The gates to Glinda’s castle were guarded by three young women, dressed in sharp red uniforms trimmed with gold braids. The largest of the three approached us.
“Why have you come to the South Country?” she asked. She was polite, but something in her expression said that she was perfectly willing—and maybe just a little bit eager—to punch me in the face if I gave an answer she didn’t like.
“We’re here to see Glinda the Good Witch,” I said. I had a full-grown lion and Conan the Fucking Axe Ninja at my side—I wasn’t about to let this woman intimidate me.
She screwed up her face, like she was trying to decide if my response was punch-worthy. “Let me have your name, and I will ask Glinda if she will receive you,” she said at last. She left through the gates, and the other two guards looked relieved. I had the distinct impression that we had just barely avoided fisticuffs.
After a few moments the guard returned to say that we were to be admitted at once. Along the way, she brought us to a changing room where we washed our faces and smoothed out our lumpy straw, and endeavored to make ourselves more or less presentable. The Woodsman oiled all his joints and pulled a bottle of tin polish from somewhere, buffing every inch of himself to a gleam. The Woodsman was really invested in making a good impression on Glinda the Good Witch.
When he finally finished, we followed the guard into a big room where Glinda was waiting for us on a throne of rubies.
Glinda was crazy hot, you guys. She wore a gauzy, white dress, and her red hair was done in flowing ringlets that cascaded over her soft, bare shoulders. She had deep blue eyes that I was already lost in, and perfect fucking skin. I wasn’t gay or anything, but I was a little bit gay for Glinda the Good Witch.
The Tin Woodsman’s hinged jaw literally dropped.
“What can I do for you, my child?” the Witch asked.
The prickly exterior I always worked so hard to maintain shattered under her gaze. “I screwed it all up,” I said, trying to hold back the tears. “The stupid Wizard flew away without me, and we’ve just been wandering through forests and creepy doll countries—the Lion killed a giant spider, but even that was anticlimactic—and I don’t know if I’m in a game or a coma or brainwashed or crazy, but this can’t possibly be what happens in the book. And I’m tired, and filthy, and I stink, and used up all my monkey wishes, and I don’t want to be trapped here forever.” I fell to my knees, which was fine, because I guess I was pretty much begging at that point.
Glinda stepped off her throne, drew me close, and whispered into my ear. “Take heart, my sweet child. This is exactly what happens in the book.”
And for some reason, that was what I needed to hear. Everything would be fine—I was still just voyaging through literature. The one theory I hadn’t actually considered was that L. Frank Baum was just a shitty writer—he got to his big, dramatic conclusion but hadn’t met his word goal yet, so he had Dorothy wander the countryside for forty more pages, encountering all the half-baked shit that he hadn’t managed to work into the plot.
It was a revelation. “So is that it?” I was almost afraid to ask. “Do I get to go home?”
Glinda gave me a little kiss on the forehead. “Bless your dear heart,” she said. “I am sure I can tell you of a way to get back to Kansas. But, if I do, you must give me the Golden Cap.”
“Certainly!” the Scarecrow exclaimed. “It is no use to us now, and when you have it you can command the Winged Monkeys three times!”
That’s when it hit me. I could have just used up my three wishes, then given the cap to the Scarecrow, who could have used his three wishes and given the cap to the Tin Woodsman. I had been fretting over my precious monkey resources for days, but I could have had six additional wishes at least—nine if the Lion could manage to successfully navigate the hopping parts of the spell while balanced on his hind legs.
This is why I suck at computer games—Madeline would have made a much better Dorothy than I did. I handed the stupid hat to the Good Witch.
“I think I shall need their service just those three times,” she said, smiling. “And you, gentle Scarecrow. What will you do when Dorothy has left us?”
“I will return to the Emerald City,” he said. “For Oz has made me its ruler and the people like me. The only thing that worries me is how to cross the hill of the Hammer Heads.”
“Then by means of the Golden Cap I shall command the Winged Monkeys to carry you to the gates of the Emerald City,” Glinda said. “For it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler.”
The Scarecrow was absolutely giddy at the compliment. “Am I really wonderful?” he asked.
“You are… unusual,” she replied. Oh my god, I loved Glinda the Good Witch. She turned to the Tin Woodsman. “And what will become of you when Dorothy leaves this country?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Up to this point he had remained silent, apparently struck dumb by the Witch’s beauty. Now he leaned on his axe for a moment, thinking. I was genuinely worried that he was going to hit on her.
Finally, he spoke. “The Winkies were very kind to me, and asked me to rule over them as their king when the Wicked Witch was no more. I am fond of the Winkies, and if I could get back again to the Country of the West, I should like nothing better than to rule over them forever.”
