A/N: Hey there, long time, no see. Here's a silly AU one-shot that has nothing to do with anything we have posted (though maybe a distant relative to 'Of Virgins and Candles'). We aren't technically back, but maybe one day.

Per usual: We do not own The Outsiders or The Wizard of Oz.

The weather had been bad all day, but Pony hadn't worried much about it until that funnel cloud. He had to run the rest of the way home – although he had been jogging to begin with considering the pounding rain – and by the time he hit his front porch, there was a full blown tornado approaching. It still looked to be miles away, and Pony found it difficult to tear his eyes away from the terrible sight.

As shingles ripped off a house further down the block, he rushed inside, knowing he'd be ripped off his porch a lot easier than that roofing. He yelled for his brothers as he raced into his room, reaching under his bed to find a flashlight. The power wouldn't last much longer with the way the storm was raging. He got his hands on the light and switched it on before he yelled again. Neither Darry nor Soda answered.

The storm cellar. Of course that's where they would be. And Darry was probably down there muttering about how Pony just never used his head, choosing that afternoon to go to the library when he knew a storm would be coming.

For once, Pony couldn't disagree. He climbed to his feet, hoping like hell he had time to get out back before that tornado reached their house, just as the window beside his bed exploded. He felt a sudden pain, a sharp jolt to the head that at once both blinded him and made him see a rainbow of colors behind his eyes.

XXX

It felt like layers of fog were smothering him when Pony woke up on the floor beside his bed. He struggled to sit up, struggling even more to recall what happened. It wasn't until he noticed the flashlight beside him that he remembered the storm. Clambering to his feet as best he could, he called for his brothers. Just like before, there was no answer. He was about to head to the back door to check the storm cellar when something pulled his attention to the front porch. He opened the door and found himself blinded by the sun.

No, not the sun. The road.

The … yellow brick road.

Pony put a hand to his head, hoping to quell the enormous headache and make sense of his front yard because it was no longer his front yard.

It was this winding yellow road, made of bricks, surrounded by flowers that Pony could not recall having ever seen before. As he walked outside, he held up his hand to shield his eyes. He just couldn't make sense of how the sun could be shining so brightly onto that yellow road after such a bad storm.

But as he glanced around, he realized at least one explanation, although it didn't make any sense either.

"I've got a feeling I'm not in Tulsa anymore," he mumbled to himself.

He was still looking around when he spotted a strange bubble of some sort careening toward him. He ducked and when he looked back, a guy was standing there instead. A guy that looked an awful lot like Dallas Winston.

"Hey, man," he said, giving Pony a once over, "you the new gang leader in town or something?"

"What?"

"I got word that there was a new leader in town. That a new leader – " Dallas leaned a little closer, a smirk on his face. " – get this, would ya? – dropped a house on the old gang leader. A house. You believe that shit? It's cool as hell. So, you him or what?"

"Dropped a house …" Pony repeated, as he walked back toward his own house. "On somebody?"

He was about to walk back over to Dally and punch him for pulling some sort of stupid, unfunny, elaborate prank on him, when he spotted the legs and torso of somebody, some guy, sticking out from under the house. It was like the house had been ripped off its foundation back in Tulsa and, quite literally, dropped into this new place. And right on top of somebody.

"Oh my God," Pony said, horrified at the sight. "You gotta help me! We gotta save him!"

Dally scoffed. "Save him? You're shitting me, right?"

Pony was on his knees beside the person, trying desperately to drag him out from under the house. He looked back at Dally.

"Help me!"

Dally shook his head in disgust. "No fucking way. He was an asshole. He's been running this town for years, just begging for someone to off him, and BAM. A house. He deserved a whole fucking building, but I guess the house did the job.

"You gotta tell me something, though," he continued. "Are you a good gang leader or are you some dick? Because if I wanted some dick running this place, I'd just do it my-fucking-self."

"I'm not a gang leader at all."

Dally narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you a fucking cop?"

"What? Of course not."

"Look, man, if you came here to make trouble, you made it. It was good trouble, but you can be back on your way to wherever the hell you came from."

"You know, if you could make that happen," Pony said, walking back toward the porch, "that'd be great."

He was mid-stride when a puff of smoke appeared in front of him. Pony choked on the smoke – cheap cigarettes, it smelled like – and waved it away, only to find another guy standing behind it.

"Who the fuck killed my brother?" he asked, a cigarette bobbing between his lips.

"Listen, Curly," Dally said.

"You stay out of this, asshole." Curly turned his attention back to Pony. "I'm here to take care of whoever took care of my brother. It was you, wasn't it?"

"It was an accident," Pony said. "I swear. I didn't mean to kill anybody. I really didn't."

"Didn't mean to, huh? Accident? Well, listen, motherfucker, I can cause accidents too."

Just as Curly took a step forward to inflict whatever kind of accident he was promising, Dally spoke up again.

"Ain't you forgettin' the jacket?"

"Oh, shit, yeah," Curly said. He took a step toward the house but as he did, something weird happened. He looked down at the body of his brother. "It's gone. What the fuck did you do with it?"

Dally shrugged and glanced at Pony. "Too late."

Pony looked down, suddenly finding himself wearing a leather jacket he had only seen on the body beneath the house. It was a perfect fit.

Curly stalked over to him. "You give me back that jacket. I'm the only one that knows how to use that fucking thing. You don't even know what to do with it."

Dally looked at Pony. "You better figure it out pretty fucking fast. There's a fucking million leather jackets out there. If that one wasn't important, he wouldn't want it."

"You stay out of this, you bastard, or else you'll be on the business end of an accident too."

"Shut the fuck up, Curly. You can't do shit here. You better leave before somebody drops a house on your sorry ass too."

"Screw you, guys." Curly pointed a threatening finger at Pony. "I ain't got a problem biding my time. You just try staying out of my way, just try it! I'll get you. I'll get you and your little fairy friend, too!"

There was another plume of cigarette smoke that sent Pony into another fit of coughs. When he waved away the smoke, Curly was gone and Dally was grinning.

"What a dick. You sure know how to make new friends, kid. You'd be better off getting the hell out of Oz sooner than later."

Pony couldn't agree more. "Not a problem. Now … how do I do that?"

Dally looked bored out of his mind. "Jesus Christ. Follow the yellow brick road, dumbass."

That weird bubble that had brought Dally there was starting to form again, and he began drifting away.

"Just follow the yellow brick road?" Pony asked.

"Yeah, idiot. And don't take off that jacket!"

With that, Pony was left in his not-front yard alone. "Follow the yellow brick road," he muttered to himself. "Why not?"