Shadows of the Emerald City

by J. W. Schnarr

  Theft! Burglary! Vandalism!

  Such a thing had not happened in Munchkin land in many, many years.

  Then there was the missing goose-girl. Nemi Omsbi was the daughter of an important farmer and by all accounts a most responsible girl. Every day for as long as anybody could remember she’d risen early, ate breakfast, and then taken her geese out to the meadows near her father’s farm. She tended the geese all day, usually knitting clever sweaters and scarves with patterns of blue geese in them to pass the time, always returning just before dinner time. Only today she hadn’t. Returned that is. Her geese were found milling in the meadows, calling for her. Her knitting was under a tree nearby but no sign of her. Most Munchkins assumed she’d finally run off with some lad but her geese said not, and her mother believed them and insisted there was foul play.

  Foul play! In Oz!

  Finally, for certain that in fairy counties such things always happen in threes, a most alarming report came in.

  “Your majesty,” Vorodi, the High Chancellor, wheezed, “Mr. Yoop has escaped!”

  “Whoop?”

  “Yoop, your Majesty. Mr. Yoop, the giant cannibal who was caged along an unused road to the Winkie country long ago, before the time of the witches! He’s out; his cage is broken and empty! He escaped.”

  “How?” asked the King. “When?”

  “I … I don’t know, your Majesty,” the chancellor said, a worried look passing over his normally round and cheerful face. “A passing Jay had taken to taunting the giant every few weeks. Today he went to taunt and there was no giant. I don’t know how he escaped.”

  “No matter,” the King clapped his hands in front of his ample stomach, the result of dining with too many important Munchkins. “This is too much for us, Vorodi. Holes in roofs, missing cutlery and goose-girls. Now a giant! We must send word to Ozma’s court and ask for help. Perhaps Princess Dorothy or Nick Chopper, will be about, to come lend us a hand.”

  “Emerald City is a long way off,” observed the chancellor. “What are we Munchkins to do until help arrives?”

  The King paced a bit and then declared, “Send the constables around to every village and farm. Tell my people to stay indoors or in large groups.”

  “You want the people to huddle in fear, while we wait for help?”

  “That’s right,” the King agreed, “most sensible thing to do, really.”

  “If we send out the constables, who will we send to Ozma?”

  “I’ll go myself,” the King declared. “Get someone to hitch up the goat-cart.” King Ghab knew he was much too fat these days to walk all the way to Emerald City.

  “As your majesty commands,” said Vorodi.

  Soon the constables were scampering about, and Munchkins were huddled into their homes and cellars, waiting further news, while King Ghab was settled in his cart behind a goat named Nick, after the Emperor of the Winkies, that placidly munched vegetables hung before him on a pole, heading steadily down the yellow brick road to Emerald, capital city of Oz.

  The king had not traveled very far beyond the edge of Munchkin City, his capitol, before he got to the edges of the great Munchkin forest. It wasn’t the largest forest in the Land of Oz but it was large enough, and home to many wild beasts. The forest was very quiet, which neither the king nor the goat took note of. The goat had been chosen for its phlegmatic personality and as long as its mouth was full it was content to plod along pulling the cart until the vegetables ran out. The king was just preoccupied.

  The forest was unnaturally quiet because Mr. Yoop, the giant, was running loose in it. He was one of the most dangerous things to ever run loose anywhere in the land of Oz, and the beasts, living in a less refined but more natural state than city folk, were very sensitive to such things and not inclined to put themselves at risk by running about with a giant on the loose. King Ghab lived in the city however, and was more careless about such things.

  So it was that he didn’t notice the cart was passing two suspiciously hairy tree trunks. The giant, whose legs those tree trunks were, was used to snatching unwary travelers who passed his cage and he snatched King Ghab up the same way. He wrapped his hand ‘round the King’s head, shoulders, and arms and lifted him right out of the cart as quick as you could blink. The goat Nick never even noticed and continued on for several miles while he worked through a large, juicy turnip currently hanging on his stick.

  In three great strides the giant had them out of sight of the road. Thirteen more of his gigantic steps and they were deep inside the blue-tinged forest. Gob Ghab struggled in the giant’s grip, kicking his legs and even trying to bite the giant’s leathery palm, but he might as well have been wrapped in stone. The giant walked a long way into the woods before he stopped.

