The Lost Wizard of Oz

By Williams Page

The not so "Great and Powerful" Wizard of Oz has just left the Emerald City, leaving poor Dorothy behind. On his way back to Kansas, the balloon fails, and he crashes into the poisonous desert surrounding the Land of Oz.

After he's gone, Glinda d

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Williams
• Release date: Apr 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869327215

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The Lost Wizard of Oz

By

Page Williams

Copyright © 2024 by William L. Page

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the publisher’s express written permission except for using brief quotations in a book review.

To my wife, Cindy, and all the other Glindas out there that make the world a better place.

Acknowledgment

Honoring and expanding the wonderful world created by L. Frank Baum.

The Lost Wizard of Oz follows the storyline in Mr. Baum’s original work, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. I have kept the original characters and important features intact. For example, Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, not the North. The Good Witch of the North is Glinda’s younger sister. She is the one Dorothy meets when she first crash lands in Munchkin Land and who helps her on her way. The magic slippers are silver, not ruby, as they appear in the movie.

Of course, I have added several new characters I think Mr. Baum would have loved."

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: Cleaning House

Chapter Two: Poppies Will Do

Chapter Three: With the Winkies

Chapter Four: The Emerald City

Chapter Five: Negotiations

Chapter Six: Mombi

Chapter Seven: Dinner with the Gnomes

Chapter Eight: The Queen’s Palace

Chapter Nine: The House that wasn’t in the Forest

Chapter Ten: The Queen’s Spy Master

Chapter Eleven: The Green Rider

Chapter Twelve: Patching Up the Magic

Chapter Thirteen: Into the Darkness

Chapter Fourteen: Horseshoes and Humbug

Chapter Fifteen: God of Earth

Chapter Sixteen: Prisoner of the Gnomes

Chapter Seventeen: The Vanity Of A God

Chapter Eighteen: Dark Passages

Chapter Nineteen: About the Bridge

Chapter Twenty: Out of the Pit

Chapter Twenty-One: Duel

Chapter Twenty-Two: The God of Earth Rises

Chapter Twenty-Three: Back on the Wizard’s Trail

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Last

Chapter Twenty-Five: Further In

Chapter Twenty-Six: Fire and Water

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Glinda holds Court

Epilogue: Five hundred years earlier

Prologue

The Wizard watched in dismay as Dorothy chased Toto into the crowd. He tried frantically to halt the balloon’s ascent but couldn’t stop it from rising into the sky as he left the little girl and her dog behind. Just one more failed promise. Everyone in Oz assumed the Wizard’s balloon sailed up into the air, across the poisonous desert surrounding the Land of Oz, and into Kansas, wherever that was…but they were wrong.

This is the Wizard’s story.

Chapter One: Cleaning House

What is that smell? Glinda cupped her hand over her face, trying to block out the horrible stench. It didn’t work. Fighting the urge to gag, she tossed a glance at her bodyguards, who looked back at her quizzically, a little confused.

What smell, Highness? The older of the two asked, looking around the room.

Is this where it happened? It must be. This place makes my skin crawl.

The big man’s eyes searched the room, looking for the cause of her distress. Then it came to him. Yes, Highness, this is where the Good Witch Dorothy slew the Witch of the West. She melted her down right over there. Dumped water on her and washed the wicked one all away. You can still see the stain the monster left on the stones.

Glinda concentrated on the mess. Amateurs always complicate things. Oh, Dorothy, she sighed. What have you done? The floor was not well sealed. Water must have seeped down through the cracks between the stones. Down where? She wondered.

She had not bargained for this. What’s underneath this room? She asked, not taking her eyes off the stain.

Had she been looking at the guard, she would have seen him getting worried. There is a dungeon, Highness. It’s a very foul and dark place. Do you need to see it? It may not be safe.

Touched by his concern, she reached out and gently placed her tiny hand on his forearm. The Winkies were loyal, good, and kind. Guilt gnawed at her. These people had suffered under that evil woman for years, and she had failed to deliver them. Roderick, isn’t it?

