Shadows of the Emerald City

by J. W. Schnarr

  “I’m not worried about that. I drilled it into their tiny brains that the rest of Oz was getting ready to wipe them off the map for ding-donging the countryside. I banned the use of that archaic-Munchkin language and adjusted their diet to compensate. As far as the monkeys go, I’ll pass. Those fur balls will eat most of the stuff they don’t drop and I have the transportation problem solved. That isolated village is now connected to the Yellow Brick Road. Civilization has reached Munchkin land.”

  The west witch barred her teeth and growled.

  “What the hell happened to you? You used to be evil with a capital E. Now you provide jobs, build houses, and encourage commerce. We’re supposed to be the Wicked Witches. You know, conquer the land, subjugate people, and stamp out good, that kind of thing. Instead of helping me drive the Good Witch of the South into the sea and laying siege to Emerald City you’re trading with them both. What kind of ally are you anyway?”

  “Officially, I am neutral in your war with Glinda, as is Emerald City. I only sell food to our good second cousin; at a higher price than I do to you, mind you. The wizard’s people I have a closer relationship with, they have deeper pockets after all. Trading with them both is my way of spreading my brand of wicked, evil older sister. As our darling mother used to say, curse her soul, ‘the ends will justify the means’.”

  “I think you missed her point, little sister. I believe she would be appalled on how merciful you have become to your subjects.”

  “Perhaps.” She took another sip then continued. “But I think she would be surprised on how well my tactics have worked. Let’s compare our results.

  “While you attempted to take lands by force and bogged your forces in a protracted war, W, I have traded, bought and swindled for my territory. For all your efforts, you rule a rocky mountain range and a few swamps. I own half the farming area, the best timber in Oz, and the northern hills that are filled with coal.

  “While you have driven so many people away and enslaved the few that are left, I have hired desperate refugees at a wage of my choice. With the silver I give them, they pay me rent to live in homes that I built, buy food from the farms that I own, and purchase clothing that my workers make.

  “And since I own everything, I can set whatever price I like and chose to throw whomever I want out of their house. I have subjugated my people, even if they aren’t aware of it yet. Soon, I will be purchasing parts of Emerald City itself. Long before you will be able to march an army to its gates, I will already own half the city.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” snarled the western witch. “I have tricked Glinda into excepting a truce. As soon as I am ready, my armies will be on the march again.” She smiled and sweetened her tone. “Of course it would be easier if you could loan me those silver slippers for a few days.”

  A thin smile curled on the east witch’s lips.

  “Not a chance. The next person that wears these will have to pry them from my cold-dead feet.” She watched her sisters eyebrows lift a bit. “And to remind you that killing me won’t guarantee you possession of these slippers. The spell that holds them to me is pretty tricky.”

  A scowl returned to her sister’s face.

  “I should have never let you take them. They should have been mine.”

  The eastern witch rolled her eyes.

  “You had first choice. You wanted the broom.”

  “You didn’t deserve either one.” She scrunched her eyebrows and looked down at her sister’s feet. “They just changed to ruby. Why do they turn ruby a few days every month?”

  The east witch looked down for herself then sighed. “None of your business, you dried up old hag.”

  The west witch twisted her mouth and glared at her sister for a moment.

  “I don’t know what type of spell you placed on those slippers but I’m sure mother would have never approved. You lack the true wickedness that she had when she wore them. You have become soft and don’t have what it takes to be truly wicked anymore.”

  The east witch set her cup down and grinned inwardly. “Oh that reminds me. I regret to inform you that I will need to raise the price of grain. Two pounds of gold for every ton now.”

  “What? I don’t have enough slaves to dig out that much gold at those prices. I’ll have to take Winkie’s off the front lines to help!”

  The east witch leaned in and smiled wide. “I could loan you a few workers to help, for a price of course.” Mary Ann jumped on her shoulder and added her opinion.

  “Caw!”

  The west witch’s face twisted. She snarled then stabbed a finger at them both.

