Mystery of the Missing Parents

By Dennis Sanchez

Wooden puppet children seek the help of detectives, Dorothy, blind Scarecrow, and his seeing eye dog, Toto, in finding their missing parents that were carved into self-lighting Greek god candlesticks. Their travels take them from Italy to the belly of the Whale Inn in New Bedford, England where an uproarious confrontation takes place with pirates of the Caribean.

 

After Dorothy and Toto returned to Kansas, Tin Woodman was left in charge of the Winkies in the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West after she was dissolved. One day, in the woods, Tin Wooden comes across a tree and hears voices in it. The voices explain they are a family by name of Cottonwood. Realizing the voices are parents and three children, a girl, and two boys, Tim Wooden decides to free them from the tree by chopping them into five logs. A cyclone scoops up the logs and carries them to Italy where a sculptor carves the children into wooden puppets and the parents into self-lightening Greek god candlesticks. When the parents go missing, the children seek the help of detectives, Dorothy, blind Scarecrow, and his seeing-eye dog, Toto, in finding their parents. Their travels take them from Italy to the belly of the Whale Inn in New Bedford, England. There they come across Lion and Tin Woodmen. What follows is an uproarious confrontation with pirates of the Caribbean in the belly of the wooden Whale Inn.After Dorothy and Toto returned to Kansas, Tin Woodman was left in charge of the Winkies in the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West after she was dissolved. One day, in the woods, Tin Wooden comes across a tree and hears voices in it. The voices explain they are a family by name of Cottonwood. Realizing the voices are parents and three children, a girl, and two boys, Tim Wooden decides to free them from the tree by chopping them into five logs. A cyclone scoops up the logs and carries them to Italy where a sculptor carves the children into wooden puppets and the parents into self-lightening Greek god candlesticks. When the parents go missing, the children seek the help of detectives, Dorothy, blind Scarecrow, and his seeing-eye dog, Toto, in finding their parents. Their travels take them from Italy to the belly of the Whale Inn in New Bedford, England. There they come across Lion and Tin Woodmen. What follows is an uproarious confrontation with pirates of the Caribbean in the belly of the wooden Whale Inn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis Sanchez
• Release date: Feb 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393932291

Dennis Sanchez

Dennis Sanchez was born and raised in Los Angeles and has remained a resident since. He received his BA in Communications from California State University, Fullerton, where he focused on journalism, film, and television production, and stop-motion animation. As a senior in college, he received the Student Editing Award from the Hollywood chapter of the American Cinemas Editors Guild and spent his internship on the set of Little House on the Prairie at Paramount Studios. Now retired, he concentrates his energy on fiction, both humorous and serious content. Email: [e-mail]

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Contents

A FOREST TO BE WHACKED

MURMURS IN THE WOOD

HUNGER WITH A SIDE OF CONSCIENCE

GREEK GODS

MISSING

SLEUTH, GUMSHOE & HOUND

CLUELESS

LITTLE SHOP OF HOARDS OF STUFF

MOORS OF DARTMOOR

NANTUCKET

NEW BEDFORD AND THE WHALE INN

REUNION

I don’t understand any of this.l

-—Miss Piggy, (The Muppet Movie)

A FOREST TO BE WHACKED

I have an ax to grind, but no wood to chop, Tin Woodman bemoaned, pressing his tin hand over his tin chest where the Wizard had inserted a soft heart. I am so downhearted, now that I possess a nice, soft heart that can be let down.

When he was not ordering the Winkies about, an easy task for they had no minds of their own, one would often find Tin Woodman gazing longingly out the castle window at the great forest that lay far beyond. Although he enjoyed being the ruler of the Winkies, he had an overwhelming desire to be out in the forest chopping wood.

Tim Smith the tinsmith, who stood behind him polishing his back with a cloth and a tin of polish, said, Sir, we have long ago burnt our entire stockpile of wood. Since you declared that only you, the Supreme Tin Woodman, can chop wood, it has hindered our ability to replenish our supply. As a consequence, we’ve had to rely on the sacrifices of Winkies to flame our stoves and warm the castle.

I gave the order because chopping wood is my profession and hobby, Tin Woodman smiled with pride. No one whacks a tree better than me and whacking trees should be left only to professionals.

That may be so, agreed Tim Smith. But we Winkies are too soft and messy when split to make kindling. Besides, we don’t burn very well. Don’t you think it is time that you took time to venture out into those woods beyond and do some whacking for the good of all?

Tin Woodman rested his tin chin on his tin fist and replied, What will you Winkies do while I’m gone? After all, you had done nothing but sit on your Winkie bottoms until I returned from seeing Dorothy and Toto off to Kansas. If I had not chosen to be your ruler, the entire land of the Winkies would be covered with cobwebs and dust for lack of motivation and leadership.

You have such a soft heart, Tim Smith sighed. However, if you had a real nose to smell with, you would be aware that burnt Winkies do not emit a pleasant odor. We Winkies would rather smell the gratifying aroma of burnt wood over the familiar scent of our relatives and acquaintances.

Tin Woodman gazed at the far woods that seemed so far away. Do you really think I can leave the castle unattended, even for a short time? he asked, hopefully.

Oh, most certainly, Tim Smith spoke almost too eagerly.

But you will be without a ruler.

I think we can work out something in your absence.

The other Winkies will not object?

If your departure helps to end our diminishing numbers, I cannot see why anyone would.

Tin Woodman, who was sitting down at the time, sprang to his feet, his soft heart swelling with joy. I will get my ax out of here this very moment!

