Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked (the book and musical) or The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and their characters. I humbly bow and acknowledge the fact that they are the creation of Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and L.F. Baum. However, the characters live with me in the realm of fanfiction, and in all my "Wicked" memorabilia.
The title and ending quote are from the poem "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe—a deeply troubled man with a knack for horror.
This story, long-overdue, is a spin-off of the splendid Official Fanfiction University of Middle-Earth by the brilliant Camilla Sandman. After finishing this story, directly proceed to read hers.
AN: I was inspired to write the introduction by the girls on my floor who, at ten o'clock at night, were arguing about what they were going to wear out that night. If you haven't read OFUM or any of its spin-offs, then you'll find out the purpose of the "minis" in addition to what they are spawned from in the next chapter. I will use real names only if your pen-name isn't an actual name or sounds awkward. College classes are sucking the life and creativity out of me, so updates will be sporadic. Also, if you haven't done so, go read my much better and more serious "Wicked" fanfic, "Changed for the Better."
Thanks to all my reviewers, participants, and staff which includes Emily, Lady Bianca, and AnimeLuvr1. Also, lots of love and thanks to Yvi because she's just an awesome person who sends me nice emails and provides great constructive criticism.
Emily: I borrowed your quote, and I love you much. Don't worry, the "Ooks" will still be featured, just not as the "minis."
Important Note: To everyone seeking to enroll or apply for a staff position, FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS! They are clearly displayed at the beginning of each of the last three chapters. In addition to that, please do NOT review me saying something along the lines of "write my chapter" as you will only succeed in irritating me. Everyone who's enrolled will be featured in good time.
Chapter 4: "Quoth the Raven..." or The Art of Flaming Discovered
"You can't wear pink! I'm wearing pink!" screamed Glinda-number-twelve at Glinda-number-twenty.
"Pink is so my color!" insisted Twenty.
"I so planned to wear it yesterday!" retorted Twelve.
"Well, you're so gonna have to find another color to wear because I'm wearing pink!" said Twenty.
"I wear pink everyday! So, both of you are going to have to wear another color!" interjected not another Glinda, but PhantomAngel22.
The girls continued to squabble about whose color was actually pink, what days each of them wore pink, and who planned to wear it first today. They seemed almost on the verge of becoming violent.
Abby groaned in defeat. She was not going to be able to sleep in this morning. Rolling out of bed, she groggily searched around for her toiletries. Once they were obtained, she headed out to the lavatory. When she returned, it seemed the girls had finally reached a compromise of sorts. All wore pink, but each of the shades differed.
Abby proceeded to open her suitcase and rummage through her clothes. She needed something to catch Glinda's attention, something that would make her stand out from all the other Glinda fangirls. She wanted to wear a shade of pink never seen by Glinda. The good witch would then ask her as to where she came across this lovely shade of pink. Abby would tell her, and Glinda would insist upon Abby showing her the place immediately. That would be the first of many shopping trips they would embark on. Soon, they would be inseparable, the best of friends, and any friend so dear to Glinda would eventually become dear to Elphaba as well; that was what Abby reasoned anyway.
"Hey, guys, what pink are you all wearing?" asked Abby. She knew she couldn't wear the same shade of pink as any of the other girls in her room not only because she would fail to stand out but also due to the fact that she'd end up in a heated argument with one of the girls about it.
"Rose, Peony, Carnation," responded Glinda-number-twenty, PhantomAngel22, and Glinda-number-twelve in corresponding order.
Abby nodded, plucking out three shirts, a pair of pants, and four skirts that were any one of the colors mentioned. There was still a wide variety of pink left in her wardrobe. She decided to wear blue jeans and a hot pink, quarter-length sleeved shirt with silver glitter stars. It would definitely impress Glinda, Abby thought, as it was both pink and sparkly.
She was suddenly aware that Glinda-number-twenty was glowering at her.
"You're wearing my shirt," she said coldly. Abby looked at her shirt and then at Twenty's; they were identical with the exception of color.
"I'm not changing," said Abby, crossing her arms. She stared, equally as cold, back at the other girl. Neither of the two planned to leave until the other had changed.
Meanwhile, Miss Lan paced around her office, muttering words, and gesturing wildly. She was practicing her welcome speech and analyzing ever aspect of it to make sure that it was imposing enough as well as grammatically correct.
