Well, well, well, so it's come to this, has it? The Kingdom of Ozbama, which at one point in history was highly celebrated as a most democratic kingdom, is quickly turning into a Socialist state, complete with its own version of the Politburo and KGB. The plethora of Czars and Czarinas is fast approaching the population of a small city.
It is morning in the Kingdom and the Wizard has just finished breakfast with his Wizardess, Dorothea.
"Ah, Dorothea, that was a most delicious breakfast." The Wizard wiped his mouth on his monogrammed napkin, stretched, and stood up.
" I didn't make it---we have chefs, you know!" Dorothea sounded quite indignant.
"I know that, dearest, but still . . . you are here with me, enjoying the full brightness of my countenance as I gaze at your lovely face." He kissed his wife on the cheek, swept up his robes and walked out of the Royal Kitchen, into the Throne Room to await the day's meetings.
"So, Beasley, what's on the agenda for today?" asked the Wizard as he practiced his golf swing.
"My name isn't Beasley, your Wizardry. It's Nottingham, sire." The Sheriff looked quite put out at the Wizard's lack of memory for names.
"Oh, sorry, Notts. Now, what dull personage do I have to meet with today?"
"The Wicked Witch of the Way-out West, your Wizardry. She would like to discuss the new Health Bill that has just been signed but not passed yet."
"Where is this Health Bill anyway, Notts? Can I see it before we discuss it?" the Wizard asked as he straightened his crown.
"Of course, your Wizardry. Page, bring in the Health Bill at once!" ordered the Sheriff. Suddenly the doors opened and a page brought in the Health Bill, which was brought in by four gold-clad wheelbarrows. It weighed no less than 465lbs and consisted of one million pages.
"You expect me to read all that?????" cried the Wizard.
"Well, yes, sire---you really should read the entire thing before meeting with the Witch and actually passing the Bill," offered the Sheriff.
"NONSENSE!! I refuse to read that whole thing! I'll just read the first couple pages--that should be enough." The Wizard grabbed the first page and skimmed over it, took up the second page, glanced at it, then put it back in the pile of papers.
"Ok, I read it. Where's the Royal Seal?"
"But, your Wizardry, you have hardly looked at the Bill--how can you pass this?" asked the Sheriff. "And you haven't discussed this with the Wicked Witch of the Way-out West."
"I can do anything I want because I am the Wizard of Ozbama and don't you forget it!" boomed the Wizard. "I run this Kingdom! I make the laws! No one dares to challenge me! Now give me that Royal Seal!" The Wizard grabbed the Royal Seal out of the Sheriff's hand and applied it to the Health Bill.
"There---it's done." The Wizard handed the Royal Seal back to the Sheriff and used some disinfecting hand cleaner. The Sheriff looked around the room at the others who were gathered there for this momentous occasion. Their faces spoke volumes, some with gaping mouths and others staring incredulously at the brazen attitude of the Wizard.
The Sheriff cleared his throat and asked, "Your Wizardry, what do we do with the subjects who refuse to buy health insurance?"
"Oh, that's an easy one---we'll round them up and throw them into the Royal Prison. Just imagine that there are people in my kingdom who refuse to buy health insurance, even if they can't afford it or aren't working. They are evil, crazy. Prison is where they belong."
"What about the people who buy Health Insurance, your Wizardry? Will they be rewarded?" asked the Sheriff.
"Rewarded??? Rewarded?? You have GOT to be joking, Notts. We're going to squeeze every last penny out of our subjects for this Health Bill and put it into the 'Save the Kingdom Fund.' That way I will ensure many, many more years of living comfortably off with a few of my cronies and Czars, while the masses will be frantically searching for loose change in their sofas. You know--keep 'em begging for the Wizard and Co. to come to their rescue. They will look up to us as their only salvation, and at long last, we will have them where we want them. Meeting's adjourned."
And with a flourish, the Wizard of Ozbama retired to his Royal Bedroom for a short nap before his next round of meetings and a quick trip to a tropical country to do some duty-free shopping . . .
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
The Wizard's Cop-out Speech
The scene opens up at the World Forum of Wizards in Vladivostock. The Wizard of Ozbama walks up to the podium, wearing his crown and gown, carrying his sceptre, with his pet mongoose Attila following close behind.
"My dear people of the world, it is my great pleasure to address you this evening about the role the Kingdom of Ozbama has had in shaping world history.
First of all, I would like to apologize for being such a strong kingdom, so willing to help all those minor kingdoms in distress. What were we thinking back in WWII? I mean, heck, sure we entered the war toward the end, but still, whoa! All that help we gave, I'm SO SORRY. We shouldn't have interfered, we just should have let you carry on to the best of your abilities, to fend for yourself and let those Bosch and Nips annihilate you. How could we have been so--so---altruistic? I mean, heck, you guys didn't need us, we butt in, uninvited. And now look. All that help we gave you---I'm so embarrassed. You are SO RIGHT to blame us for everything wrong in the world today. If we hadn't been so eager to promote democracy, to rid the world of Fascism, Communism, and all those isms, why, who knows what state you'd be in today! You might have much less freedom, no medical or scientific advances, no industries, no little truck-stop cafes on the sides of the roads in France . . . . in short, you'd all be under One Government, controlling everything without you having to lift your little fingers or to think for yourselves. Imagine---not having to think! What have we done??????
