Over the next week the four visitors from Oz did the jobs which they had gotten well and enjoyed doing them very much also. The Scarecrow got the loads of laundry brought in by customers washed, dried, and pressed efficiently. The Tin Woodman enjoyed serving and delivering the bakery's goods to its customers, and he also enjoyed helping Fiona bake from time to time. Jack Pumpkinhead also liked serving and delivering to the customers who shopped at the supermarket. Last but not least, the Wogglebug really liked the benefits he had from thinking up good ads to write for the latest products coming out so that they would sale well and his boss seemed to always be impressed with his clever wit he used in writing out ads for products with phrases such as "The Wogglebug says, drink Hamm's Beer!" and "The Wogglebug says, buy Whitman's White Eggs!".

So for the first week everything went all good and fine for them all. However, when the second week of their work got started, everything went downhill.

The day started out like usual for the Scarecrow. He had arrived at the laundromat on time and had taken in a few very large loads of laundry, which today included a number of bedsheets and pillowcases instead of just the usual amount of clothes. He gathered them up and loaded them all into the washing machine and poured in what he hoped to be the right amount of cleaning fluids, and then turned the wash on. He then set the time on it to what he hoped he remembered was the correct amount of time. Then he went around to the other washing machines and put in more loads of clothes into them also.

Then once the timer had gone off on the first washing machine, he went right back to it and on opening it to take out the bedsheets and pillowcases to put into the dryer, he was quite startled when a heavy gush of water splashed out of the machine and onto him, and doused him

nearly all over. He looked up at the pipes connecting to the washing machines and saw to his horror that they were leaking quite badly. He knew this would not do at all and they had to be fixed as soon as possible.

Then he gathered up the soaking wet bedsheets and pillowcases in his arms, which only drenched them all the more, and loaded them all into the dryer beside him. Then he took a box of starch and began lightly sprinkling its contents into the dryer.

Then suddenly he slipped on the floor, which by now had become very wet from the leaking pipes overhead, and he ended up dropping the whole box of starch into the dryer. He saw this and knew that wasn't good and so he at once reached into the dryer to get the box out. But unfortunately his hands and arms were quite drenched and couldn't keep hold of the box and it kept slipping out of his grasp and falling deeper into the mass of bedsheets. Then suddenly it became entangled in the wet sheets and got lost. So the Scarecrow then plunged himself deeper into the dryer, but he still

couldn't get hold of the box, and so he just kept diving in deeper and deeper. And then he was suddenly all the way into the dryer, and stuck and unable to get out of it!

He tried to call out, but his voice was too muffled from the heavy sheets around him. Then he started wiggling and squirming as much as he could to try to pull himself out. And then all of sudden the toe of his left boot struck the "on" button of the dryer and he instantly found himself being caught up in a huge spinning cycle of air and heat!

The Tin Woodman's day had also started off like usual. He had given a few customers the orders they had come to pick up from the bakery. And then Fiona had called him into the kitchen to help her bake a fancy cake that had just been ordered by a Mrs. Myers for her and her husband's anniversary.

"I would bake it myself, except I have to make a large amount of deliveries today myself," Fiona had explained.

And so the Tin Woodman went into the kitchen and tied his apron around his tin torso tightly, and put the baker's cap onto his head, over his funnel hat, and then set about to making the cake. He started out well, putting in all of the right ingredients to just the right amount. And he was just about to start mixing them all together with the mixer, when he suddenly realized he had forgotten one of the ingredients that went in, vanilla.

So he quickly looked around for the bottle of vanilla that was around somewhere, then he spotted it in a far corner on the counter. He reached out quickly and grabbed a hold of it and took of the lid and began to pour it into the cake mix. He unfortunately did so without paying much attention to the bottle in his hand, or else he would have noticed what it really was, which was none other than his own oilcan! But he went on without noticing his mistake and then began mixing the batter all together with the mixer. Then he put it all into the pan and placed it into the oven to bake.

Jack Pumpkinhead's day at the supermarket had also began as it usually did. He started out by packing away the items that the customers had bought into the brown paper sacks and this went along quite well. Then his manager came to him and announced that today some new barrels of fruits had come in and he was to put them away into their correct stands. And so he set out at once to do so.

He first put away the new barrels of apples, then oranges, then peaches. And then he lastly began putting away the barrels of pumpkins into their own fruit stands. As he did this he found there were very many pumpkins, and he became so caught up in this task that he stopped thinking about anything else, and only thought of putting away pumpkins into the stand. And as an unfortunate consequence of this, he ended up taking off his own head and putting it away into the other pumpkins in the stand where it instantly became lost in all of the other pumpkins as the side with his face in it was tucked into the sides behind the other pumpkins.

So then, poor Jack suddenly found himself being blind to all around him. He then wondered where he had put his head and began stumbling around aimlessly looking for it around the store, all the while he accidentally knocked over things in it.

