Ah, my dear friend. Crack is the name of the game. Have fun guys, hope you get some chuckles.
Disclaimer: This poor pathetic loser owns nothing.
"Well, it says here that we're supposed to proclaim him a national hero."
"Since when did we follow the script?"
"Yeah!"
"Shutup! The lot of you! Tiki, get the lights and the tap dancing shoes out for everyone."
"Man, I suck at dancing."
"You lot! Go be timid! It sez we got to be timid!"
Allen blinked owlishly up at the now receding crowd of people around him. Still sitting squarely on the lean-to side, he had been cornered by the rag-tag group only moments before. The shortest of the group, a spiky-haired, slightly eccentric (okay, all of them could be described as "eccentric"), pushed herself to the front.
"I'm Road, but just pretend you haven't seen us yet. Your sparkly savior is running late. I heard she tried to kill herself by inhaling glitter.Inhaling glitter." She tittered and promptly disappeared. Allen didn't believe he had breathed in about five minutes. He clutched Timcampy to his chest again.
"I'm…I'm all alone again." A large poof of glitter, smelling of hairspray and abject misery, suddenly showered Allen.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Please don't cry!"
"What, no- I'm not cryin-!" Before him stood, complete in pink shimmery dress and with pointy magic wand, a thin and dark haired woman. Her curly hair was covered in glitter, the tiara that topped it slightly askew.
"I'm so sorry!"
"No! Please don't do that!" He leapt up to wrest the wand from her hands as she tried to puncture herself with the blunt end. After a small struggle, with Allen victoriously holding said wand, the woman had stopped hyperventilating enough to breathe.
"Um…Hi? Can you tell me where I am? And why I'm here? And please don't do that!" He snatched the tiara out of her hands as she made a move to choke herself with it.
"I-I-I'm Mirand-da. I'm the…Good Witch of the North. Although I'm not very good at being good." He patted her shoulder as she started to cry again.
"I'd say you're decently good. That's a very nice dress, in a sparkly pink way. This is my first time seeing in color, you know."
"Oh! Thank you! That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me! This is my 103rd job you know." She half-smiled up at Allen.
"That's great. I hope you keep it. But…uh. If you wanted to be a really good…witch? You could tell me where I am? Maybe?" Allen attempted to free himself from her hug, her tears soaking into his good shirt.
"I'm so sorry! I'm such a failure! You're in the Land of the Black Order! BOZ!" Miranda flipped her hand, sans wand.
"Is that B-O-Z or Boz? And what's the Z stand for?"
"Either, I guess. I don't know! Bu-but, they said I'm supposed to give you these." She pointed her finger at the now empty shoes.
"Who is they? Why do I need the shoes?"
"Well, that's Lulubell, the Wicked Witch of the East!" Miranda seemed to be gaining a little more confidence, now the choked sobs only punctuated every other word.
"Yeah! You squished her with your house!" The one called Road was back.
"Bam!"
"Splat!" Two heads poked out of the corn, beyond which Allen could see now was a brightly colored village of sorts.
"We're Jasdebi! And that's Lulubell you've smashed!"
"Oh no! I'm far to young and pliable to go to prison for life! First Tim being taken away, and now this…" Allen looked dejectedly at the ground. When he did, he jumped with a start.
"Dear God! Those are hideous!" The bright red bowling shoes now adorned his feet, and he had the sinking feeling that if he pulled up his pants leg, a fantastic pair of checkered knee high socks would be covering his calves. Miranda looked down at his feet as well now, tears again forming in her eyes.
"But you can't take them off! Or The Wicked Witch of the West will be able to get you! Don't take them off, please Allen!"
"Okay, okay. Just please don't start crying again." Allen wondered how many sizes too small the shoes were, they never had his size at the bowling alley.
"Anyways, I think its time for Miranda to shove off."
"Yeah! Shoo, sparkles."
"O-oh! I'm sorry Munchk-!"
"Noahkins. We renamed ourselves." Miranda looked apologetic as she started to fade into bubbles.
"Oh, well, bye now…I'm sorry I'm such a failure! But don't take those off! Please!" And with that, she promptly popped and disappeared. Allen vaguely wondered if this was heaven or hell. Then someone snapped in his face.
"Hey, kid! Pay attention!" A tall, darkly tan man stood inches from him. Then the one who had pronounced herself Road again pushed herself to the front.
"Okay, come on! We're going to pronounce you a national hero of Noahkinland. Grab him Tiki!"
"Ah! What? National whoizdunit?"
ooooo
Allen stood dazed in the middle of a brightly colored courtyard, as the Noah now stood around him, slightly menacingly.
"I'm Road, and I'm the leader of the Noahkins."
"I'm Tiki Mick, lights coordinator and head of the choir."
"Skin Boric." This one spoke only for taking the huge rainbow lollipop out of his mouth.
"We're Jasbedi!" The two twins shouted in unison.
"And this is where Lulubell would introduce herself. But she's not here." Glare. "Because she's squashed." Strong look. "Under your house." Piecing gaze.
"But now we sing!" Tiki clapped his hands together and took in a large breath.
"Which song?"
"Skip the Kansas one, because Miranda left."
"Ahhh, I don't like that one!" Allen stood, still in shock as the Noah began to squabble in front of him.
"Ding dong the Wicked-!"
"Bitch!"