Emily, the guidance counselor, sat at the desk intently doodling colorful pictures with a box of sixty-four crayons—one of the rare uncanonical items in OWFU.
Professor Spork was attempting to count and make a list of all the Mini-Time Dragons. It was important to keep track of them not because they posed a danger to the students but because of the havoc they could wreck if not accounted for.
Lady Bianca was creating a lengthy and detailed syllabus for her course in cannon accuracy.
"OR SEVERE CONSEQUENCES SHALL ENSUE!" thundered Miss Lan slamming her hand down on the desk, startling the other three people, as she finished her speech. "Did that sound intimidating enough?" she asked.
"It certainly emphasizes your point," noted Lady Bianca.
"It should be quite effective at instilling fear,'" said Emily, who, having recovered from her startled state, began drawing an exaggerated portrait of an angry Miss Lan, complete with squinty eyes and a large, open mouth.
"You sounded as loud as the Time Dragon's roar," said Professor Spork, nodding her head in agreement.
Miss Lan listened to her co-workers comments, pleased. Apparently the voice projection spell she had requested from Elphaba worked.
"Almost time for the introduction meeting," she said glancing at her watch.
"Should be fun," said Emily looking up from her drawing.
"Let's head out then," added Professor Spork as she walked out of the office still adding to her list. Lady Bianca and Emily followed suit. Miss Lan was last to leave as she locked the door. She didn't want any fangirls getting into and tampering with her documents and tools for running the university. Also, she wanted to prevent her personal space from being contaminated by lousy fanfiction writers and pseudo-fans.
Caitlin Marie Reilly was coming down the stairs. She was trying to find her way to auditorium using a detailed map of Shiz's campus. She couldn't read a map to save her life. She failed to notice that there were clearly posted signs directing the way to the auditorium.
"Ohhh, I'm sowwie" she said in an overly cheery voice as she bumped into someone. She looked down to find that she had bumped into a person who was tinier than her already "tiny" height of five feet, three inches tall. "Finally, a normal Ozian," thought Caitlin when she saw that the person she had run into had brown eyes. She couldn't understand why she kept running into all these blue-eyed Ozians. Everyone knew that all Ozians had brown eyes.
"Excuse me," said Miss Lan politely.
"I'm Caitlin Marie Reilly," the girl in front of Miss Lan said, her voice so sweet that it was enough to drive a person into Diabetic Shock. Miss Lan wanted to go into an epileptic fit. "But, I go by 'Kat' 'cuz 'Caitlin Marie Reilly' is soooo awful. Also, I often go by the name 'The Raven.'" The girl smiled again; Miss Lan could feel the fit coming on.
"She hasn't given you cause to hurt her yet, so keep control," thought Miss Lan silently. "I'm Miss Lan, the headmistress," she said.
"Oh, your soooo uber kool! I'm soooo honored you let me be in this kool university thingie of yours!"
"'Kool university thingie,'" thought Miss Lan. "Wow, what an eloquent description." Aloud and in a very cool tone she said, "Yes, well, you did exceed the 'basic requirements' for enrollment; I'm glad you chose to enroll of your own free will." "And I'm going to have fun breaking you down," she added silently.
"Yes, well I've been told I'm a good writer," arrogantly responded the girl, tossing her black hair that was pulled back in a "perfect" ponytail that had not a single strand out of place.
"And the person who told you that was probably on drugs," thought Miss Lan.
One thing Miss Lan did not like was arrogance, especially from bad writers, well in addition to rudeness, poor grammar, bad spelling, lack plot development, people incapable of tolerating constructive criticism, people who couldn't recognize constructive criticism, Mary-Sues, and all around stupid people—almost all of these characteristics applied to Caitlin Marie Reilly.
"I know Sorcery isn't among the courses offered, but I was wondering, since I have these powers which are darker than Elphaba's, if perhaps you could make an allowance. It would be simply awful if I made something blow up or disappear because I didn't have the proper training. I do so love magic," said the girl finally getting to the point after rambling for about five minutes.
"Wouldn't it be awful if you just simply disappeared or blew up," thought Miss Lan. Extreme torture was one of the methods commonly employed by fanfiction universities everywhere. This girl obviously didn't have any sense in her; she had made herself into a Mary-Sue. She was lucky that she was at OWFU and not wandering around the realm of fanfiction. She'd be dead the minute she entered a fandom. It took only a brief glance for people to know instantly whether or not you were a Mary-Sue, and directly following that glance would be the end. Did she honestly think that she was going to be automatically adored by everyone she met? And that Miss Lan would willingly cater to her?