The Wogglebug's day at his own job had also started out as it usually had. He happily sat at the desk and looked over the papers that listed the new products that had just come out and were in need of advertisement and he checked off the ones he felt would be worthy of such.

He soon came across a product that was a very much new invention. It was an automatic dishwasher. He at once was intrigued by this product and set about thinking up a good advertisement phrase for it. He was sure that an invention as new and useful as this should have an ad that was worthy of its services and that also told clearly what it did, and perhaps was even just a little witty as his ads usually always were.

So he quickly thought up what he decided would be the perfect phrase for the advertisement. Which

was, "The Wogglebug says, this new invention will have your best china washed up, and your guests dinner dried out before dinner starts!" And then, quite pleased and satisfied with it he wrote up the ad, and printed it out and then sent it out straight away.

It was a few hours later for the Scarecrow at the laundromat when the dryer he was in finally stopped spinning. He then felt most unusually stiff, and flat, and just completely dried out. He then unfortunately had to wait a while longer before his boss came in and opened the dryer and found him in the sorry state he was in. He heard him gasp in shock, horror, and disbelief. Then he glanced up at him and saw his expression go from these things to a look of sheer fury and anger.

"What are you doing in there!?" he demanded. "You come out of there right this instant!"

"I wish I could," the Scarecrow replied weakly, "however, at the moment I am a bit too stiff to move for some reason."

His boss grimaced in great consternation, and then reached into the dryer and pulled the Scarecrow out of it. Then after setting him aside, he quickly took out the bedsheets and pillowcases that had also been in and let out a short cry of horror, and then one of rage.

"Oh no! Look at what you've done to these!" he shouted.

"Well, I wish I could look at them," the Scarecrow muttered helplessly. "But I can't seen to turn around very well right now to see. So what did I do to them?"

"What you did was you turned these sheets and cases into cardboard!" he shouted with agony and full-blown rage.

"Then does that mean they can't be slept in?" inquired the Scarecrow meekly.

"And it also means that you... are... fired!" he roared.

"Oh no!" wailed the Scarecrow. "Please, you mustn't fire me! I'm stuffed with straw and will burn all too easily!"

"Just shut up and get out!" his former boss said. "I wish I could," said the Scarecrow. "But like I

said, I am a little too stiff to move right now. Could you help me please?"

"With pleasure!" he replied.

Then, before the Scarecrow knew what was happening, he found himself being picked up and carried to the door, and then flung with great force out into the open air, and landing with a thud onto the pavement some feet away.

The Tin Woodman meanwhile had left the kitchen and had gone back into the bakery's main room

and had began serving the customer again like usual. He was sure everything was fine, until Fiona arrived back.

"I'm back," she announced. "Have you baked the cake all right?"

"Yes, I have," replied the Tin Woodman. "Just a while ago I put it into the oven and it should be done very shortly now."

"Good then," she said smiling. "I'd like to go in and check on it."

She then started for the kitchen, and she came to an abrupt stop, and turned around with her eyes wide as dishpans.

"Is something wrong?" asked the Tin Woodman with concern.

"Wrong?" she exclaimed. "Can you not smell the smoke that is coming out from underneath the kitchen door just now?"

"No, I'm afraid I cannot," he replied. "What does it smell like?"

"It smells like burning oil!" she exclaimed in much horror.

"Burning oil?" he repeated. "But how can oil be burning in the kitchen now?"

And then a terrible thought suddenly occurred to him, and his eyes also became wide.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed. "I couldn't have been that stupid, could I?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Fiona fearfully.

"I wasn't stupid enough get the vanilla mixed up with my oilcan, was I?" he said meekly.

"You did what!?" Fiona shrieked.

She then pulled the kitchen door open, and a thick cloud of black smoke wafted out of it. She shrieked again and rushed into the kitchen and pulled open the oven door. And there, to both her and the Tin Woodman's horrifying confirmation. The cake inside of it was burning and as black as coal.

"Oh no!" Fiona wailed with tears streaming out of her eyes. "Look at what you've done!"

"I'm sorry, I really am," said the Tin Woodman. "I should have watched what I was doing more closely I'm afraid."

Fiona let out a deep sob and then sniffed and wiped her eyes as she turned to him and said,

"Well, I know you're sorry, but you're not as sorry as I am that I hired you, I'm afraid."

"You mean... you won't let me come here to work for you anymore?" he asked sadly.

"Just what I mean," she replied. "Now if you will please leave here, I have a lot of cleaning up to do."

The Tin Woodman hung his head and turned and left the kitchen and the bakery.

Meanwhile at the supermarket, Jack was still searching in vain for his missing head. He suddenly bumped into someone who in turn looked up and let out a scream that could have made the glass windows of the store explode if it were any louder. Then the poor woman ran out from the store so fast she didn't notice the manager coming in the door and nearly knocked him over in her rush.

"What's her problem?" the manger wondered.