And my dear friends, the Saudis . . . . I bow to you a thousand times. You are Our Dear Friends for Life. It doesn't matter that most of the terrorists that piloted the planes that hit our World Trade Center in New York were Saudis . . .they were just misdirected youth. They had bad childhoods, that's all. Not their faults at all----we take the blame, it is our own fault that we were attacked. Thank you, thank you, thank you, your oil is our god, we worship you with all our hearts. Except for worshiping me, that is. After all, I am the Great Wizard Ozbama, the leader of the Most Powerful Kingdom in the Universe. I make and break laws, I spurn our enemies right, left and center, I do what I want, say what I want.
In conclusion, I want to apologize one more time, to let all the world know what idiots we have been and no longer will we do the right thing, but we shall always do the Politically Correct thing, which is usually the wrong thing but it's politically correct, and that's what really counts! Thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heavy heart. And now, the Wizardess would like to say a few words . . ." The Wizard walks off the stage, his loyal mongoose trotting close behind, and on walks Dorothea, the Wizardess, wearing a Moschino hot pink mini skirt with matching cropped jacket, lime green platform sandals and matching hat and handbag. The crowd cheers wildly for their fashion icon . . . she is much loved by all.
"Hello, all you happy people! Yes, I'm here. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This isn't going to be a long speech, I just wanted to thank you for being so loyal to us both, for your love and never-ending devotion. We love you, too! Yes! We do! We do! Our daughters love you! Our pets love you! Our servants love you! You will always be in our hearts as long as you do as we say! We will never again spoil the world with our goodwill, but will let everything fall apart naturally! We're sorry! We're sorry! Please forgive us and love us again! We need your love, your support! We'll do anything you want, as long as we thought of it first! Yes! Yes! We bow down to you but you have to bow down to us first! We will isolate ourselves and never again help anyone! We promise! Thank you, thank you, good people of the world! Thank you!" The Wizardess walks off the stage amidst a torrent of applause; she waves one more time, and disappears. The Forum comes to an end, and all the delegates go home.
Backstage, the Wizard and Wizardess congratulate themselves on a job well done, change into their travelling clothes, and board their private jet to Bora Bora, where they have an extended vacation. The world goes on . . . . .
"My dear people of the world, it is my great pleasure to address you this evening about the role the Kingdom of Ozbama has had in shaping world history.
First of all, I would like to apologize for being such a strong kingdom, so willing to help all those minor kingdoms in distress. What were we thinking back in WWII? I mean, heck, sure we entered the war toward the end, but still, whoa! All that help we gave, I'm SO SORRY. We shouldn't have interfered, we just should have let you carry on to the best of your abilities, to fend for yourself and let those Bosch and Nips annihilate you. How could we have been so--so---altruistic? I mean, heck, you guys didn't need us, we butt in, uninvited. And now look. All that help we gave you---I'm so embarrassed. You are SO RIGHT to blame us for everything wrong in the world today. If we hadn't been so eager to promote democracy, to rid the world of Fascism, Communism, and all those isms, why, who knows what state you'd be in today! You might have much less freedom, no medical or scientific advances, no industries, no little truck-stop cafes on the sides of the roads in France . . . . in short, you'd all be under One Government, controlling everything without you having to lift your little fingers or to think for yourselves. Imagine---not having to think! What have we done??????
And my dear friends, the Saudis . . . . I bow to you a thousand times. You are Our Dear Friends for Life. It doesn't matter that most of the terrorists that piloted the planes that hit our World Trade Center in New York were Saudis . . .they were just misdirected youth. They had bad childhoods, that's all. Not their faults at all----we take the blame, it is our own fault that we were attacked. Thank you, thank you, thank you, your oil is our god, we worship you with all our hearts. Except for worshiping me, that is. After all, I am the Great Wizard Ozbama, the leader of the Most Powerful Kingdom in the Universe. I make and break laws, I spurn our enemies right, left and center, I do what I want, say what I want.
In conclusion, I want to apologize one more time, to let all the world know what idiots we have been and no longer will we do the right thing, but we shall always do the Politically Correct thing, which is usually the wrong thing but it's politically correct, and that's what really counts! Thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heavy heart. And now, the Wizardess would like to say a few words . . ." The Wizard walks off the stage, his loyal mongoose trotting close behind, and on walks Dorothea, the Wizardess, wearing a Moschino hot pink mini skirt with matching cropped jacket, lime green platform sandals and matching hat and handbag. The crowd cheers wildly for their fashion icon . . . she is much loved by all.
"Hello, all you happy people! Yes, I'm here. Thank you, thank you, thank you. This isn't going to be a long speech, I just wanted to thank you for being so loyal to us both, for your love and never-ending devotion. We love you, too! Yes! We do! We do! Our daughters love you! Our pets love you! Our servants love you! You will always be in our hearts as long as you do as we say! We will never again spoil the world with our goodwill, but will let everything fall apart naturally! We're sorry! We're sorry! Please forgive us and love us again! We need your love, your support! We'll do anything you want, as long as we thought of it first! Yes! Yes! We bow down to you but you have to bow down to us first! We will isolate ourselves and never again help anyone! We promise! Thank you, thank you, good people of the world! Thank you!" The Wizardess walks off the stage amidst a torrent of applause; she waves one more time, and disappears. The Forum comes to an end, and all the delegates go home.