"-is deeadddd!"
"That was rude, rero!"
Allen slowly began to recover from the strangeness of it all, when Road suddenly shouted about the squalor.
"Forget it! No singing! Just give him the medal and tell him to screw off!" A medal was shoved into Allen's hands, and a few of the Noah's gave him a slap on the back. They stood awkwardly for a few moments.
"Is everyone late today?" Road looked at the sky, glaring. Then, a cackle crashed through the sky, and everything went dark.
"AH. AHEM. IS THIS THING ON? HEL- OH. IT'S ON RIGHT NOW? OH SOR- RIGHT." An evil cackle rang through the sky, as something whooshed out of the darkening clouds.
"Oh no." Someone said, emphatically. Or not.
"I AM THE WICKED SUPERVISOR OF THE WEST, AND YOU HAVE KILLED MY FELLOW WITCH! FOR THIS YOU WILL PAY WALKER! AND YOUR LITTLE GOLEM TOO!"
"Not Tim! Why is everyone picking on Tim?!" Allen stamped his foot in anger.
"NO! THE SHOES! HE HAS THE SHOES! ("Reever, this wasn't how we planned it!" "Sorry Supervisor!" "MORE COFFEE.")" A dark haired, Chinese man landed a small, streamlined robot in the courtyard. "GIVE THEM TO ME!"
"Oi, you don't have to shout through that Megaphone, I can hear you. That Good Witch said not to, so I won't." Allen crossed his arms and turned his back.
"FOILED AGAIN." And with that, the man threw down what looked a smoke bomb and took off again. Allen coughed as tear gas filled his eyes, water streaming down his cheeks. He pondered why the man looked so familiar, then forgot about it as the Noahkins began to push him from behind.
"Okay, now that's over, its time to begin your journey!" Road announced.
"My journey? To where? Why?" Allen questioned again, tripping and scuffing the bowling shoes.
"To the Emerald Castle!"
"So you can go home! The Wizard will zap you there!"
"He can do a large variety of things!"
"But I don't want to go home!" Allen huffed and whined.
"Here's a 20 kid, now just follow that yellow road right there." Tiki shoved a bill into his hands.
"Now I have forty dollars!" Allen grabbed it and started at a brisk pace down the brick road. "And I know what yellow looks like now! Thank you Noahkins! For the medal and all."
"Yeah, just put that in the mail when you get home. We need it back." Road yelled after him. "We stole that from the Special Olympics."
ooooo
"Wow, how pretty! I love all the corn fields…it's like I've never seen them before." Allen chattered to Tim, who was perched on his head. "Oh cool!" Allen walked off the path for a moment over to a stand that hung off the ground.
"I've never seen one so realistic before, right Tim?" Allen looked at the scarecrow hanging from the poles. "If I were crow, I wouldn't come near. He's mean looking." Allen sidled around the base of the stand.
"Look at his hair! I wonder if it's real." He reached out to touch it, only to jump back in surprise when the sharp eyes of the scarecrow blinked and the scowl deepened.
"Don't you dare touch my hair beansprout!"
"I'm not that short!" Allen took too much offense to the comment to be shocked the scarecrow was yelling at him.
"Yes you are. Now get me down from here!"
"What? Why? You're mean! You could consider being nicer about it."
"Well, I don't have a brain. I don't consider anything. Especially about beansprouts like you."
"Yo-you don't have a brain?" Allen stammered.
"Who told you that?! Now get me down from here!"
"You just asked me that!"
"Do I have to repeat it a third time?" The Scarecrow glowered at Allen from his pole, he sure as hell wasn't going to tell the shorty that he had the memory of a rodent. Even though it technically wouldn't be memory. This was too confusing a thought process, so he instead chose to go back to being angry.
"Okay, I'll get you down for a trade." Allen was much too kind hearted for his own safety.
"What?" The Scarecrow snapped.
"You come with me to this castle. Supposedly there's a Wizard who can do a large variety of things. You could get a brain! And maybe some anger management classes!"
"You want to repeat that when I can move my arms, beansprout?!"
"You want down?"
"Che. Fine." Allen began to untie the knots that held the Scarecrow up. As he freed both hands, the stuffed man came crashing to the ground, scattering something that looked suspiciously like Soba Noodles.
"We never mention this again, or I'll cut you." The Scarecrow glared up at Allen as he stuffed noodles back into his black coat. The Scarecrow stood up, and picked up one of the sticks from his stand and inspected it. He swung it for a second, and seemingly satisfied, help it up proudly.
"This is Mugen." He then whacked Allen across the head with it.
"Err…hi Mugen." Allen said blearily from the ground. The Scarecrow stuffed the stick into his belt and began marching down the brick road.
"Er…Scarecrow, that's the wrong way."
ooooo
"Ah, I'm tired, Scarecrow. Let's rest here."
"Che. Stupid Beansprout weakling." But the Scarecrow sat down harshly as well.
"Maybe I should cut down on the skipping some." Allen collapsed, still breathing hard. The Scarecrow didn't reply.
The large apple trees in the clearing provided lovely shade. But Allen felt suddenly uneasy, he could almost hear something…rhythmical. Like…he didn't know. Couldn't quite place it.
Then it hit him.
Next Time?
Color Coordination is much more important in a Techicolor Movie, Mr. Tinman, and an argument over depth perception.