A tale of epic proportions, (if only because the hero is tall) stunning feats of bravery, (even though they were edited out) dazzling special effects (even though they aren't, because, you know, this is a story, and it is difficult to incorporate special effects into print) and beautiful women. (even though they are virtually non-existent)

Here is Chapter Two. I do hope someone is reading this, but if you would post a review, (that was a hint!) I'd love you forever. Anyway, Chapter Two is just as full of random silliness as Chapter One. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Oz. Nope.

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"What?" Bob asked curiously.

"I said…HORRORS BEYOND THE IMAGINATION!"

"Ah. That's what I thought you said."

When they had reached the house, Bob asked the same question of his mother.

"It leads to…HORRORS BEYOND IMAGINATION!" she bellowed in his face.

He scratched his head. "What do you mean?"

"Go outside and play with dirt or something."

Bob complied and ducked (quite literally since the doorframe was a good deal shorter than him) back into the sunlight. He saw that the neighbor Munchkin was sitting on his steps looking rather dejected. Bob wandered over.

"Howdy," he said with a grin.

The neighbor Munchkin merely sighed.

"What's the matter?" Bob asked.

"My wife asked if her new dress made her look fat, and I answered truthfully."

"Tsk, tsk, that wasn't very clever."

The neighbor Munchkin glared and looked away.

"So…um…" Bob said, "Do you know where the Red Brick Road goes?"

"It leads to…HORRORS BEYOND IMAGINATION!"

"Why does everyone keep saying that!"

"I dunno. They gave out pamphlets a few years back that said that we had to say that when ever someone asked that question," the neighbor Munchkin said.

"Why didn't I get one?" Bob inquired.

"They probably figured that you had never even noticed the Red Brick Road since you are so tall," the neighbor Munchkin said, looking up at him.

"Ahem. Of course I have! Do you think I'm blind?" Bob said, "I've known it was there since…well, not since today if that's what you're thinking!"

"I wasn't…?"

"Good! Let's keep it that way!" Bob said angrily.

Although Bob wasn't necessarily a scary guy, when he is almost three feet taller than you, it can be a bit intimidating. "Meep," was all the terrified Munchkin could say.

"Now, what was I doing again?" Bob asked thin air since the Munchkin had run away. "Oh yes, I was going to go work on world peace….No, that wasn't it. That's just silly. Oh yeah, I was going to play with dirt."

Bob short attention span kicked in momentarily and he decided that he should just go on the Red Brick Road to discover where it led.

"Mommy!" he called into his house.

"What do you want?"

"I'm going on a trip. I probably won't be back for some weeks."

"Have a good tri--Oh wait, that was almost nice, I meant to say, 'Good riddance!'"

With that matter cleared up, Bob made his way to the beginning of the two roads. Starting on the tip of the curlicue since that was the way of things, and since it gave him that delightful dizzy feeling, he started his walk, taking special care to add a skip to his step. Before he had gotten three feet, there was a puff of smoke over to his right. He stopped mid-skip and gaped at the plume of bright yellow smoke. He heard a cough.

"Be warned, Cloud of Yellow Smoke! You may have the ability to cough, but I am armed with pepper spray!" Bob yelled in what he hoped was a voice that was shaking less than he was.

There was another cough and the smoke drifted away, leaving a disgruntled looking woman.

"Bloody cornfields! Is that how Clouds like yourself reproduce? I think the father must have been a human because that thing doesn't resemble you at all!" Bob yelled at the retreating smoke.

"Huh?" the woman asked.

"Never mind, you can't help the morality of your parents."

"Erm…ok?" the woman said uncertainly.

He took his first real look of her. She looked to be about his age, but she had no arms. She was a normal height for most humans, that is, too tall to be a Munchkin. She had dark hair put in a bun that looked in need of a good washing. She was wearing a black dress that came to her knees and she had on hideous black and white striped stockings with red heels that sparkled in the sunlight.

"Shiny!" he gasped, entranced by the glittering shoes.

"Um, yeah."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, working hard to pull his eyes from the shiny beauty.

"I lost my coffee mug. I thought maybe I had left it here."

"Have you ever been here before?"

"Well…no. But it could still be here, couldn't it?" she said as if pointing out the obvious.

"I suppose," he agreed, "But where did you get your fashion advice? You look awful!"

"I resent that. My father made me these shoes, and I acquired these stockings from a sale at Oz-Mart! The dress, well, I've had it a while."

"Still, the ensemble is…lacking. So…was it a special coffee mug?" he asked.

"Oh yes. I had it customized for two cents per letter. It said 'Wicked Witch of the East' in cute little black letters," she said with a sigh.

"Wait, I think I'm supposed to have a revelation here. What did the coffee mug say again?"

"'Wicked Witch of the East' in cute little black letters?" she said hesitantly.

"Aha! You like cute little black letters, do you?" he said triumphantly.

"Well, yes, but I think you were supposed to gather that I am a witch…"

"You're a witch! Burn her...uh, burn you!" he cried.

"No, no, no! Don't do that!" she cried back.

"Well…ok. I won't. Besides, I have no matches. So, what do we do now?"

"Um, I guess I'll just stand here, on this exact spot, and stare into space, since there is absolutely no chance of anything falling on me," she said confidently.

"Wait, what's that?" he asked, pointing at the sky.

She looked up. "Nothing, I'm sure. Probably just a very pregnant bird."

"Well, maybe you should move. It might be pregnant on you," he said in a concerned voice.

"No, there's no chance of anything hitting me. I'll just stay put," she said.

"Well, if you insist," he said, backing up slowly as the 'pregnant bird' got closer and closer.

The Witch examined her nails. Well, she would have if she had nails. Or hands. Or arms.

The 'pregnant bird' came closer and closer. It seemed to Bob that it was either a very boxy pregnant bird or a farmhouse.

Then came a noise much like the squashing of an armless bug in striped stockings and shiny red shoes.