“Wait,” I said. “What? When did the Winkies ask you to be their king?”
“After they repaired me, just as I woke up,” he said matter-of-factly. “They had never seen a man such as myself, and were quite taken aback in wonder.”
So he had an offer of royalty weeks ago, and never even bothered to mention it, even as the others were being handed their own kingships left and right. The thought of it made me smile. The truth was, my Tin Man crush had mellowed a bit. I mean, I still thought he was hot like burning, and those hips would hold a special place in my sex dreams for years to come. But I had come to accept that in his eyes I’d always be a little girl—and not in the “he refuses to acknowledge the woman I’ve become” sense. When he looked at me he literally saw a ten-year-old child. No part of that scenario was a turn-on for me.
“Indeed, there has never been a man such as yourself,” Glinda said. “My second command to the Winged Monkeys will be that they carry you safely to the land of the Winkies. Your brains may not be so large to look at as those of the Scarecrow, but you are really brighter than he is—when you are well-polished—and I am sure you will rule the Winkies wisely and well.”
Then the Witch looked at the big, shaggy Lion and asked, “When Dorothy has returned to her own home, what will become of you?”
“Over the hill of the Hammer Heads,” he said, “lies a grand old forest, and all the beasts that live there have made me their King. If I could only get back to this forest, I would pass my life very happily there.”
“My third command to the Winged Monkeys,” Glinda said, “shall be to carry you to your forest. Then, having used up the powers of the Golden Cap, I shall give it to the King of the Monkeys, that he and his band may thereafter be free forevermore.”
Again, I felt like a dumbass. Evidently I had watched Aladdin too many times when I was a kid, because I had been all caught up in the whole idea of using my final wish to free the Genie. I could have just used my third monkey wish and then given them the hat, and it would have accomplished the same thing.
The Scarecrow and Woodsman and Lion all thanked Glinda earnestly for her generosity. “You are truly as kind as you are hot,” I said. “But what about me? How do I get home?”
“Your silver shoes will carry you over the desert,” Glinda replied. “If you had known their power you could have gone home the very first day you came to this country.”
“I did know their power! I tried to use them the first day I came here!”
“But then I should not have had my wonderful brains!” the Scarecrow said. “I might have passed my whole life in the farmer’s cornfield.”
“And I should not have had my lovely heart,” the Tin Woodsman added. “I might have stood and rusted in the forest ’til the end of the world.”
“And I should have lived a coward forever,” declared the Lion. “And no beast in all the forest would have had a good word to say to me.”
“That’s true,” I said. “And I’m thrilled to death that I got to meet you all, and help you get your hearts’ desire, plus a whole kingdom or whatever. But for real, I need to go home.”
“The silver shoes have wonderful powers,” the Good Witch said. “And one of the most curious things about them is that they can carry you to any place in the world in three steps, and each step will be made in the wink of an eye. All you have to do is to knock the heels together three times and command the shoes to carry you wherever you wish to go.”
“So instead of passively stating how much I like Calabasas,” I said, “I just needed to straight-up tell the shoes to take me there?” I was incredulous. “That’s the same thing. That’s the fucking worst.”
Nevertheless, it was true. And now there was nothing left except the tearful goodbyes.
I took the Scarecrow’s gloved hands in my own, foregoing the hug, since now in addition to his creepy face, he also had pins and needles poking out through his burlap head. “You’ve been a loyal companion and a kind, true friend,” I said. “And there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I will miss you least of all.”
“That’s fair,” the Scarecrow said.
“I’m kidding,” I said, giving him a careful hug in spite of it all. “I can’t even count the times your cleverness saved us, and I’m glad you finally figured out how smart you are.”
I turned and buried my head in the Lion’s mane. “No one could ask for better protector, or a braver friend,” I said. “Before the Klonopin, or after.”
That just left the Tin Woodsman. And with all the tears flowing down his face, he was going to need about a gallon of oil. I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. “Is there any chance you’re patterned after some farmhand or something, out in the Midwest? With, I don’t know, a prosthetic hip replacement?”
“Oh, Dorothy,” the Woodsman said. “I didn’t understand a word of that. How shall I ever get by without you?”
I disengaged from his embrace. “Well, you have a whole country to rule now, so… representative democracy? Seriously, all of you. Think about it.”
I picked Toto up and tucked him under my arm. I was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to stay in Oz, and if I somehow ended up owning a dog after this was all over, I was okay with it. He was actually a pretty great little dog. Then I closed my eyes and clicked my heels together three times.
“Take me home,” I said. Short, simple, and sweet.
Instantly I was whirling through the air, and all I could hear was the wind whistling past my ears.