I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE THINGS!
Raoul was having a bad day. His hair had gotten all un-perfect and un-magical in
the rain, and at least six girls had yelled "FOP!" at him on the street. He threw his drenched yellow-ducky raincoat he used for protection on a chair and flopped on the couch, picking up a newspaper on his way down. FOOMF. He had landed.
Flipping through, he saw the story of how the famouse opera singer Christine had left her image-obsessed husband for her opera manager, Firmin. She was doing well and rolling in wealth while her ex-husband was reduced to a small apartment reading about her leaving him in the newspaper. He sighed and placed the newspaper face-down on the armrest. Something caught his eye in the personal ads. There was a rather large picture of a stunning blond gazing up at him from the paper. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he delved further into the mystery of the pretty lady. (He always loved playing detective.) The add read: s/w female. Was just left by fiancée. Looking for LTR. Needs someone capable of ruling with her. 555 the palace, emerald city. Call 555-8602. Doing the most daring thing he had ever done, Raoul picked up the phone.
He nervously waited as the phone rang once. Twice. Thrice. Over and over until finally
"Hello, you've reached Glinda the Good."
"Hello, my name is…" Raoul was rudely cut off by the answering machine.
"I'm not here right now, I'm probably out ruling or dancing, either one! insert girlish giggle here but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can! Buh bye!" beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
Being the scardy cat wimp he is, Raoul hung up the phone. Glinda the Good would have to wait until later. Right now, he needed a cookie.
More to come… will get funnier!