Backstage, the Wizard and Wizardess congratulate themselves on a job well done, change into their travelling clothes, and board their private jet to Bora Bora, where they have an extended vacation. The world goes on . . . . .
Monday, March 9, 2009
Novus Ordo Saeculorum
The Wizard was up one cloudy rainy morning, eating his Wheaties, when in marched the Sheriff of Nottingham.
"So sorry to bother Your Wizardry during his breakfast, but something has come up." Nottingham sat down before the Wizard allowed him.
"HEY! YOU can't sit down until I tell you that you can!" The Wizard was very angry.
"Oh, sorry, Your Highness, I forgot." Nottingham quickly stood up; the Wizard then told him that he could sit down.
"So, what is so important that you interrupt my breakfast, Notts?" asked the Wizard.
"Sire, the economy is in a bad state, and your wife, the Wizardess, is off shopping at Valentino in Beverly Hills" announced the Sheriff.
"So what? I told her she could have a little shopping expedition if she managed to save her allowance, and she obviously did. I'm proud of her---even though I know she had to break that piggy bank I got her for Christmas. Maybe she'll buy something that looks nice on her this time." The Wizard took a huge scoopful of cereal and munched away.
"No, Sire, you just don't understand. She has already spent over $1.2 million in one week. We can't afford this, especially with the recent fallout from that Vernie Makoff caper. And you've only been the Wizard for three months!" The Sheriff bit off another one of his nails.
"Vernie Makoff? That guy doesn't have anything to do with our economic situation! He was a private embezzler, nothing to do with the Kingdom's money. And besides---"
"Your Majesty just doesn't understand. Many of the people who's money he stole were supporting our economy. Now they have lost their entire life savings, can't go shopping anymore and keep our Kingdom out of the Great Recession! It's an unmitigated disaster, if you don't mind me saying so." Nottingham waited for a response from Ozbama. The Wizard slurped the last bit of milk from his cereal bowl, burped, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Listen, Nottingham, you get whoever is in charge of finances for the Kingdom and tell them to just crank out some more money. It's easy! Then one, two, three, we've got no recession. See? There's always a way out." Ozbama stood up, stretched, and then said:
"By the way, Nottingham, I'm going out tonight, so you're in charge of the Grey Palace until I get back, which should be around 4:00 a.m."
"May one ask where one is going, Your Highness?" asked the Sheriff.
"You may, but I'm not telling you! ha ha! Just a little jaunt in my new Maserroti. " The Wizard strode out of the Royal Kitchen, leaving the Sheriff shell-shocked. Didn't this leader understand that he couldn't buy such expensive play things while the rest of the country is lining up in soup kitchens? The Sheriff knew that he couldn't tell the Ministry of Finance to just "crank out" some more money---that wouldn't solve anything. The problem was with big investors, pocketing private citizens' hard-earned cash. A morality problem. The Sheriff was in a precarious position, not knowing which way to turn.
One thing was for certain: He had to contact the Wizardess in Beverly Hills, to order her to stop spending money immediately and return to the Grey Palace pronto. Of course she had to take their private jet, but no one expects the wife of the leader of the Kingdom to travel in a prop-plane. On the way out of the Royal Kitchen, the Sheriff noticed a piece of paper that had fallen out of the pocket of the Wizard's morning coat. On it was written: " Vernie Makoff-- midnight, The Rocket Cafe." Suddenly Notthingham felt sick. He folded the paper, stashed it in his pocket, and left the room in a hurry.
"So sorry to bother Your Wizardry during his breakfast, but something has come up." Nottingham sat down before the Wizard allowed him.
"HEY! YOU can't sit down until I tell you that you can!" The Wizard was very angry.
"Oh, sorry, Your Highness, I forgot." Nottingham quickly stood up; the Wizard then told him that he could sit down.
"So, what is so important that you interrupt my breakfast, Notts?" asked the Wizard.
"Sire, the economy is in a bad state, and your wife, the Wizardess, is off shopping at Valentino in Beverly Hills" announced the Sheriff.
"So what? I told her she could have a little shopping expedition if she managed to save her allowance, and she obviously did. I'm proud of her---even though I know she had to break that piggy bank I got her for Christmas. Maybe she'll buy something that looks nice on her this time." The Wizard took a huge scoopful of cereal and munched away.
"No, Sire, you just don't understand. She has already spent over $1.2 million in one week. We can't afford this, especially with the recent fallout from that Vernie Makoff caper. And you've only been the Wizard for three months!" The Sheriff bit off another one of his nails.
"Vernie Makoff? That guy doesn't have anything to do with our economic situation! He was a private embezzler, nothing to do with the Kingdom's money. And besides---"
"Your Majesty just doesn't understand. Many of the people who's money he stole were supporting our economy. Now they have lost their entire life savings, can't go shopping anymore and keep our Kingdom out of the Great Recession! It's an unmitigated disaster, if you don't mind me saying so." Nottingham waited for a response from Ozbama. The Wizard slurped the last bit of milk from his cereal bowl, burped, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Listen, Nottingham, you get whoever is in charge of finances for the Kingdom and tell them to just crank out some more money. It's easy! Then one, two, three, we've got no recession. See? There's always a way out." Ozbama stood up, stretched, and then said:
"By the way, Nottingham, I'm going out tonight, so you're in charge of the Grey Palace until I get back, which should be around 4:00 a.m."