Yes, Highness. I was the captain of her guard, a dubious honor at best. And this is Jonas, also a member of her guard. Now, we hope to serve you. Do you need an escort to the dungeon, my lady? I can call for more men.

Yes, Roderick. I have to see the dungeon, but I need to finish up here first. While I’m working, I’ll need you to bring me a long, strong rope. But don’t bring any more men. The two of you will do fine, I’m sure. No need to put anybody else in harm’s way, she thought.

Roderick nodded but did not leave. Instead, he glanced at Jonas, who immediately trotted off, presumably to procure the requested item. Plainly, he intended to stay and maintain his vigil over her while she worked. She smiled to herself. It was a typical reaction. Older men tended to view her as a daughter who needed a father’s protection.

Glinda was over 500 years old but maintained the appearance of a young woman in the full bloom of youthful beauty. Roderick looked about forty, roughly the age her father would look if she were only as old as she looked. He even had red hair, though hers was a glossy, flaming scarlet, while his was dull and streaked with gray. Stay with me, please. I may need you.

Withdrawing her hand from his arm, she turned reluctantly to face the unpleasant task before her and knelt down next to the foul stain on the kitchen floor. She ignored the discomfort of the hard flagstones digging into her knees and concentrated on the unclean aura emanating from the blemish Roderick had pointed out. She began to chant in a singsong murmur, softly at first, uncertainly, almost probing. Gradually, she was able to pick out patterns in the mark on the floor, and her song became more confident, more focused, and precise. Her hair began to glow, keeping time with the rhythm of her chant.

In response, the stain on the floor seemed to move, matching her song and hair. It bubbled and steamed, lifting itself out of the rock. She waved her hand slowly over the spot, scooping the mist into her palm, luring it into her body. She moaned slightly as her skin absorbed the poison. Roderick gasped in dismay, watching her delicate white skin break into a rash. Little open sores erupted on her flesh, oozing yellow puss. Her breath came out in painful gasps as she fought to maintain her focus. Still, she kept singing.

Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, and her skin regained its silky whiteness. She sagged a little from the effort and felt Roderick kneel down beside her, putting his arm around her protectively. Are you all right, child? He asked.

I’m fine. Just a little dizzy. But unless I miss my guess, I’m about to get much worse.

*****

Glinda and Roderick stood together at the top of the stairs that led down to the dungeon. Foul and dark didn’t begin to describe it. The other Winkie, Jonas, stood behind the pair, looking fearfully into the blackness below.

Highness, ventured Roderick. Perhaps you should rest awhile before attempting this. You must be tired from your labors. Your strength may fail you.

She exhaled wearily. No. I have to do this now. She knows I’m here. She’ll be waiting, preparing. I can’t afford to give her any more time to get ready for me.

She lives, then?

Oh, yes. I’m afraid she does. At least parts of her are still here. I can feel it. She’s been feeding on the squalid refuse seeping down through the cracks in the floor above. No telling when the last time this place was cleaned, if ever. No doubt she’s been down there trying to pull herself together. We have to make sure she doesn’t succeed.

The stench was awful, the blackness nearly complete. Roderick held up his torch. The dark fungus growing on the floor, walls and ceiling seemed to swallow up the light. Glinda wore a long belt of rubies around her waist[1]. It fastened on the left side, the excess hanging down to her knees. Looking into the gloom, she reached down with her left hand and grasped the loose end of the belt. As she absently rubbed a gem between her thumb and forefinger, the Good Witch muttered a few words, and her right hand began to glow, dimly at first, then more brightly. She held it over her head and focused the light down into the pit before her. Oz! She cried, Is it moving? There did, indeed, appear to be something wriggling around beneath the surface. Her stomach churned as she fought down the dread she felt. This was going to hurt.