  After he stopped he shifted his grip so King Ghab’s head poked out of the top of his hand and the King could see.

  Nothing he saw did much to encourage the King. They were somewhere deep in the forest under an enormous Hickory tree. A low fire burned on a stone hearth laid near the tree’s trunk and over it simmered a huge iron pot, it’s outside quite rusted. Beside the pot was a rough hewn trestle table on which sat a coil of heavy rope, a pile of onions and what had to be Mob Cobi’s cleaver.

  “Unhand me!” Gob Ghab demanded of the giant. “I am the King of this land! Put me down!’ This might have made more of an impression if he’d not squeaked so in the middle of “down!’.

  Mr. Yoop simply grinned and plucked the great gold-foil and tin crown off Gob Ghab’s head. He held it up to his eye.

  “The king you are of those I hate, a fine meal I’m sure you’ll make!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The king is supposed to eat fine meals,” Gob protested, “not be eaten as one! Put me down! Let me go!”

  Though the Munchkin King continued to protest it didn’t matter to the giant at all. In a twice he had King Ghab trussed up and tied down across the table. He then proceeded to pluck and pull off the King’s fine clothes, starting with his splendid tooled boots.

  “Hey!” Shouted Gob. “Careful with those, they’re custom made! Ouch! That pinched!” Mr. Yoop finally shut him up by stuffing a fine knit stocking into his mouth. He finished undressing the Munchkin before Gob managed to spit the stocking out.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Gob cried.

  Mr. Yoop paused to consider the question before replying,

  “One hundred years in a cage, you can not comprehend my rage. No one to eat, nothing to gnaw. Now I’ll try you in my jaws.” He reached for the cleaver.

  Gob Ghab, King of the Munchkins, howled as Mr. Yoop did his work. The giant’s cleaver was sharp enough to split hairs, and the blade caused a deep burning sensation as the giant slowly drew it through the King’s flesh, as if it were white hot. Tears welled in the King’s eyes as Mr. Yoop leaned in to complete his first cut, severing Gob’s feet just above the ankles. When the giant saw the tears he grinned and paused in his cutting long enough to wipe one on to his finger, thick as a fence-post, and touch it to his lips.

  He then went back to his labor, cleaving every joint and splitting King Gob’s torso up the middle like a chicken. This did not kill the King, of course, because very few things can actually kill the residents of the fairy realm of Oz, but it was very, very painful and the giant worked his knife slowly and deliberately, saving Gob’s head for the very last cut so the King could fully appreciate the giant’s work.

  King Gob didn’t appreciate any part of Mr. Yoop’s work, however.

  “Enough, enough I say! Oh, this is awful. Stop doing this to me, please!” Mr. Yoop just grinned and lifted the lid off the great iron cauldron. He tossed the king’s left foot into the pot, and then his right forearm. He made a game of it, standing behind the table and flinging a thigh and buttocks, still attached together, back up from behind his head. It rattled around the rim before falling in with a splash, which was followed by a high-pitched “oomph!” from inside the cauldron.

  The giant’s grin wid
ened and he snatched the king’s head up and held it over the cauldron so he could see in. In the steaming stock inside Gob could see a girl, or parts of a girl, floating and bobbing along with the parts of him just placed. Her head came out from under his thigh, looked him square in the eye and spat out a mouthful of broth.

  ‘Oh my,” King Ghab said. “Are you Nemi Omsbi?”

  Mr. Yoop frowned at him and crammed an onion in his mouth, but the girl’s head answered.

  “Yes, I’m Nemi Omsbi. Oh, this is terrible! Watch out!” This, just as the giant stuffed his head into the simmering broth. The liquid was scalding of course, and also heavily spiced with pepper. It burned in Gob’s eyes and reddened his skin and made his ears itch inside, which was all the worse for having no hands and arms attached to scratch with. His face impacted something soft, which floated to the surface with him. He managed to spit out the onion and work his face around with jaw, tongue and eyebrows until he could see. His head was floating on top of Nemi Omsbi’s chest. If Gob had not already been scalded red he would have blushed.