"May one ask where one is going, Your Highness?" asked the Sheriff.
"You may, but I'm not telling you! ha ha! Just a little jaunt in my new Maserroti. " The Wizard strode out of the Royal Kitchen, leaving the Sheriff shell-shocked. Didn't this leader understand that he couldn't buy such expensive play things while the rest of the country is lining up in soup kitchens? The Sheriff knew that he couldn't tell the Ministry of Finance to just "crank out" some more money---that wouldn't solve anything. The problem was with big investors, pocketing private citizens' hard-earned cash. A morality problem. The Sheriff was in a precarious position, not knowing which way to turn.
One thing was for certain: He had to contact the Wizardess in Beverly Hills, to order her to stop spending money immediately and return to the Grey Palace pronto. Of course she had to take their private jet, but no one expects the wife of the leader of the Kingdom to travel in a prop-plane. On the way out of the Royal Kitchen, the Sheriff noticed a piece of paper that had fallen out of the pocket of the Wizard's morning coat. On it was written: " Vernie Makoff-- midnight, The Rocket Cafe." Suddenly Notthingham felt sick. He folded the paper, stashed it in his pocket, and left the room in a hurry.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Part 4 Life Goes On
The wedding was the social event of the year. The bride wore a Jean Paul Gautier yellow silk shantung long sleeved dress with pink pigskin ankle boots and matching handbag. The groom wore an Armani tuxedo, in sky blue, with matching top hat. As they made their way out of the church, the comments were flying swift and sure: "My, don't they look STUNNING!" "What a BEAUTIFUL couple!" "OUR KINGDOM IS SAVED!"
SOON the children were born, two lovely girls. They were growing up into nice, young ladies.
But this story isn't really about THEM.
Things were changing in the kingdom; 50 Cent got bumped out by Tim Geithner as the new Secretary of the Treasury; there were other appointees who seemed not to fit their roles, but the people of Ozbama accepted these appointments with the kind of resignation that only comes from years of frustration trying to buck the system. Once upon a time they would have been accused of dumb insolence, but no longer----their king/wizard/president was proving himself to be a Great Leader, even though most of the time he hid behind a curtain and projected his image onto a screen, in order to frighten his subjects into submission. He was spending less time on the balcony and more time in his chambers, making new proclamations that didn't mean anything, and enjoying more and more sweet potato pie. His increasing girth was the cause of much concern with his cabinet.
Therefore, a new member of the team was recruited: The Royal Waist-Watcher, in the form of Jack la Lanne.
"C'mon, Your Majesty! Just look at me. I'm 140 years old and look at me! Slim and trim like I was in my 20's. You CAN DO IT! Remember your battle cry when you wanted to be elected Wizard for Life? Then use it to lose it, baby! YOU CAN DO IT!! We've got to cut out all those sweet potato pies you've been devouring in your private chambers, and replace them with salads."
"You've GOT to be joking, la Lanne! I LOVE sweet potato pie, can't live without it!" cried the Wizard.
"Sorry, Oz, but the way back to a slim, trim body is NO sweets, LOTS of exercise every day. We'll start our regime tomorrow, so be ready at 8:00 in the morning for an hour of rigorous exercise. First we'll do one hundred push-ups followed by two hundred jumping jacks; then three hundred sit-ups. You'll be in shape in no time. Bye!!" And with a wave of his hand, The Waist-Watcher left, backing out of the door. The Wizard just stood there, staring at the door. He was so deflated at this news. Looking at himself in a full-length mirror, he agreed that he had put on quite a bit of weight and knew that Theadora was not happy with this extra-added fat. So in order to please her, he decided then and there to make another royal decree: No sweet potato pies would be allowed in the kingdom as long as he was the Wizard.
The next day the Waist-Watcher showed up as scheduled; the Wizard when through the motions of each exercise but nearly collapsed with exhaustion. Afterward he had a shower, sauna and massage, then wrote out his decree against sweet potato pies. He then informed his cabinet that he would make this announcement at 12:00 on the balcony, and they in turn informed the kingdom that they were to be outside the Palace at noon. He donned his royal robes and proceeded to the appointed place.
"Good people of the Kingdom of Ozbama, I hereby give you Royal Decree No. 19, 760. From now on, there shall be no more sweet potato pies allowed in the kingdom. That means the growing of sweet potatoes shall be forbidden, any by-products of this shall not be made, no bakeries shall produce pies or other sweets from sweet potatoes. All sweet potatoes that are now in the ground shall be pulled up and tossed into the Royal Dumping Grounds and burned immediately. Anyone caught with a sweet pototo in his or her possession, shall be incarcerated by the fullest extent of the law of Ozbama. And that means thrown into the Royal Prison. I hope I have made myself clear. Thank you, good people, thank you." And with that, the Wizard swept back into his room off the balcony and closed the French doors.
The crowds dispersed, mumbling to themselves and each other. This was not the type of royal decree that they wished to hear. Many people made their living by growing sweet potatoes and were thrown into a panic. What were they to do? It was their livlihood being stripped away from them, their very reason for existence. The alternatives were depressing: either grow another crop or die from hunger. The former was anethema, the latter unthinkable. So . . . it was then that a mutinous gathering of once-loyal subjects began their plot to overthrow the Wizard and his government.