Dowsing her light for a moment, she took the rope from Jonas and tied one end of it around her slender waist, securing it with a simple knot. The other end she gave to Roderick. Then she reached down to the hem of her flowing white gown and tucked it into her belt so that her calves and ankles were exposed. She slipped off her delicate slippers and faced Roderick squarely, looking up into the big man’s worried eyes. If I collapse, or fall into this mess, you must pull me out as quickly as you can. Do you understand?

The man nodded dumbly. Yes, Highness, he muttered, sounding not quite sure of himself.

Dear friend, she continued, You must understand. If I am overcome, that poisonous soup will devour me, leaving nothing more than a smelly, blistered carcass. Only you will be able to save me. Promise me you will not falter if it comes to that.

Roderick’s eyebrows knit together. We shall not fail you, Highness.

How fatherly he seemed. She wondered about his wife and children. They would be a very lucky family. Not for the first time, she felt the bitterness of her own sterile life rise within her. Sternly, she pushed the thought out of her mind. That path led to weakness and Glinda could not afford weakness, not right now, at least. Later, she would make time to feel sorry for herself, maybe even sulk a little. For the moment, however, she needed to be as hard as ruby to crush the evil in this dungeon.

Together, the three of them worked their way down into the dungeon, one step at a time. As Jonas gripped the iron railing to steady himself, his fingers sank into a tiny bit of mold. Recoiling in disgust, he absently wiped it off on his pants leg. He didn’t notice the slight tingling sensation on his skin.

When they reached the bottom of the steps, Glinda whispered, Stay a few feet behind me. I’ll clear a path. As her bare foot sank down into the muck, her skin burned with a sick, sizzling sound like a beef steak tossed into a frying pan. She cried out in a little gasp of pain but did not retreat. Roderick tugged gently on the rope, but she waved him off. The Good Witch had long since learned to bear pain. She stood her ground while her body took the measure of the malevolent force around her. Tentacles of slime started working their way up her bare legs, burning with lust. It wasn’t a thinking thing. It was just…hungry. She winced and clenched her ruby belt tightly, fighting down the pain, fear, and disgust she felt. Her long nails dug into the palms of her hands. It helped her focus.

As her body adjusted and fought back, the tentacles dissolved and fell away. Her tortured feet and legs repaired themselves until they were as soft, delicate and beautiful as ever. Now that she was in control, she began pushing back against the wicked influence in the pit. Her hair began to glow; its glossy redness becoming even more dazzling.

Roderick and his partner shielded their eyes as her hair seemed to catch fire. Flame enveloped her and the rope burned away. The two Winkies took a step back to avoid the heat. I guess I won’t be pulling her out, he said to Jonas. If anybody’s worried now, it’s not her. It’s whatever she’s found down here.

Glinda was tired, and the effort was exhausting. Perhaps she should have listened to the captain of the guard’s advice and waited a day before assaulting the dungeon. Too late now. She pushed power out into the darkness. The muck recoiled but could not escape. It evaporated before her onslaught and disappeared into nothingness. She walked around, slowly and methodically, forcing light relentlessly into every murky corner of the dungeon, cleansing it as she went. After about an hour, she surveyed her handiwork with an air of satisfaction, relaxed, and allowed her fire to die out.

Fatigue washed over her. Her head and shoulders drooped as she ambled unhurriedly toward the staircase leading up and out of the castle’s dungeon. Roderick took her arm, supporting her. She was about to take the first step up when something niggled at the back of her neck. What was it? Something is trying very hard to pretend it’s not here, she said to her guards. Something is hiding from me.

Roderick, Jonas. Bring your torches over here. Come and help me look. She couldn’t identify a specific bearing along which to direct their search. The feeling was too vague. This might take a little time.

After a while, Roderick called out, What’s that over there? There, by that bench. He gestured across the room.

Glinda and Jonas followed his pointing finger; they saw it too. It was a sickly dark green patch of something on the floor. How did I miss that? She wondered aloud. But she knew the answer. This was something more than just another part of the mystic malaise she had found in the dungeon. This was something truly alive. Something sentient. She could feel it hating her.