Aloud, Miss Lan said, bluntly, "No."
"What!" exclaimed Caitlin Marie Reilly. She couldn't understand why Miss Lan had not instantly taken a liking to her.
"No," repeated Miss Lan. "If you need a definition, please feel free to make use of the library's vast collection of dictionaries."
"But I have powers! See?" said The Raven, conjuring a small ball of flames in her hand.
"I have power too. It's called, 'authority,'" Miss Lan replied, failing to pay attention to the display as she stepped past the girl. She was determined to be punctual at the ceremony.
"Excuse me, I do not like rudeness," "The Raven" called after smartly.
"I'm shocked; we actually have something in common," Miss Lan said, unfazed. However, she noticeably quickened her walking pace.
The Raven was determined to gain some sort of recognition for her "talents." Catching up to Miss Lan, she continued to harangue the headmistress to brink of insanity.
Finally, having neared the auditorium, Miss Lan, in a moment of pure randomness caused by extreme desperation, turned around wildly and exclaimed, "OH, LOOK! IT'S JESUS!"
"WHERE!" asked "The Raven," in an excited tone. She whirled around to face the direction Miss Lan was looking in and madly searched about for the holy figure. The headmistress seized the opportunity to dash into the haven that was the auditorium.
Abby was sitting sulkily waiting for the arrival of the headmistress and the start of the opening ceremony. She had lost to Glinda-number-twenty in the battle for the shirt, and the fact that the real Glinda had complimented the wannabe only worsened the situation. It wasn't fair. She had been outnumbered when it came to voting on the best way to settle the situation; the majority of the group felt that a "Wicked" trivia test, specifically related to Glinda would determine who deserved to wear the shirt that would definitely obtain the attention of Glinda.
Since Abby had only read a summary, listened to the soundtrack, and seen a few clips of the show, she was automatically at a disadvantage. Then, following more arguing, the other girls decided to incorporate facts from the book as well. At that moment, any slight chance Abby had of winning dissipated.
When a fangirl burst late into the auditorium, panting, Abby was glad to see she wasn't the only one whose day had gotten off to a bad start. This girl must also be one of the die-hard "Wicked" fans thought Abby. She was wearing an old-fashioned, yet pretty, black dress, complete with boots that matched the style of the dress. Her hair was pulled back neatly in a bun.
"I wonder how comfortable she is," pondered Abby. "That outfit doesn't look like it was designed for running or a twelve-year-old."
The girl quickly regained her composure. She drew herself up to her full height, tilted her head up high, and bore a confident expression as she strode down to and ascended on to the platform. Abby's mouth, and those of many others, dropped at the sight of the cannon characters nodding slightly at her. The three non-canon characters on stage moved towards and seemingly began to confer with her.
"What does she think she can get away with being up there and acting like she's all that because she's so young, short, and cute!" thought a riled Abby. "They're going to give it to her, and it's gonna serve her right!"
"I can't believe she's that close to Fiyero and not making any moves toward him! If I were that close, I 'd be all over him! Forget Elphaba!" cried Hannah, the largest Fiyero glomper, enviously.
The entire audience was expecting the girl to get sharply reprimanded and struck down by lightning at the least. One could imagine the shock they received when the girl stepped behind the podium on the stage which, strangely, she looked taller behind.
Before stepping onto the stool cleverly built into and hidden behind the podium, Miss Lan turned to Emily and asked, "Do you think I should tell them right off the bat? The shock might kill them you know."
"Nah," replied Emily. "If the shock of learning that their fanfiction was horrible didn't kill them, then I hardly doubt that telling them your real age will."
Abby continued to stare in disbelief at the petite female on the stage. Where was the headmistress? Surely she wouldn't allow a random fangirl, let alone a twelve-year-old one, to take her place. Wait a minute, no, the girl, she couldn't be, holy shit, she was!