He then walked into the store and looked around. He saw the new pumpkins in the fruit stand. Then he could have sworn he heard a muffled sound coming from somewhere within them. He went up to their stand and took hold of one of the pumpkins, which felt surprisingly very light. He turned it around and saw the face carved into it which said to him,

"Pardon me, but have you by any chance seen my body around here anywhere?"

He nearly dropped the pumpkin in shock, and then he grimaced as he suddenly realized just what this meant.

"Jack!" he shouted

Then a few moments later, Jack's body came staggering and stumbling up to him. He then

promptly placed the pumpkin securely onto its neck.

"Oh, thank you, sir! I was so lost for a second there!" exclaimed Jack very gratefully. "Is something wrong?" he then asked as he noticed how red his manager's face had become.

"You are what is wrong!" he said. "You and your pumpkin head which you can't keep track of its whereabouts while I'm away! And I can't afford to have you and it frightening off my customers! You are so fired!"

"I am?" said Jack meekly. "What does that mean?"

"It means get out of here before I smash your head into a mush!" he roared at him.

So then Jack turned on his heel, and while holding tightly to his head he rushed out of the store so

much faster than his wooden legs would be expected to take him.

It was at this same time that the Wogglebug was sitting at his desk and checking off the ads he had done during the day on the list he had. Then all of a sudden the door burst wide open and his boss stormed into the room. His fists were clenched and his face had a very deep scowl on it as his eyes were flashing sparks of red in his direction.

"What is the meaning of this!" he demanded as he held up in his left clenched fist a paper which had the day's advertisement for the automatic dishwasher on it.

The Wogglebug looked up in confusion at his boss' apparent rage. "Why, it looks like the ad I wrote this morning for the automatic dishwasher," he said simply.

"You mean the one that will have the ones who buy its dinner washed up and dried out before it starts!" his boss roared. He then proceeded to rip

apart the paper in his hands. "Everyone who has seen this ad now thinks the company behind this invention is deliberately trying to rip them off! And all because of your ridiculous and uncalled for play-on-words in it!"

The Wogglebug looked just as taken aback as he felt. He promptly stood up and said, "Pardon me, sir! I wrote that very ad so as to make it sound clever and witty and also to get the people to want to purchase it. I mean it is after all a remarkable new invention."

"It is! And that is what it should be marketed as!" his boss said with his face now as red as a beat. "Not as something that makes the people who want it think it will ruin their guest's dinner! And you mean to tell me you think it's clever and witty!"

The Wogglebug trembled as his boss began slowly stepping towards him now. "Why, I never intended to make them think such thing!" he said helplessly. "I just... just wanted to be creative!"

"Well, you weren't!" he said. "And now I really recommend that you bug yourself out of my quarters before I lose my control and -"

He had to say no more as the Wogglebug had already bounded out of the room and left the building. Once he was outside, he stopped to catch his breath and wonder how he was ever going to tell this to his companions.

Just then, he looked up and saw Jack Pumpkinhead clutching tightly to his head as he was running up to him from down the street so fast it was a wonder he hadn't already popped one of his knee joints out.

"Why, Jack," he said. "What's happened that has made you run so fast?"

"Well, you would run like that too if you had just been threatened to have your head smashed into a pie!" Jack exclaimed quite breathlessly.

"Oh my! Why would your boss threaten you so?" he inquired.

"Because I lost my head among the other pumpkins today and so he fired me, as he called it," Jack explained sorrowfully.

Just then, the Tin Woodman came hobbling down the street so slowly that he wasn't even clanking at all as he usually did when he moved. The Wogglebug looked up and on seeing him he said,

"Why, what happened with you? Don't tell me you lost your job also?"

"But, I did, I'm afraid," admitted the Tin Woodman miserably. "I just wish that oil and vanilla could bemore easy to distinguish between the other when mixed into cake batter."

The Wogglebug winced in sympathy. Then suddenly he looked up and felt like laughing at the

sight of the Scarecrow who was staggering unevenly up the street toward them. He was all sucked inward from the top of his hat to the ends of his toes and the bits of straw that stuck out from him were all curled up. He was also as thin as a wire almost.

"Oh dear me!" the Wogglebug exclaimed on seeing the Scarecrow, and trying his best to mask his amusement with great concern for him. "What on Earth has happened to you, my poor friend?"

"It's a long story," said the Scarecrow frowning. "But in short, I've just gotten dried out... and also fired."

The Wogglebug cleared his throat to keep from laughing once again and then said, "Well, I'm sure your current condition will be only temporary, my friend. However, it seems that each one of us has been fired from his job, and so now we need to find new ones if we still hope to save the old school from being demolished."

"And where do you propose we look?" inquired the Tin Woodman.

"Well, I propose we look in the newspapers of today and hopefully have better luck at finding more suitable jobs and working conditions for each of us," the Wogglebug said. "First, however, we must all get back to our hotel and remedy our Scarecrow friend's condition here!"