  “Look out!” Nemi Omsbi said, just as the rest of his parts started raining down. The stock splashed and Gob was knocked off Nemi’s chest and ended up somewhere near the bottom of the pot. It was much hotter there. Gob Ghab felt his eyes and ears swelling in the heat, so much so he was glad when the giant stirred the pot with a big wooden ladle and brought his head to the surface again.

  The grinning giant was waiting for him. Once both heads were floating on the top of the broth he proceeded to pelt them with onions. Nemi was struck hard in her left eye, which immediately teared up. This delighted the giant.

  “Don’t cry, Miss Omsbi,” Gob said. “We’ll get out of this, somehow.”

  “Idiot!” the girl replied. “I’ve got onion in my eye! And the only place we’re going from here is down his gullet.”

  “The girl is right, you’re in a spot.” Mr. Yoop said. “Nothing can pull you from my pot.” Then he pasted Gob between the eyes with the last onion and put the lid on, plunging the cauldron into a sweaty darkness. This sent the stock to boiling and for quite some time afterward all the two heads could do was scream.

  Bosky Boq was a famous wrestler. He’d been champion wrestler of the Munchkins for as long as anyone could remember, since the days of the witches. He still had, in his backroom where he kept such things, a silver rod set with sapphires awarded to him by the Witch of the East for his first championship. He seldom displayed any of his trophies for in truth he had very few friends, but in his heart he valued that one the most, not the least because it had come from one of the feared wicked witches.

  Like those witches, Boq was not well liked but was well respected and feared. He was a true Munchkin from Munchkin City and so only about half as tall as most Ozites, but what he lacked in height he made up for in lean hard muscle. Broad shouldered, barrel chested with legs like stumps and a neck fully as thick as his thigh, he’d spent his lifetime taking on bigger, or at least taller, opponents without suffering more than a handful of defeats over a very long career.

  He reasoned that his skill and experience at wrestling ought to stand him in good stead against a giant. While he was too small, or at any rate the giant was too large, for Boq to exert much leverage against his arms or legs, he might be able to work something against the fingers of his hands. Footwork was going to be a problem though. He’d even consulted with a copy of his friend Col. Wyndel Wynkaisser’s “How to fight like a Winkie” for ideas on that.

  Winkies were indeed the most ferocious fighters of all the Ozites, but no Winkie had ever matched him at wrestling, which was why Wyndel had asked him for his input on the chapters on wrestling and ground work. He’d been proud to be asked and gladly contributed, for while no Winkie could out wrestle him he’d decided long ago to stay out of any contest conducted under Winkie rules. A low center of gravity and superior leverage were scarcely enough to counter all the punching, kicking, stomping, chopping and gouging dished out in Winkie fighting. After all, he was a wrestler.

  He was working on a few ideas he had in the big, open yard behind his house. Let his neighbors cower in their cellars and wait for help from Emerald City. Boq believed in solving his own problems and thought Munchkins as a whole should do the same.

  Practice had always been a key element in his success. What he was practicing now was a sort of twisty, low spread jump designed to move him out of the giant’s grasp while positioning him to get behind a descending hand and maybe let him get a grip. It was harder than he’d thought it would be, with all the squatting and turning, and Boq had to concentrate very hard to avoid tripping his own self up. He was much surprised when, in the middle of a twisting leap, he ran smack into something very large and very hard right in the middle of his yard, and fell backwards on to his bum.

  He stared stupidly for a second at what he thought was a big, hairy tree someone had planted in his yard while he wasn’t looking. His eyes and his mind both regained focus then and he tilted his head back farther to stare into the swarthy, grinning face of Mr. Yoop.

  “In the pot are pork and veal,” the giant said. “I want your beef to fill my meal!” The giant made a snatch for Bosky Boq, but the wrestler was ready for him. As the giant’s hand shot down the wrestler leaped up and twisted. Mr. Yoop’s hand closed on air, except for his little finger which Boq had bent backward. The wrestler twisted the finger further and pushed it down into the ground and the giant over balanced and planted his weight on his empty fist.

  “Ha!” Boq cried in triumph.

