"Camera? What in the name of peanut butter are you doing here? I thought you were being recycled."

Camera suddenly spun around and faced Roger, who was looking at her questioningly (which I really can't see with that damn fabric over his face).

Camera shook her head. "Ohh, umm…uh….nothing, Roger. That was my half brother, Type Writer, who was being recycled. And why the hell are you wearing that damn lampshade over your head??" she asked, quickly trying to change the subject. She gulped guiltily.

Roger shrugged. "Because I got bored and so decided to dance on the coffee table with this lampshade over my head. Which was real fun, by the way." He suddenly narrowed his eyes and stared at her. "And did you just gulp guiltily?"

My secret is out, thought Camera helplessly. She quickly regained her composure and said, "Oh nooooooo, no no no of course I didn't!! Why on Oz would you even think that??"

"Because that's what you did when you admitted to spelling Indiana Jones' name as Indie-Anna Jones, and I saw you do it just now."

"That wasn't me, Roger," said Camera indignantly. "That was done by hippy.intellect. After all, the story was told from her POV," she said, crossing her rickety, camera-arms across her chest.

"No it wasn't!!" yelled Roger, stomping his foot on the ground. "It was from your POV!! I know it!!

"No it wasn't!!" yelled Camera.

"Yes it was!!" yelled Roger.

"NO!!" yelled Camera again.

"YES!!" yelled Roger again.

"NO!!"

"YES!!"

"NO!!"

"YES!!"

"NO!!"

"YES!!"

"PUMPKIN!!" yelled Jack Sparrow, who suddenly randomly appeared into the room for no reason at all.

"POTATO!!" yelled his bottle of fresh rum (even though bottles don't usually speak), and then the two of them suddenly disappeared into thin air.

"PUMPKIN!!" yelled Camera.

"POTATO!!" yelled Roger.

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

"PUMP- Whoa, hang on. Potato??" questioned Camera questioningly.

"Pumpkin?" questioned Roger, raising an eyebrow and looking confused.

The two appliances stared at each other (whoops sorry, Roger is not an appliance), their foreheads crinkling, not knowing where the hell those words came from.

"What were we just arguing about?" asked Camera questioningly.

"Ummmm," Roger scratched his head thinkingly (which is so a word –LOL-). "I think it was about……..what type of pie is tastier!!" he concluded, a neon pink light bulb suddenly appearing over his head and lighting up (because this is a magical fairy land, in case I didn't point that out earlier) . Obviously he wasn't lucky enough to be gifted with a very smart brain.

"Oh yeah, that's right," said Camera, as she reached out and switched off the light bulb. "PUMPKIN!!" she yelled, resuming their previous argument.

"POTATO!!" yelled Roger, still not remembering everything.

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

"PUMPKIN!!"

"POTATO!!"

And so, the two of them continued on and on and on with their nonsensical fight, which didn't make any sense because it was total nonsense.

Hey, isn't that interesting? Nonsense is sense that is not sense which it why it is called nonsense. I mean, if you break up the word, you've got non and sense. Put them together, and you've got: Nonsense. Therefore, sense that does not make sense because it is not sense, is therefore called nonsense!! Get it?? The opposite of sense is stuff that doesn't make sense so it becomes non-sense!! YIPPEEE!!! –gives herself a PhD for her unusually intelligent analysis of such a simple, unappreciated and unnoticed word-

Whoa, sorry, that was totally unexpected and random of me. I do apologize. Really, I do. –gulps guiltily- And now, on with the story….

Meanwhile, while all this was happening in the mean (another word which I might break down and analyse later), Glinda and Mark were lying in bed together, both completely naked and exhausted and spent but still exhilarated and high after their amazing sex. They lay in bed together, breathing heavily. They looked at each other, smiling widely.

"That…..was…..a….mayzing," Glinda managed to whisper.

"Yeah," whispered Mark. "Who knew I could fit myself into you so easily?"

"I know," whispered Glinda seductively. "I was kinda worried you'd be too big to fit into me. But I was wrong."

Mark smiled back seductively at her and pulled her close to him. "Yes you were. I just can't believe how good it felt….." he pulled Glinda closer and whispered into her ear "……to have my foot buried so deep inside you."

Glinda giggled. "I know!!! That was the best part!!" They two of them kissed long and hard, with a bit of tongue slipped in, when suddenly: there was a knock on the door. Even though a knock is the most common way for a visitor to alert the inhabitants of their presence, it still cause everyone in the loft to suddenly perk up.

"I wonder who it is," whispered Glinda.

"Me too," whispered Maureen, who heard Glinda, even though she was in the living room with Jeff. "Wonder if I should answer it……"

So...Who's at the door? Should Maureen answer it?