In that crowd of onlookers, the Sheriff of Nottingham stood, disguised as a Benedictine Monk. Knowing which side of his bread was buttered, but also eager to be a hero to the people, he walked away to contemplate his next move . . . .
SOON the children were born, two lovely girls. They were growing up into nice, young ladies.
But this story isn't really about THEM.
Things were changing in the kingdom; 50 Cent got bumped out by Tim Geithner as the new Secretary of the Treasury; there were other appointees who seemed not to fit their roles, but the people of Ozbama accepted these appointments with the kind of resignation that only comes from years of frustration trying to buck the system. Once upon a time they would have been accused of dumb insolence, but no longer----their king/wizard/president was proving himself to be a Great Leader, even though most of the time he hid behind a curtain and projected his image onto a screen, in order to frighten his subjects into submission. He was spending less time on the balcony and more time in his chambers, making new proclamations that didn't mean anything, and enjoying more and more sweet potato pie. His increasing girth was the cause of much concern with his cabinet.
Therefore, a new member of the team was recruited: The Royal Waist-Watcher, in the form of Jack la Lanne.
"C'mon, Your Majesty! Just look at me. I'm 140 years old and look at me! Slim and trim like I was in my 20's. You CAN DO IT! Remember your battle cry when you wanted to be elected Wizard for Life? Then use it to lose it, baby! YOU CAN DO IT!! We've got to cut out all those sweet potato pies you've been devouring in your private chambers, and replace them with salads."
"You've GOT to be joking, la Lanne! I LOVE sweet potato pie, can't live without it!" cried the Wizard.
"Sorry, Oz, but the way back to a slim, trim body is NO sweets, LOTS of exercise every day. We'll start our regime tomorrow, so be ready at 8:00 in the morning for an hour of rigorous exercise. First we'll do one hundred push-ups followed by two hundred jumping jacks; then three hundred sit-ups. You'll be in shape in no time. Bye!!" And with a wave of his hand, The Waist-Watcher left, backing out of the door. The Wizard just stood there, staring at the door. He was so deflated at this news. Looking at himself in a full-length mirror, he agreed that he had put on quite a bit of weight and knew that Theadora was not happy with this extra-added fat. So in order to please her, he decided then and there to make another royal decree: No sweet potato pies would be allowed in the kingdom as long as he was the Wizard.
The next day the Waist-Watcher showed up as scheduled; the Wizard when through the motions of each exercise but nearly collapsed with exhaustion. Afterward he had a shower, sauna and massage, then wrote out his decree against sweet potato pies. He then informed his cabinet that he would make this announcement at 12:00 on the balcony, and they in turn informed the kingdom that they were to be outside the Palace at noon. He donned his royal robes and proceeded to the appointed place.
"Good people of the Kingdom of Ozbama, I hereby give you Royal Decree No. 19, 760. From now on, there shall be no more sweet potato pies allowed in the kingdom. That means the growing of sweet potatoes shall be forbidden, any by-products of this shall not be made, no bakeries shall produce pies or other sweets from sweet potatoes. All sweet potatoes that are now in the ground shall be pulled up and tossed into the Royal Dumping Grounds and burned immediately. Anyone caught with a sweet pototo in his or her possession, shall be incarcerated by the fullest extent of the law of Ozbama. And that means thrown into the Royal Prison. I hope I have made myself clear. Thank you, good people, thank you." And with that, the Wizard swept back into his room off the balcony and closed the French doors.
The crowds dispersed, mumbling to themselves and each other. This was not the type of royal decree that they wished to hear. Many people made their living by growing sweet potatoes and were thrown into a panic. What were they to do? It was their livlihood being stripped away from them, their very reason for existence. The alternatives were depressing: either grow another crop or die from hunger. The former was anethema, the latter unthinkable. So . . . it was then that a mutinous gathering of once-loyal subjects began their plot to overthrow the Wizard and his government.
In that crowd of onlookers, the Sheriff of Nottingham stood, disguised as a Benedictine Monk. Knowing which side of his bread was buttered, but also eager to be a hero to the people, he walked away to contemplate his next move . . . .
Monday, December 15, 2008
Theadora Sue Gets Married
IT was a dark and stormy night. The prisoners were fast asleep in their little stalls, moved there from their previous positions of being chained to the walls in one large group. Some were snoring, others silent. A small coal fire was smouldering in the corners of each prison cell; at least the Wizard had enough of a conscience to keep them warm. After all, what good were dead prisoners?
The Wizard made his way, with his Secretary of Defense guiding the path with a halogen light. The great leader was determined to make Theadora Typhoon his wife, and had the proposal memorized. Who would be stupid enough to turn him down?
As the fearless duo approached the prison, some of the inmates stirred in their sleep. The Wizard walked behind, while the Secretary held the light toward each cell, looking for Theadora. Then they found her, curled up in a corner of her little cell, hugging her pink fleece blanket close to her.
"AHEM!" The Wizard cleared his throat, tying to awaken Theadora.
"I said, AHEM!" This didn't seem to be working, so the Wizard said her name: "Theadora! Theadora! Time to wake up and get your wedding dress on!" Such panache.
Theadora moved slightly, mumbled something in her sleep, and rolled over, closer to the wall. Each prisoner had a small bed to sleep upon, but it was very uncomfortable. The Wizard tried once more to awaken his princess.
"OK, THEADORA! THIS IS YOUR WIZARD SPEAKING! I ORDER YOU TO WAKE UP!!" That worked. Theadora jumped up so quickly she bumped her head on the stone wall.