  “Grrr!” Mr. Yoop growled deeply as he swung around with his other hand. Boq saw it coming but he hadn’t quite worked out what to do about the giant’s other hand, and before anything occurred to him Mr. Yoop had snatched him up. The giant sprang to his feet and held Boq high in the air and shook him fiercely. Just when the wrestler thought his eyes would pop out Mr. Yoop flung him on the ground very hard.

  Boq’s backyard was covered with a thick, springy turf over hard earth, and Boq landed face first so hard he left an impression on the dirt beneath the grass. He didn’t move. The giant grinned as he peeled him up and carried him off.

  The dove flew straight through the open window at the back of the throne room and began to circle wearily around the small girl seated on the throne, cooing distress. The girl, who was not really a girl but was, in fact, Ozma, a powerful fairy and queen of the Lands of Oz, held up a finger for the bird to land on. It did and immediately began cooing out its message.

  The girl Queen allowed no distress to show on her angelic face, but rose at once, placed the dove on the arm of her throne and motioned to her Royal Chamberlain.

  “Have Princess Dorothy meet me at my magic picture,” She commanded.

  The Chamberlain bustled off to find Dorothy, and Ozma left right behind him.

  “There was no point to your going off to Emerald City,” Nemi Omsbi said. “Queen Ozma is perfectly capable of keeping track of what’s going on without your help. Glinda will have read about Mr. Yoop’s escape in her magic book and sent word to the Queen by magic or messenger bird. For that matter you could have sent a bird. It’s much faster than a goat cart.”

  King Gob Ghab spat a mouthful of broth at the goose-girls head.

  “Maybe so, but I didn’t think of it.”

  “No,” the girl agreed. “All you thought of was how much safer it’d be in Emerald City with a giant wandering around Munchkin Land! Get your face off my bosoms.”

  “How?” the King asked. The giant had left the lid only slightly ajar, to allow the broth to cook down a little, and the King could barely see, especially with the pepper still burning in his eyes. The spicing didn’t seem to bother the girl’s eyes. She saw every transgression.

  “Just open your mouth—let it fill up—and spit it out in a stream. Like this …” The girl opened her mouth to demonstrate, bringing her face to face with a favorite part of Gob’s anatomy, which caught the brunt of her spray as she propelled he
r head across the cauldron.

  “Hey, watch that!” Gob objected. He didn’t like the silly way it looked flapping around at the end of hiss torso, with no legs to keep it in place.

  “Ha!” Nemi laughed. “I’ll bet you wish I’d gotten closer.”

  “Not at all,” said Gob. “It’s the Queen’s favorite part of me. Sometimes I think it’s the only part she really likes.”

  “If we get out of this I’ll have to have a talk with her Majesty.” Nemi spat a little broth to turn her face toward Gob’s. “About her standards.”

  “It’s not exactly displayed to best effect in here.” Snapped Gob.

  “Quiet,” the girl replied. “Mr. Yoop is coming back.”

  “I think he knows we’re in here.” Gob quieted down anyway. They could hear the giant bustling about the table. This went on for some time. Suddenly there was a shriek, followed by a long string of the foulest swearing either of them had ever heard, and then the giant removed the lid, releasing a cloud of steam. He leered down at them over the rim.

  “This one put up quite a fight, but I know how to cook him right.” He held up his latest victim’s head. Gob’s crown was crammed, points down, over his bulging forehead. Unfortunately it didn’t cover his mouth.

  “… motherless, dog-dicked arse-lipping nome-knocker! You tree fucking, pig-pimping, turd-faced—,” the giant dropped the head into the pot where, thanks to the crown, it sank right to the bottom and stayed.

  “Now that I have dealt with that, its time for a little snack.” Mr. Yoop poked his massive finger into Nemi’s face, not put off a bit by her attempt to bite him. He didn’t seem to like what he felt. “Heads take longer for to cook, I’ll just settle for a foot.”

  Fish out a foot he did, and a leg and a thigh and bum to go with it. All of them belonging to Nemi Omsbi.

  “Ohh! That curd-spoiling, silage slurping vat of monkey-shit!” She exclaimed. “I wish he hadn’t sunk that other head. That fellow sounded like he could really swear. Right now I’d take lessons.”