She motioned the two men to get behind her and advanced warily, once more on her guard. Her legs trembled from weariness. As she approached, she could swear it was looking more and more not alive. Maybe she was mistaken. It looked like nothing more than a flattened glob of wet, dark green clay, about three feet long and two feet wide. Very odd. Very odd, indeed. Knowing better than to touch it, she knelt down cautiously and waved her right hand over the spot. She muttered her incantations as before expecting to see the spot react. Nothing happened.

So intense was her concentration she did not notice Jonas working his way closer to her. He leaned forward as though intent on Glinda’s work. She didn’t see him reach into his tunic and pull out a short, thin, but very sharp dagger. This he palmed, effectively hiding the blade along the underside of his arm. When he got so close he could hear her soft, steady breathing, he lunged at her with the knife, aiming for a spot on her back directly between her shoulder blades.

Roderick was much older and slower than his partner, but he had decades of training and experience that the younger man lacked. He had lived to share many a bloody war story about his exploits; most of which, sadly, had been in the service of the Wicked Witch of the West. He saw the flash of Jonas’ dagger and lashed out, striking the other man’s wrist, diverting the blow. He heard the rip of cloth as the knife dug into Glinda’s sleeve, neatly slicing a tiny gash in her forearm. The impact pushed Glinda off balance, and she stumbled forward, instinctively putting her hand out to break her fall. Strong fingers grabbed her hair and wrenched her back roughly, saving her from falling into the green blob. Banging her head on the floor, she lay there stunned.

Hoping he hadn’t snapped her neck but too busy to check, Roderick released his grip on the Witch’s red hair and whirled back on Jonas with a fury. In other circumstances, the old soldier might have considered granting some quarter to his subordinate – but not here and not now. He held nothing back, pressing his advantage, savagely landing blow after blow upon his stunned, unresisting opponent. Jonas staggered back under this onslaught, barely keeping his balance. A torch lay on the floor where Jonas had dropped it. In one fluid motion, Roderick grabbed the torch and swung it like a baseball bat into his jaw. Jonas’ head hit the dungeon’s stone wall and he collapsed, unconscious to the floor.

Roderick drew his sword and would have killed the man had Glinda not shouted for him to stop. He almost didn’t obey, striking the steel against the floor in frustration and anger. He frowned at her severely and said, There is a time for mercy, Highness, but this is not it. I’m responsible for your safekeeping. He nearly killed you and may still be dangerous.

Dear friend, he’s been bewitched. This is not his doing. It’s hers. She gestured toward the inert, green mass lying on the paving stones. As she did so, a single drop of blood fell from her fingertip into the green. The effect was immediate.

A hideous, bloodshot eye opened in the splotch on the floor. It glared at Glinda. A slit opened below the eye, like a mouth with only two teeth. A horrible, rasping voice screeched into the gloom. Her breath stank. So, Dearie, you’ve found me at last!

The Wicked Witch of the West was alive! Glinda and Roderick watched in horror as the green mass pulled itself up into a heap. Twisting and churning like bread dough kneaded on a kitchen counter, it pulled and stretched itself upright, almost four feet tall. It waved what could have been an arm and spoke again. Question is, what’re you going to do with me now that you’ve got me? Your magic can’t beat me. I’ve always been stronger than you. Still am. Even like this, you’re no match for me. Why, I almost killed you a moment ago without even half trying. These people are my slaves. Always will be.

The eye rolled over and fixed itself on Glinda’s remaining bodyguard. You. I remember you, she snarled. You’re Roderick, aren’t you? Captain of my guard. You’ll pay for this treachery, little man. I shall rise again and when I do, I’ll punish you and all the others who rejoiced at my fall. The Witch is not dead!

Roderick, greatly shaken by this speech, trembled slightly but mustered his courage and declared, I will never serve you again, foul one. Your day is past. We’re our own masters once more. The Good Witch Dorothy has reduced you to this pitiful state and Glinda shall finish the job she left undone.