"OUCH! Why did you do that? I was having a beautiful dream and you ruined it!" Theadora rubbed her sore head, scowling at the Wizard.
"I am here to rescue you, fair maiden. You are to be my Wizardess at exactly 11:00 tomorrow morning. You have to be ready by 10:30. Your Maids in Waiting and Waiting will prepare you, you know, the usual bathing in three thousand flowers and a massage with ten thousand oils. Your wedding gown is ready for you, so you better be ready!" The Wizard swept his robes up and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute, Your Highness! I didn't say I'd marry you! Just who do you think you are?" Theadora was furious.
"Why, I am the Wizard of Ozbama, and all my subjects obey me without question. Including my soon-to-be wife and Wizardess. You have no choice, Theadora, so get some beauty sleep and see you in the morning!" The Wizard the Secretary of Defense left without another word, while Theadora stared at the departing couple with a mixture of awe, fear and anger.
"That no-good Wizard! I'll show him. I won't show up." Theadora said this out loud, but a prison guard heard her.
"I wouldn't do that, Miss. You'll be sorry . . . . better to marry him and gain your freedom. You don't really want to be in here the rest of your life, do you?
"Well, no, I suppose I don't, but marrying the Wizard isn't exactly my cup of tea either!" Theadora sat on her bed and contemplated her next move.
"I would advise you to marry him, don't get any ideas about escape or trying to stay in your cell. Just marry the guy, what have you got to lose?" The prison guard looked enquiringly at Theadora.
"Well, I suppose I could marry him. At least I will be out of here and in the Palace that should have gone to my Uncle Harry."
"That's the right attitude, Miss. You won't be sorry. You'll make a great Wizardess, too. Just imagine yourself, side by side with the Wizard, doling out justice to your subjects, enjoying the best food, clothes, shopping sprees to Neiman Marcus. Now, go back to sleep, and dream of your dream-Wizard." The prison guard spit onto the floor, straightened his armor and returned to his post. Theadora was wondering what she would wear to the party after the wedding ceremony, when one of the prisoners whispered her name.
"Miss Typhoon? May I ask you a great favor?" It was a smallish man with loads of dark hair flopping over his brow who was imprisoned for trying to sell a Ministry seat.
"Why, of course. What is it?" asked Theadora.
"When you are made the Wizardess, please try to get us all out of here! We aren't criminals, we just disagreed with the Wizard. We don't belong in prison!" The prisoner looked around to see if any fellow prisoners were awake, but all were sleeping soundly.
"I'll do the best I can, er . .-"
"Ron, just call me Ron. No one can pronounce my last name."
"O k, Ron. Uh, I'll try, truly I will. But no promises!" offered Theadora, the soon-to-be Wizardess.
Theadora tried to go back to sleep but was too excited. The prospect of marrying the most powerful man in the universe was too much for her, and she remained awake all night, scheming her schemes. Yes, this would be a rather enterprising union, with her brains and his power, they could go a long way.
The Wizard made his way, with his Secretary of Defense guiding the path with a halogen light. The great leader was determined to make Theadora Typhoon his wife, and had the proposal memorized. Who would be stupid enough to turn him down?
As the fearless duo approached the prison, some of the inmates stirred in their sleep. The Wizard walked behind, while the Secretary held the light toward each cell, looking for Theadora. Then they found her, curled up in a corner of her little cell, hugging her pink fleece blanket close to her.
"AHEM!" The Wizard cleared his throat, tying to awaken Theadora.
"I said, AHEM!" This didn't seem to be working, so the Wizard said her name: "Theadora! Theadora! Time to wake up and get your wedding dress on!" Such panache.
Theadora moved slightly, mumbled something in her sleep, and rolled over, closer to the wall. Each prisoner had a small bed to sleep upon, but it was very uncomfortable. The Wizard tried once more to awaken his princess.
"OK, THEADORA! THIS IS YOUR WIZARD SPEAKING! I ORDER YOU TO WAKE UP!!" That worked. Theadora jumped up so quickly she bumped her head on the stone wall.
"OUCH! Why did you do that? I was having a beautiful dream and you ruined it!" Theadora rubbed her sore head, scowling at the Wizard.
"I am here to rescue you, fair maiden. You are to be my Wizardess at exactly 11:00 tomorrow morning. You have to be ready by 10:30. Your Maids in Waiting and Waiting will prepare you, you know, the usual bathing in three thousand flowers and a massage with ten thousand oils. Your wedding gown is ready for you, so you better be ready!" The Wizard swept his robes up and turned to leave.
"Wait a minute, Your Highness! I didn't say I'd marry you! Just who do you think you are?" Theadora was furious.
"Why, I am the Wizard of Ozbama, and all my subjects obey me without question. Including my soon-to-be wife and Wizardess. You have no choice, Theadora, so get some beauty sleep and see you in the morning!" The Wizard the Secretary of Defense left without another word, while Theadora stared at the departing couple with a mixture of awe, fear and anger.
"That no-good Wizard! I'll show him. I won't show up." Theadora said this out loud, but a prison guard heard her.
"I wouldn't do that, Miss. You'll be sorry . . . . better to marry him and gain your freedom. You don't really want to be in here the rest of your life, do you?
