footwear. Marisa looked at me, shocked. I grinned. “I learned that from watching Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, not from reading any book.”
“I might’ve known,” she said.
Meanwhile, the witch continued to threaten Dorothy. “Give me those shoes, or I’ll turn my monkeys loose on you!” The monkeys shifted on their feet and flapped their wings threateningly. The witch gloated. “They took care of your friends – ripped the straw out of that silly scarecrow and threw The Tin Woodsman on some sharp rocks. And they’ll take care of you, too, unless you give me those shoes!”
The witch was staring straight down at Dorothy, both hands outstretched like claws over her head. The frightened girl was shaking and crying, only one step away from throwing herself over the edge of Chapman Hall to escape!
“Oh, won’t somebody do something?” the lion groaned, wringing his tail.
That was enough for me. I looked around and saw a bucket of water nearby, presumably used by the monkeys to drink. Breaking free from my simian guard, I grabbed the bucket and slid it across the roof to Dorothy. “Douse her with this!” I ordered.
I don’t know where Dorothy found the courage, but she managed to pick up the bucket and hurl the water at the witch before the startled old woman had a chance to stop her.
Even though I’ve never read The Wizard of Oz, I hoped the water would have the same effect that it did in the movie. I wasn’t disappointed. When the liquid touched the witch’s skin, she sizzled like a steak in a skillet. Her face began to collapse inward, and she moaned horribly.
“See what you’ve done!” she muttered. “I’m melting away into nothing!” She was getting shorter and shorter, the bottom of her black dress billowing out in front of her as she sank. Toto circled her, barking.
Dorothy was horrified. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” she kept repeating, covering her eyes with her hands. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know!”
“It’s okay,” said Marisa, rushing to her side and pulling her away from the edge of the roof. “It had to happen. It’s all part of the story.”
Dorothy looked confused by that, so I slashed my hand horizontally across my throat, giving Marisa the universal gesture for Cut it! Instead of confusing her any further, we introduced ourselves as residents of a remote corner of Oz.
Just then, the largest of the monkeys scampered over. “The Wicked Witch has been destroyed!” he said, and if a monkey could smile, he did. “We are no longer her servants!”
I was surprised to learn that the flying monkeys were actually a very nice group. The tallest monkey – their king, actually – explained that the wicked witch controlled them through the use of a golden cap, which granted each wearer the power to command the monkeys three times. Since Dorothy had killed the witch, she had now earned the right to use the cap, which we found lying in the middle of the puddle that used to be the wicked witch.
“Wonderful,” said Dorothy, wringing the cap dry. “I want you to take the Lion and me to find the Scarecrow and the Tinman. Would you two like to come?”
“No, thank you,” Marisa answered. “But we sure could use a ride to our house!”
Within moments we were airborne again. The monkeys flew us back to our bicycles, which were leaning against the curb on College Street. Then they lifted our bikes and us into the sky, heading westward toward Parkway Avenue and my house. After depositing Marisa, Pluto and me in my front yard, they flew off again, waving as they went.
“Goodbye,” Dorothy yelled down to us. “If you’re ever in Kansas, stop by!”
We waved back. The Lion roared his farewells, and then they were gone. In the blink of an eye they disappeared - another Story Plague cured!
As Marisa and I headed for my front door, we opened the old book for our latest clue. I made a queen of the miller’s daughter was written in the margin next to The Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum.
Just then I sneezed twice; my summer cold was getting worse.
“Come on,” I sniffled, “I think it’s time for a break.” Little did I know that the biggest Story Plagues were yet to come.
To Be Continued
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