You fool! The mouth hissed. Mark me well: she’ll come for me and restore me to my throne, then you’ll grovel before me begging for your life.

There’s no one to help you, Glinda retorted. Your sister’s dead. You’re all alone. No one will come for you. Ever!

My sister? I wouldn’t trust her to wash my socks. There’s another; and she’s coming. She’ll raise me up again.

Glinda saw the fear in Roderick’s eyes. She had to put a stop to this; had to get him out of here. She’s lying, Roderick. You should leave. Take Jonas to the courtyard. Secure him, but don’t speak to him. I’ll finish here and join you shortly.

No, he replied flatly. I shall remain with you. You may require my services yet once more.

Roderick! Leave here at once. I don’t have time to argue with you.

There is no argument, Highness. I am not leaving. Go on with your business.

Her blue eyes flashed green. Blast the man, she muttered. Have it your own way, then, but stay back. At least tie him up so he doesn’t try anything else.

Turning back to what was left of her old enemy, she said, So, what’s to be done with you, I wonder. She ran her hand over her forearm, sealing the wound; then leaned toward the other witch, looking for some weakness. There wasn’t much to see, just a dull green fleshy blob, roughly the shape of a human being. She stood up and folded her arms across her chest, placing the palm of her left hand against her cheek. The old feeling of helplessness and frustration rose within her; but she fought it down, gritting her teeth. The wyrd of the Wicked Witch Sisters had always baffled her.

Enjoying Glinda’s frustration, the twisted mouth cackled insanely. So, what’re you going to do, Dearie? Got any tricks up your sleeve?

Well, there’s always fire, she thought. I’m very good at fire. She knelt down and placed her right palm flat on the stone floor. With her other hand, she gently caressed her ruby belt. Reaching deep within herself, she summoned flames to her hand and drove heat into the rock, pushing it towards her enemy.

Fire, is it? Snorted the Wicked Witch. You can’t burn me up, Dearie. I don’t burn.

Anything will burn if you get it hot enough, Glinda retorted. She knew she shouldn’t have responded, but she couldn’t help it. The old hag was just so irritatingly smug.

The Wicked Witch, feeling the heat, began to squirm uncomfortably. Stop it! She shouted, but Glinda paid no attention. By now, the flagstones around the green lump were red hot and began to melt into one another. The creature was screaming in agony, writhing in pain. Still, even through the screams, the toothless mouth twisted in a sneer and Glinda could detect a note of triumph in its tenor. It wasn’t working. Exhausted, Glinda had to let her fire die out. She stood there panting, knowing she had failed.

You’re a fool, girl, the mouth hissed. A pathetic, weak fool. I’m still here and you’re out of arrows. You can’t kill me. Your magic isn’t strong enough. We’ve both seen that now, haven’t we?

Maybe so, but you’re trapped here and helpless. I’ve cleaned up this sewer you’ve been feeding on and sealed the floor beneath you. You can’t escape and you can’t heal yourself. You’ll remain like this forever. This is your fate: alone in the darkness with none to comfort you, none to care, none to rule, none to torment.

My day will come again, girl. I swear, someday I’ll rise from this pit and take my revenge on you and the Winkies and on that miserable little girl who did this to me.

That miserable little girl, muttered Glinda thoughtfully. A thought occurred to her and she glanced up at the ceiling. She had puzzling over the child. How did Dorothy do it? How did that pitiful, innocent little girl kill one very powerful witch and completely cripple another without any magic? Maybe magic wasn’t always the answer. She looked up at the ceiling again, this time more closely, studying the pattern in the stonework.

She considered the possibilities. The little girl, Dorothy, was no witch, yet she killed your sister. The Witch of the North told me. Your sister is truly dead and gone, never to return. Ever. Haven’t you wondered about that? What do you think? Perhaps she was allergic to houses being dropped on her head. She paused for effect, considering the stone ceiling, then added, How much do you suppose that little wooden house weighed?