"Well, no, I suppose I don't, but marrying the Wizard isn't exactly my cup of tea either!" Theadora sat on her bed and contemplated her next move.
"I would advise you to marry him, don't get any ideas about escape or trying to stay in your cell. Just marry the guy, what have you got to lose?" The prison guard looked enquiringly at Theadora.
"Well, I suppose I could marry him. At least I will be out of here and in the Palace that should have gone to my Uncle Harry."
"That's the right attitude, Miss. You won't be sorry. You'll make a great Wizardess, too. Just imagine yourself, side by side with the Wizard, doling out justice to your subjects, enjoying the best food, clothes, shopping sprees to Neiman Marcus. Now, go back to sleep, and dream of your dream-Wizard." The prison guard spit onto the floor, straightened his armor and returned to his post. Theadora was wondering what she would wear to the party after the wedding ceremony, when one of the prisoners whispered her name.
"Miss Typhoon? May I ask you a great favor?" It was a smallish man with loads of dark hair flopping over his brow who was imprisoned for trying to sell a Ministry seat.
"Why, of course. What is it?" asked Theadora.
"When you are made the Wizardess, please try to get us all out of here! We aren't criminals, we just disagreed with the Wizard. We don't belong in prison!" The prisoner looked around to see if any fellow prisoners were awake, but all were sleeping soundly.
"I'll do the best I can, er . .-"
"Ron, just call me Ron. No one can pronounce my last name."
"O k, Ron. Uh, I'll try, truly I will. But no promises!" offered Theadora, the soon-to-be Wizardess.
Theadora tried to go back to sleep but was too excited. The prospect of marrying the most powerful man in the universe was too much for her, and she remained awake all night, scheming her schemes. Yes, this would be a rather enterprising union, with her brains and his power, they could go a long way.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Part Two of The Wizard of Ozbama
Part Two
New Character: The Sheriff of Nottingham : Rahm Emanuel
Chancellor of the Exchequer: Uncle Harry
ONE MORNING the Great Wizard sat down for breakfast. There was something strange in his cereal bowl.
"What is this?" he asked indignantly.
"Nuts and Acorns, your Majesty. It's what you asked for," replied his Royal Tasters, the Two Guards.
"Hm," grunted The Wizard. "Looks like I'm going to have to chew this very carefully."
. . . . . . . . . .
LATER THAT AFTERNOON after his customary siesta, The Wizard asked for his new appointee to present himself to court. He waited majestically on his Throne in the Throne Room.
"Where is that dude anyway?" asked the Great Ozbama.
"If you mean the Sheriff of Nottingham, your Majesty, he is on his way. He telephoned earlier to ask for your forgiveness for being a little late for your meeting," replied the Two Guards.
"He has a lot of nerve. Who does he think he is anyway? Making the leader of the Kingdom wait for him! He'll hear from me. This tea is getting cold. Oh, by the way, did you get rid of that dead fish on the Royal Steps? I wonder who did that. Sure stinks to high heaven." With that, the Great Wizard arose and all around him arose as well, and as he left the Throne Room the Two Guards looked at each other conspiratorially and winked.
"Your Majesty, since the Sheriff of Nottingham is staying for dinner, perhaps it would be most diplomatic of you to have the Royal Chefs prepare his favorite dish, baked barracuda."
"All right, all right, whatever he wants. I'm going to jog around the moat. Make sure my hot bath is waiting for me in exactly one hour." With that last parting shot, the Great Wizard took leave of his Two Guards and entered his Royal Chamber to change into his sports clothes.
DINNER THAT EVENING was a royal success. The barracuda was baked to perfection, a lovely Pinot Grigio to accompany it. The Great Wizard was feeling very good, very satisfied with himself for inviting the Sheriff for this very special meal.
"Now, pray tell me, Nottingham, why exactly did you want to see me? Raising taxes, charging higher interest rates, another bail-out-------------"
"No, no, no, your Majesty, nothing quite so extreme as those measures. But I do have an idea that would curry favor with your subjects: In order to placate the people, you must appoint Uncle Harry as Chancellor of the Exchequer to your Royal Cabinet." The Sheriff looked down at his immaculately manicured fingers, not daring to look the Wizard in the eyes.
"WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!? WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!? MY ARCH ENEMY? THE MAN WHO THESE STUPID SUBJECTS OF MINE WORSHIP BEHIND MY BACK? Ok, I can do that," the Wizard replied. "On one condition, though: He can't live at the Grey Palace. He has to live in that little bitty dinky hut at the end of the drive, you know, the one that the Royal Caretaker lives in now. You can move that guy into a smaller hut, he only mows the three thousand acres of Royal Lawns anyway."
"Your Majesty has certainly made my day. Thank you, from the bottom of my bag----I mean heart," said the Sheriff emotionally. "I shall move the caretaker at once and install Uncle Harry in his new home."
"You may stand," ordered the Wizard. "Now we're going to have a game of Croquet. Ever play, Nottingham?" asked the Wizard.
"No, Your Majesty, but I hear it's a rather cut-throat game," replied the Sheriff.