  “I’ll get you, my little sister. And your little crow, too!”

  The crystal went dark. The east witch smiled broadly and began to skip about her room. She had once again gotten the best of her sister. Her smile gradually faded. Something that her wicked sibling said began to gnaw at her. Curious, she spoke a spell over the crystal ball and waved over it. The ball came to life showing a village full of mushroom houses. She threw her head back and clenched her fist when she saw what the inhabitants were up to.

  “Those idiots! I’ll rip their empty heads off, the little mother…” She stomped about the room then composed herself. She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and clicked her heels together.

  “There’s no place like Munchkin land. There’s no place like Munchkin land.”

  She reappeared on the Yellow Brick Road on the rise overlooking the village. Tied to a pole was the Scarecrow, his mouth gagged. He would look at the roaring bonfire then struggle to escape his binds. Six Munchkins, three on each end of the pole, paraded the scarecrow through the street as the rest of the Munchkins sang in celebration.

  Ding-dong the scarecrow’s toast. He’s gonna make a yummy roast. Ding-dong the scaredy-crow is toast!

  No one noticed her. The Munchkin lugged their high-fiber meal toward the fire. The witch pulled a rag out of her pocket and spat into it. She held it up high with both hands and twisted it as if wringing out. A torrent of water gushed over the fire, extinguishing it.

  “How many times have I told you mongrels not to ding-dong!” she said, marching down the hill straight toward the village square.

  The Munchkins screamed; several attempted to run away. The witch pointed at each one that tried. An invisible hand grabbed onto them and dragged them back into the square.

  “I have been working to make you cannibals presentable for an amusement park. Tourists won’t step one foot in this village if they hear ‘We’re going to eat someone’ in Munchkinese.”

  “But we like to ding-dong,” said one Munchkin.

  The witch scooped up some pebbles with her left hand than slapped the back of it with her right causing them to spray away. The Munchkin lurched forward as if someone smacked him in the back of the head. His teeth flew out and bounced off the street.

  “Anyone else want to gum their food for the rest of their life?” The half-sized villagers stood silent. She stepped up to the scarecrow, who was still bound and gagged and held aloft by the six Munchkins. She reached into his chest and pulled out a hand full of dried foliage. “You idiots! You can’t even eat him. He’s made of straw, not an ounce of meat in his carcass.”

  She marched back to the toothless Munchkin, shoved the straw in his mouth then stabbed a finger at the doused bonfire.

  “You dummies aren’t even bright enough to know that there would have been nothing left to eat once you put him over the fire. Thirty seconds of flame and all you would have had left was a charred stick to gnaw on.”

  “But we’re so hungry,” eeked a Munchkin. “All we had to eat for the past month was candy.”

  “What? I instructed the farmer to deliver meat and grain to you once a week. Hasn’t he been showing up?”

  The Munchkins stared blankly at her. She walked up to the scarecrow and yanked his gag off.

  “Where’s the farmer?”

  The scarecrow stared back with wide eyes.

  “I
-I haven’t seen him in a month. The last I saw he was headed here to make his delivery.”

  She slowly turned and stared at the Munchkins. She crouched and stepped among the villagers, looking each one in the eye.

  “What happened to the farmer? Well? Come now. Spit it out, what was the last thing you remembered when you saw him?”

  From behind an anonymous voice answered. “Ding-dong.”

  She buried her face in her hands then straightened and brought her arms to her side, screaming. Flames shot out from the ends of her fingers. The Munchkins began to back away. She pointed at them all.

  “Don’t anybody move!”

  She pulled the rag out of her pocket and tied it in knot. She yanked the rag and the knot disappeared. The binds holding the scarecrow released, dropping him to the ground.

  “Get your ass back in that field and stay there until I send someone with instructions.” She pointed at the road. “Now go.” The scarecrow rose to his feet and scurried away. “I said go!” A lightening bolt leapt from her hand and struck him in the seat of his pants. He yelped and ran up the road.