The Wicked Witch of the West remained silent. Interesting, thought Glinda. No sarcastic insults. No sneering. No cackling laughter.

She looked up at the dungeon’s ceiling a third time. I wonder how much that weighs? she asked aloud. More than a house, I’ll bet. A lot more. Was it her imagination, or did the hideous red-eye look uncomfortable at this turn in the conversation? Hard to tell. How does one read the emotions of a big glob of green goo with no more than a single eye and a slit for a mouth?

Roderick. Pick up your friend. We’re leaving now.

Roderick looked betrayed. Highness. What of the wicked one? Are you just going to leave her here?

Set your mind at ease, good Winkie. As you yourself said, I shall finish the job Dorothy left undone. I am going to kill this evil creature once and for all. She shall never harm you, or anybody else, ever again. Looking down at the Witch, she added, "Goodbye and good riddance to you. We shall never meet again.

Come Roderick, we must be going. I still need to attend to Jonas, and I would rather take care of that little task out in the sunshine.

The Wicked Witch began to gibber in panic. Please! She whined. You can’t do this! I beg you. Mercy, kind sorceress. Mercy!

Glinda stared at her solemnly, setting her mouth in a grim line. Seriously? You dare ask for mercy? I’ve seen your wretched handiwork for many years. I know your treachery, your cruelty. The most ‘merciful’ thing I can do is finish you and spare the thousands of Ozians you would hurt if you ever got the chance again. Mercy is not for the likes of you. It is for those who show mercy. Even so, if I thought there was any chance at all for your reformation, I might spare you. But you and I both know there is no chance of that. And so, I say again, ‘Goodbye forever’.

Turning to her guard, she repeated her earlier command. Roderick, I said we’re leaving now. Pick up your friend and lead the way, please.

This time, Roderick complied. He bent over Jonas’ unconscious form and, with a grunt, hoisted him over his shoulder. Nodding to Glinda, he turned and walked toward the stairs without looking back. He would leave her to settle the Witch’s fate alone.

The Wicked Witch was wailing and screaming, almost incoherently, begging for mercy. Glinda turned her back on her, trying to block out the noise. She concentrated very hard on the ceiling, raised her right arm, and snapped her fingers. Just once. It sounded like a thunderclap, sending shockwaves around the room. Then there was silence. Even the Wicked Witch had stopped her shouting, her single eye scanning the room, looking to see what effect Glinda’s power might have had. She saw nothing.

Glinda, also waiting, stood very still with her eyes closed, breathing softly. After a few moments, there was a very slight rumble above them, and a small sprinkling of dust drifted down from the ceiling. And that, my dear, is the sound of your death knell. Try to accept your doom with a little dignity.

Terrified, the evil witch had no dignity left. She never imagined she would die down here and greatly feared the prospect. Whatever judgment awaits the wicked, she knew she could not face it. She blubbered and begged, pleading for pity, but there was none to be had. Glinda bowed her head and walked slowly to the stairs, leaving the scourge of the Winkies to her long overdue fate. She could still hear the screaming as she strode through the hallways; then a rumble, the sound of crashing stone, and the screaming stopped.

Chapter Two: Poppies Will Do

The first thing the little Wizard noticed was a dull ache where he could feel the sand digging into the right side of his face. The second thing was that he was still alive. That was unexpected. He thought he’d be dead by now. Not that he was complaining; he was just surprised. As he came to his senses, he noticed a painful throbbing in his head. Annoying, but not disastrous. It didn’t seem very serious. Gratefully, he noted that nothing else hurt much at that moment. This also surprised him, especially at his age. No sharp pains or severe twists, just some soreness. He might be all right, after all. He opened his left eye, the one clear of the sand, and looked around as best he could, lying on his side with his face pressed into the ground. There wasn’t much to see. The little Wizard could feel the head of his cane poking into his chest. He must’ve landed on top of it, probably bruising a rib or two.

