SEVEN
Just as with the intersection, the small farmhouse appeared almost instantly. So did the basket again hanging on Phoebe's arm.
"Great," said Phoebe, pulling back the cloth covering and peering inside the basket. "Looks like I can't even get rid of this. Well there's nothing inside it that's of any use."
She looked at the farmhouse and then looked across the road at the apple trees. She thought for a minute, and then remembered this scene from the movie.
"Oh, that's right," she said. "Talking trees that throw apples. That's gotta hurt. I think I'd just as soon forget this part if you don't mind"
"Hey, Dorothy," said Cole, "let me show you how to get apples."
"Cole, I don't think," began Phoebe.
"Hey you worm infested rotting piles of kindling," said Cole to the trees, sticking him thumbs in his ears and sticking out his tongue. "Your momma was a sapling your. Your father was a weeping willow."
"That's not in the movie," said Phoebe.
Suddenly an apple struck her in the head.
"Hey that hurt, " she cried out.
More apples came flying at Phoebe. She held up the basket as a shield against the flying apples. Although she wasn't completely successful against the projectiles, they stopped within moments and she seemed uninjured.
"Come on Dorothy," said Cole gathering up the apples. "This is good eating."
"I'm sure," said Phoebe, walking toward the trees, "but I'm more interested in finding.... Oh there he is."
"A woodsman," said Cole, moving up next to Phoebe.
"Yeah," said Phoebe. "Chopping down a tree a year ago and it started raining and he rusted. That must have been some rainstorm. Hand me the oil can on that stump."
Cole handed Phoebe the oil can and she began to oil the woodsman. As she did, she recognized him even through the silver coating on his body. It was Darryl.
"Hey you screwed up," called Phoebe into the air. "There aren't any African Americans in this film."
"Afri-What?" asked Darryl.
"Nothing," said Phoebe. "Okay let me think. The tin woodsman has no heart."
"That's right," said Darryl. "The tins man who built me didn't...."
"...Didn't give you a heart, yeah, I know," said Phoebe.
"We're going to see the Wizard," said Cole. "He's going to get Dorothy home. And he's going to give me a brain."
"Do you think he could give me a heart?" asked Darryl.
"Sure," said Phoebe, "Why not? It's in the script after all."
"Could I come with you?" asked Darryl.
"That's the plan," said Phoebe. "The next time we meet that warlock you can use your axe to send him to the underworld permanently."
"Warlock?" questioned Darryl. "What warlock?"
"Never mind," said Phoebe. "Come on. If I'm not mistaken, Leo will be the next one we meet. He's probably right around the corner."
The three turned and headed back to the yellow brick road. Just as they reached the road a pillar of smoke erupted on the roof of the farmhouse across the road. As it cleared, Prue stood on the roof, broomstick in hand.
Just as with the intersection, the small farmhouse appeared almost instantly. So did the basket again hanging on Phoebe's arm.
"Great," said Phoebe, pulling back the cloth covering and peering inside the basket. "Looks like I can't even get rid of this. Well there's nothing inside it that's of any use."
She looked at the farmhouse and then looked across the road at the apple trees. She thought for a minute, and then remembered this scene from the movie.
"Oh, that's right," she said. "Talking trees that throw apples. That's gotta hurt. I think I'd just as soon forget this part if you don't mind"
"Hey, Dorothy," said Cole, "let me show you how to get apples."
"Cole, I don't think," began Phoebe.
"Hey you worm infested rotting piles of kindling," said Cole to the trees, sticking him thumbs in his ears and sticking out his tongue. "Your momma was a sapling your. Your father was a weeping willow."
"That's not in the movie," said Phoebe.
Suddenly an apple struck her in the head.
"Hey that hurt, " she cried out.
More apples came flying at Phoebe. She held up the basket as a shield against the flying apples. Although she wasn't completely successful against the projectiles, they stopped within moments and she seemed uninjured.
"Come on Dorothy," said Cole gathering up the apples. "This is good eating."
"I'm sure," said Phoebe, walking toward the trees, "but I'm more interested in finding.... Oh there he is."
"A woodsman," said Cole, moving up next to Phoebe.
"Yeah," said Phoebe. "Chopping down a tree a year ago and it started raining and he rusted. That must have been some rainstorm. Hand me the oil can on that stump."
Cole handed Phoebe the oil can and she began to oil the woodsman. As she did, she recognized him even through the silver coating on his body. It was Darryl.
"Hey you screwed up," called Phoebe into the air. "There aren't any African Americans in this film."
"Afri-What?" asked Darryl.
"Nothing," said Phoebe. "Okay let me think. The tin woodsman has no heart."
"That's right," said Darryl. "The tins man who built me didn't...."
"...Didn't give you a heart, yeah, I know," said Phoebe.
"We're going to see the Wizard," said Cole. "He's going to get Dorothy home. And he's going to give me a brain."
"Do you think he could give me a heart?" asked Darryl.
"Sure," said Phoebe, "Why not? It's in the script after all."
"Could I come with you?" asked Darryl.
"That's the plan," said Phoebe. "The next time we meet that warlock you can use your axe to send him to the underworld permanently."
"Warlock?" questioned Darryl. "What warlock?"
"Never mind," said Phoebe. "Come on. If I'm not mistaken, Leo will be the next one we meet. He's probably right around the corner."
The three turned and headed back to the yellow brick road. Just as they reached the road a pillar of smoke erupted on the roof of the farmhouse across the road. As it cleared, Prue stood on the roof, broomstick in hand.