  Once out of sight she headed to the storage building. One look inside was all she needed.

  “Where’s all the candy? Don’t tell me you ate the entire store?”

  All the Munchkins looked at the ground and started to shuffle their feet.

  “Listen up all of you. Munchkin Candy and Chocolate Emporium’s grand opening in Emerald City is in one week. I will have egg on my face if all that advertising and promotion I paid for is for a store with empty shelves. That store is going to be fully stocked. I don’t care if it means all of you work the next seven days on twenty-four hour shifts!”

  “We don’t have to.”

  The witch spun to find the voice.

  “Who said that?” she said searching the crowd.

  “I did,” said a greasy haired Munchkin holding an oversized lollipop over his shoulder. Three other Munchkins, also holding lollipops, stood behind him. At a height a few inches under four feet, this Munchkin was the tallest of the bunch. The other three seemed to be getting most of their courage from him. “The Good Witch of the North says we don’t have to slave for your profits. Our guild is going on strike until we get fair compensation for our work.”

  The witch held up her right hand with her palm up like a claw. Small flames flickered off each nail.

  “Is that so?”

  The tall Munchkin nodded firmly. The other three were less resolute.

  “Fine.” The witch twisted her hand at the leader of the guild. A stream of fire bathed the Munchkin. The flaming figure screamed and ran in a half-circle before collapsing in the street. The flames leaped into the air until only a smoldering pile of ash was left. “You’re fired.”

  The witch raised her voice.

  “The Witch of the North isn’t as good as she appears and is giving you advice that is bad for your own good. If any of you believe that I will succumb to labor stoppages, slowing work practices, or claims of illness, you are mistaken. I have invested a lot of silver and resources in you cannibals. I have a signed contract and the deed to all the land around you.”

  “We didn’t know what we were signing,” shouted a voice in the crowd. “We can’t read.”

  “That is not my problem. If you don’t like this arrangement, I could always use a few of you in my coalmine. Or you are always welcomed to pick apples in the crabapple orchard. That is if you think you’re quick enough to dodge their throws. In the meantime, we have a schedule to keep. Now get to work.”

  The Munchkins groaned and started to disperse. Then one pointed to the sky.

  “She’s here! The Good Witch of the North is coming!”

  The Munchkins all began to chant her name. The wicked witch turned to see a pink bubble descend. She crossed her arms and waited for her second cousin to land.

  The pretty redhead stepped out of the bubble in a pink fluffy dress holding a wand with a pink star on the end of it. She had a smile that must have been painted on because the witch of the east couldn’t recall her ever wearing a frown. The Munchkins would touch her dress as she stepped pass. She would set a hand on their heads when she walked by. She stopped by the pile of ashes in the street and shook her head.

  “Tsk, tsk.” She looked up at the wicked witch. “Must be another worker that dared to stand up against an oppressive profiteer.” She stepped away from the ashes, still maintaining her glowing smile. She twirled and opened her arms to the Munchkins. “My dear friends, your struggle against the landowners will end soon. Just as…” She looked over at charred remains of the Munchkin and puckered her lips for a moment. “…that pile of ash stood up to the capitalistic counter-revolutionary, we must do the same and carry on his, or her, bravery.”

  “Kill the witch! Kill the witch!” chanted the Munchkins.

  The wicked witch arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, Leninida. Try and kill the witch.”

  “Oh-ho-ho-ho,” she replied with a bubbly laugh. “Violence is a last resort. As workers struggling against the oppressive hand of the profit seekers, we must try to resist the favorite tool of the reactionary.” Leninida bounced up to the east witch and skipped around her as if she were a prop in a ballet. “It is my hope that my dear second cousin will abandon her materialistic undertakings before the upcoming class struggle forces change upon her. A pity that you feel the need to exploit these poor, defenseless creatures for your own selfish desires instead of bettering their lives.”

  The wicked witch stepped on Leninida’s pink dress stopping her in mid bounce.