Very carefully, he forced himself up to his knees, mindful of anything that might be out of the ordinary: anything broken or bleeding or hanging out where it shouldn’t. He shuddered at the thought. The scenery didn’t look much better from this new perspective. At least it isn’t Kansas, he thought ruefully. Here, he might have the opportunity to die of thirst or starvation rather than boredom.

Sand. Nothing but sand. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There were some small hills…made of sand. His wrecked balloon lay a little way off to his left. There it lay, sad and deflated, the rigging a mess of tangled cords and pulleys. The lip of the basket had dug into the sand, holding it fast. That must be why the breeze hadn’t carried it away when it hit the ground. Apparently, he had been thrown clear during the crash.

Ah, there was his hat lying on its side not far away. One small blessing, anyway. He would have a little shade from the sun while he died of thirst or the poisonous sand ate him alive. The Wizard was very fond of the green top hat with its silk band emblazoned with eight small gems around its circumference. Much better than a crown, he thought. He had a crown, of course, but he hadn’t liked it much. It was too heavy and a little too big, which made it dig into the tops of his ears. Yes, the hat was much better. It was lighter than his crown, a great deal more comfortable for day-to-day use, and in a pinch, you could always pull something out of it (he smiled at this little joke to himself). Besides, it was good company. The crown, for all its shiny metal and precious stones, was not very bright.

The hat looked a little rumpled but intact overall. He hoped it was all right. As if in answer to his unspoken wish, the hat began to stretch itself like an old cat rousing from a nap. As he watched, it twisted in on itself and flipped upright onto its brim.

Cedric! Are you all right? Come on over here, old boy.

The hat shook the sand off itself, then sort of waddle-hopped over to its master by shifting its weight from side to side and bouncing slightly by flexing its brim. It gave the oddest impression of being annoyed.

The Wizard picked up his old friend and placed it on his head with a slap of his hand to snug it into place. Well, that was quite a bumpy ride, eh, Cedric?

Cedric was in a bad mood, and who could blame him? Oscar, grumped the hat, "I told you we shouldn’t have left Oz. That silly little girl should have been happy to be out of Kansas and into your palace. We treated her like a queen. She could have had anything she wanted. But no! All she could think of was (and here Cedric took on a high-pitched falsetto voice), ‘Auntie Em! Auntie Em!’ and ‘I want to go home. I want to go home’. Completely unreasonable.

In fact, I’ll bet she planned the whole business. Very convenient, her rotten little dog running after that cat the way it did; just when we were about to lift off in your sorry excuse for a balloon. I’m sure the whole thing was rigged.

Cedric, please! The old man begged. His head hurt and he didn’t want to listen to the hat’s conspiratorial ramblings.

Oh, I know you probably think I’m way out of line here, but think about it. Here we are out in the middle of nowhere while she is sitting in the lap of luxury there. With you out of the way, she’s easily the most influential person in all of Oz. The Scarecrow probably figured it out for her. He’s not as dumb as he makes out to be, you know.

That’s not very charitable of you, Cedric. You need to settle yourself down. She was a perfectly delightful, innocent little girl. I’m sure she’s quite grieved about the whole thing. I do hope she manages to get back home, even if it is Kansas. After all, I did promise her.

But Cedric was not quite ready to settle down. She’s probably already taken over the kingdom – her and her three friends. Besides, I’m going to get all faded out here in the sun. A hat of my sort isn’t meant for this rough treatment. I’ve got sand all inside my lining. It itches. And look at you. A proper state you’re in, I must say.

Oscar brushed some sand off his trousers and straightened his tie. His head was killing him. Dorothy was right, I am a bad man. I’ve gotten just what I deserve. I shall probably die in this desert, and a good riddance it will be, too! My tombstone will read ‘Here Lies a Humbug and a Fool’.

The two of them, hat and Wizard, let the stillness of the desert wash over them for a moment. After a while, the hat broke the silence. Oscar…Why aren’t you dead?

"I have just been giving that some thought, myself.