"Ok, let's get the facts straight!" said Miss Lan projecting her voice so that it boomed throughout the room much to her delight. "You will address me as Miss Lan; that's pronounced "L-AW-N" NOT "L-ANN." No, I am not twelve! I am currently eighteen years old. Yes, I am short! I am four foot, nine and a half inches tall. No, I am not Chinese! I'm Vietnamese. Yes, I am the headmistress and a bitch! No, I will not answer your stupid questions! Yes, you have good cause to fear me! No, I am not finished!"
With that statement, everyone's mouths closed up, and all questions were silenced.
"Now, I introduce to you my staff..."
"Miss Lan! Miss Lan!" interrupted a familiar, syrupy voice.
"Sweet Oz, no!" the headmistress thought.
"I couldn't find Jesus!" continued a pale, black haired girl, with rimless glasses, whose eyes "twinkled innocently" as she approached the stage.
"Well, that is too bad," Miss Lan replied dryly. "Now, please find and take a seat."
"You know it was very rude of you to leave me behind like that, and you couldn't even tell me where Jesus was!" The Raven proceeded to climb up the stairs and onto the stage.
The audience leaned forward in anticipation of what would happen next.
Elphaba moved guardedly in front of Fiyero.
Miss Lan stepped down from her stool and crossed the stage.
Lady Bianca smirked. Poetic Justice was about to be served.
Professor Spork looked away. She couldn't watch.
The rest of the canon characters moved backward. Crope and Tibbett were taking and placing bets as to what Miss Lan's reaction would be.
Emily, who brought along paper and her box of sixty-four crayons almost everywhere she went, whipped out a fresh sheet of paper and held a crayon in hand, ready to immortalize the moment in art.
The bold fangirl continued her spiel. "And you know I don't like rudeness! I have these powers you know, if you bothered to read my story you would know that! Of course you probably didn't though, and I worked soooo hard on it! I soooo make an awesome fourth witch of Oz! You just can't or don't want to recognize talent when you see it! I enrolled in this school, so that I could show everyone my talent as a sorceress and writer..."
Miss Lan was fuming. The girl would not shut up about how great she and her story were. She actually believed she was accepted into OWFU based on talent! Talent didn't come about until you were out! Until then, a person had potential. Although very familiar with her no flaming policy, the headmistress was in serious danger of violating it.
In an attempt to calm down, Miss Lan thought back to the many lessons learned in her past English classes. Maybe she could find one that would apply to this situation. "Southern, Valley Girl English teachers that also taught German were psycho, never leave your gate open, the proper pronunciation for dauphin was 'daw-fin,' and in a Shakespearean tragedy everyone died. Hmm...none of those were any good. What was that one phrase, Mr. Toy, her sophomore English teacher, was always saying? 'Does the end justify the means?' Ah Ha!" In this case, yes, the end would justify the means. Miss Lan was willing to go to any length to silence the girl and prove the girl didn't know the first thing about writing. For the first time ever, Miss Lan was going break her own policy.
Miss Lan opened her mouth intending to utter a thunderous and lengthy stream of insults, curses, and expletives. Instead, massive, bright flames shot out at the girl who still hadn't ceased her boasting and complaining. In less than five minutes, a charred and mute fangirl stood before the puzzled headmistress.
"Wow," said Miss Lan. Half-expecting the flames to continue pouring out, she covered her mouth with her left hand. "That," she said, removing her hand. She paused after the word to make certain she wasn't still breathing fire. "was very exciting," she finished. Everyone remained silent. The sight had yet to sink in as being real. The only sound was Emily's furious scribbling.
Tibbett was the first to utter a sentence. "I believe we've all learned a valuable lesson today."
"I agree," added Lady Bianca.
"To ingrain this lesson in your mind once again," said Miss Lan to the fangirl, who, now, actually resembled the bird she referred to herself as due to the present charred nature of her "porcelain skin." "I will say the first part of the moral and you will finish. Is that clear to you?"
The now subdued girl nodded in response.
"Aggravating Miss Lan will happen..."
Quoth The Raven, "Nevermore."
Can you guys tell what fic I've drawn from? If you have read the story and share my opinion on it, this chapter should be wildly funny. If not, well, don't go hunting for it. This was mucho fun and the longest chapter yet! If you don't like it tough! Flames will not be countered with flames nor will they succeed in injuring my persona. Much love to those who provide constructive criticism. Oh, and go read Makoto-47's (Emily) "LOTR:The Sequel—"that's where "OH, LOOK! IT'S JESUS!" comes from. It is also mucho funny.