  “Bettering their lives? These half-pints lived in a cabbage patch. I grew the mushrooms into houses with my magic. I had a well dug for them. I ordered the YBR to be connected to their village, not an easy thing to do considering the workers had to keep an eye out for the little cannibals.”

  Leninida yanked her dress from under the wicked witch’s foot and inspected it.

  “All noble deeds if it wasn’t for the fact that you did so only to line your own pockets,” she said while brushing away the dirt. “You wouldn’t have been so concerned for their well being if it wasn’t for these unique creatures ability to make such sweet things with their delightful magic for you to exploit. Your quest for silver taints their lives.”

  The wicked witch narrowed her eyes.

  “If it wasn’t for me, they would have been extinct within a decade. If the people in this part of Oz didn’t string them up, malnutrition would have done them in. The reason why they’re all under three feet tall is because they lived on sweets. They became cannibals to get the protein they avoided. And they’re not very bright cannibals at that. Six months ago I caught them trying to boil the Tin Woodsman. He’s still not right. Now the smallest bit of rain freezes him up. You know how far behind my timber quota is because of their stupidity?”

  Leninida set a hand on a grinning Munchkins head.

  “These creatures aren’t stupid, just uneducated. You and the other keepers of the wealth have intentionally kept all the workers ignorant. An informed worker threatens your profits. Ignorance allows you to take advantage of their labor and profit from it. Once the workers of Oz learn that their labor is the true engine of commerce, the need for money will disappear and workers will live prosperously, trading for what each person requires, not for selfish personal gain.”

  The wicked witch stepped close to the good witch and kept her voice low.

  “Cut the crap, Leninida. You may have these dimwits and some idiots in the coalmines snookered, but I know what you’re up to. You’re just waiting for all these poor slobs to start enough trouble so you can step in and take credit for all my hard work. You just may be the most wicked one of us all.”

  “Oh my poor misguided cousin. It is my wish to see that all the people of Oz live together in peace. That can only be accomplished once the acquisition of wealth and property is abandoned by all. I only wish to help these adorable little people and want to see after their well
being.”

  “Oh really, Leninida? Then why haven’t you bothered to help them before? Could it be that you didn’t want to become one of their meals?”

  “My little friends wouldn’t do that to me, now would you?”

  All the Munchkins shook their head, almost. The wicked witch saw one start to nod until the Munchkin next to him gave him a nudge.

  “You see? All they need is someone to show them what is right, not force them to do the bidding of capitalist greed.” She stepped into the middle of the square and waved her wand. A bubble enclosed around her. “Farewell my friends.”

  The wicked witch plucked a dandelion going to seed and blew on it. The pink bubble flew erratically out of sight.

  “Now get back to work.”

  “But we’re hungry,” a voice squeaked.

  “I’ll have another farmer fill a cart of food for you, but don’t expect him to hand deliver it here. I’ll have him slaughter a hog.”

  The majority of the Munchkins groaned.

  “You don’t like pork? What would you like? Beef?”

  “We like chicken,” said a Munchkin. “Taste like people.”

  “Fine. I’ll send a flock and you can roast them alive for all I care.” She stabbed a finger at the crowd. “But you’ll need to get rid of that murderous, savage mentality. I am working on changing your image. Munchkin Land Resort has a tentative opening in about a year from now. You will all be expected to be cute, playful, and nice by then. I want children to be your playmates and their parents to love you. You will be serving them, interacting with them, and seeing to their every whim. You are expected to be adorable and cuddly. I want the amusement park to be the favorite family vacation spot in Oz.”

  “How long do we have to do that?” asked a Munchkin.

  “Munchkin Land will be a three hundred and sixty-five day a year park. While it is open, you will all be the perfect hosts.”

  “Forever?” eeked another.

  “For as long as this venture makes a profit, and this will make a profit. I have sunk way too much silver into you knee-highs to not make it work. This is your purpose in life now. Make candy and entertain people.”