With his sharpened ax held proudly over his shoulder, Tin Woodman marched excitedly past the multitude of Winkies who were there to see him off. The Winkies cheered, waved, showered him with flower petals, and wished him well. However, as soon as Tin Woodman was outside of the castle walls, they slammed the gate shut behind him, locked it, and barricaded it with every large object within reach.

Tin Woodman stopped and looked back when he heard the furor of activity; pounding and hammering erupting behind the castle gate. Curious as to what caused all the commotion, he turned back and attempted to open the gate, but it would not budge. Then a great silence and stillness fell behind the castle walls. Tin Woodman put his tin ear to the gate but heard nothing. He knocked several times but received no answer. He pounded with his fists and then the backside of his ax and still no response. He thought for a moment about using his ax to chop the gate down, but the alluring woods and the prospect of whacking them to pieces were much too strong. He dismissed whatever the Winkies were up to, and started off again, his soft heart pounding with anticipation and his razor-sharp ax blade gleaming under the bright sun.

For days on end, Tin Woodman whacked, whacked, whacked at every tree in sight. He did not stop because he never grew tired or hungry and since he neither ate nor drank there was no reason for him to make a pit stop. Therefore, all potential pits in the vicinity remained un-pitted.

When Tin Woodman had pretty much deforested the forest and countless log pyramids overshadowed the stumps they had derived from, he turned to one tree that had eluded him. It remained curiously far removed from what was left of the forest. Even far removed from what was right of the forest. Tin Woodman, taking up his ax, turned to the tree and was just about to swing when the tree’s limbs shook in his face and he heard a voice cry out.

Don’t you whack us, a manly voice roared from one large branch of the tree. We don’t take kindly to being split apart.

We? Tin Woodman asked, not surprised at all that the tree spoke. You’re just one tree. That’s singular.

On the contrary, replied a matronly voice from another large branch. Within these branches, our family resides.

Foolishness, Tin Woodman grumbled heartily.

A man made of tin is foolishness, the manly voice barked back. Now a man made of wood is another matter entirely. More so if the matter of the man is entirely wood.

Or woman, the matronly voice injected sweetly.

Yes, Mama, the manly voice sighed in agreement.

Tin Woodman appeared stumped, which was ironic since he was whole and, other than this annoying tree, all else around him were, well, stumps. He tapped his golden ax handle on the tin palm of one hand thinking. I don't see any faces so how can you see me?

We don't, but we hear you and we’ve heard the pitiful cries of the trees you whacked, the manly voice explained.

Tin Woodman thought for a long moment. Maybe I shouldn't whack you. It would dishearten me to split up a family.

Suddenly, from a small branch, a boyish voice called out, Please whack us apart. I want to be free to do as I please.

I want to travel the world, a girlish voice from another small branch sighed wistfully, and visit all the great forests.

I want to light matches and start fires, a third small branch chuckled in another boyish voice.

You do and I’ll have your ash for this, young sapling, the matronly voice roared angrily at the last voice.

You are a family tree, Tin Woodman concluded.

We hang together like leaves on a tree, said the original voice that Tin Woodman surmised was the patriarch of the family.

The younger voices implored, I want to make like a tree and leave.

I want to stretch my limbs.

I want to sprout elsewhere.

Suddenly the sky grew very dark and the wind picked up. Tin Woodman looked up into the sky and saw a swirling, dark funnel cloud descending toward him. A cyclone, he gasped. I better return to the castle at once.

Whew! the elder voice of the family tree sighed in relief.

Ah crud, the younger voices grumbled. We’re rooted here forever.

Tin Woodman, remembering back when he was a young human lad who felt the desire to break from family ties and explore the world, decided that this tree needed a good whacking so that the young saplings could go free. He swung his ax swiftly, whack, whack, whack until the limbs fell from the trunk of the tree into five individual logs. He then took off back to the castle as fast as his tin legs would carry him, leaving the five logs scattered on the ground.

From the ground, the two larger logs, about three feet long, cried out for each other.

Mama, where are you?

Over here, Papa. Way, way over here.

The three smaller logs, between one and a half to just over two feet long, cheered their freedom.

Free at last, they sang. Free at last.

The smaller logs’ elation quickly dimmed once they realized that, since they lacked moveable limbs, they were unable to do anything but lay there.

Ah, now what?

Do you have a plan?

No. How about you?

Got a match?

The cyclone swooped down across the land sucking up everything in its path, including the pyramids of stacked wood and the five disjointed family tree logs. The cyclone, now with a multitude of logs swirling within it, rose back into the sky and started for the castle right behind Tin Woodman.

When the cyclone reached Tin Woodman, it slowed and, either by design or by accident, let loose logs of various sizes and pelted and walloped Tin Woodman viciously with log after log, battering and denting his tin body and knocking him face down in the dirt.

The cyclone moved on again until it was directly over the castle. There, it stopped and hovered while depositing the remaining logs. The exception was the five family tree logs, which, for some reason, it held onto. The Winkies cheered and rejoiced now they had something other than each other to fuel their fires. They were so grateful for this welcome, but unexpected gift, they even reconsidered and let Tin Woodman back into the castle where he could remain as their beloved leader. At least until they ran out of wood again.

With its load lessened to the five terrified and complaining logs of the family tree, the cyclone rose higher and higher, leaving the Land of Oz behind, and headed over the vast ocean to the European continent.

MURMURS IN THE WOOD

Master sculptor of wood and an artful painter Miguel had barely stepped out of his shop when the sky grew dark and the wind picked up, blowing hard over the land. Believing it might rain, he returned to the shop for his umbrella, then came back out and popped it open. He swung it over his head just as a dark, swirling funnel cloud appeared directly overhead