"You're thinking of fencing, now that's a real cut-throat game. This is kindergarten stuff. You'll see, I'll beat you, because I have to win every time." The two men took leave of the Royal Dining Room, and went outside to play their non-cut-throat game, which the Sheriff dutifully lost because if he had won, it would have meant his head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
THE NEXT MORNING, the Royal Doorbell rang. It was a courier with a message for the Wizard. The message read: "If would please Your Majesty, the Chancellor of the Exchequer would prefer to meet His Majesty the Wizard of Ozbama at a more neutral location, perhaps the pub on the outskirts of the Kingdom. In that way, both sides would be represented fairly and equally. Please reply at your convenience." It was signed "Uncle Harry".
The Two Guards, who had been reading the message, became frightened at once.
"This isn't good, not good at all. Ozbama just isn't going to like this. I smell a rat," replied one of The Guards.
"So do I" replied the other Guard. "But we have to give him the message." So off they went to find the Great Ozbama and deliver the message. After he had finished reading it, he slowly put it down on a table, and sat down. The fury on his face was evident but he didn't say a word. Then his face brightened up and he stated:
"All right. So old Uncle Harry doesn't want to take advantage of having a meeting at the most beautiful palace in the whole universe. Fine. We'll meet at that pub he mentioned, but then afterward we are having a duel." As he said this, a gasp escaped the Two Guards.
"A DUEL? Your Majesty, you don't know how to fence. You'll get killed!!" They begged him to reconsider his foolish decision.
"Yes, that's what I said: a duel. Find me someone to teach me fencing, and make that snappy." The Two Guards just stared at him. "I SAID, MAKE THAT SNAPPY!!!!!" yelled the Wizard. "TODAY in fact. NOW!! He isn't going to kill me, and I'm not going to kill him. Just sort of scare him a little. Now GO!!!!!" The Two Guards bowed to the Wizard, backed out of the room. "
The Wizard opened his wardrobe and chose a fencing outfit that Errol Flynn could have worn in Robin Hood. "Uncle Harry, you have met your match." He grabbed a cape at the last minute and swept out of the room, down the stairs to go impress Theadora Typhoon, who was still in prison. With Uncle Harry as Chancellor of the Exchequer, he could quickly make Theadora his Princess First Wizardress, therefore reassuring his people that he was truly bipartisan.
. . . . . . .to be continued. . . . . . . .
New Character: The Sheriff of Nottingham : Rahm Emanuel
Chancellor of the Exchequer: Uncle Harry
ONE MORNING the Great Wizard sat down for breakfast. There was something strange in his cereal bowl.
"What is this?" he asked indignantly.
"Nuts and Acorns, your Majesty. It's what you asked for," replied his Royal Tasters, the Two Guards.
"Hm," grunted The Wizard. "Looks like I'm going to have to chew this very carefully."
. . . . . . . . . .
LATER THAT AFTERNOON after his customary siesta, The Wizard asked for his new appointee to present himself to court. He waited majestically on his Throne in the Throne Room.
"Where is that dude anyway?" asked the Great Ozbama.
"If you mean the Sheriff of Nottingham, your Majesty, he is on his way. He telephoned earlier to ask for your forgiveness for being a little late for your meeting," replied the Two Guards.
"He has a lot of nerve. Who does he think he is anyway? Making the leader of the Kingdom wait for him! He'll hear from me. This tea is getting cold. Oh, by the way, did you get rid of that dead fish on the Royal Steps? I wonder who did that. Sure stinks to high heaven." With that, the Great Wizard arose and all around him arose as well, and as he left the Throne Room the Two Guards looked at each other conspiratorially and winked.
"Your Majesty, since the Sheriff of Nottingham is staying for dinner, perhaps it would be most diplomatic of you to have the Royal Chefs prepare his favorite dish, baked barracuda."
"All right, all right, whatever he wants. I'm going to jog around the moat. Make sure my hot bath is waiting for me in exactly one hour." With that last parting shot, the Great Wizard took leave of his Two Guards and entered his Royal Chamber to change into his sports clothes.
DINNER THAT EVENING was a royal success. The barracuda was baked to perfection, a lovely Pinot Grigio to accompany it. The Great Wizard was feeling very good, very satisfied with himself for inviting the Sheriff for this very special meal.
"Now, pray tell me, Nottingham, why exactly did you want to see me? Raising taxes, charging higher interest rates, another bail-out-------------"
"No, no, no, your Majesty, nothing quite so extreme as those measures. But I do have an idea that would curry favor with your subjects: In order to placate the people, you must appoint Uncle Harry as Chancellor of the Exchequer to your Royal Cabinet." The Sheriff looked down at his immaculately manicured fingers, not daring to look the Wizard in the eyes.
"WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!? WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!? MY ARCH ENEMY? THE MAN WHO THESE STUPID SUBJECTS OF MINE WORSHIP BEHIND MY BACK? Ok, I can do that," the Wizard replied. "On one condition, though: He can't live at the Grey Palace. He has to live in that little bitty dinky hut at the end of the drive, you know, the one that the Royal Caretaker lives in now. You can move that guy into a smaller hut, he only mows the three thousand acres of Royal Lawns anyway."
"Your Majesty has certainly made my day. Thank you, from the bottom of my bag----I mean heart," said the Sheriff emotionally. "I shall move the caretaker at once and install Uncle Harry in his new home."
"You may stand," ordered the Wizard. "Now we're going to have a game of Croquet. Ever play, Nottingham?" asked the Wizard.
"No, Your Majesty, but I hear it's a rather cut-throat game," replied the Sheriff.
"You're thinking of fencing, now that's a real cut-throat game. This is kindergarten stuff. You'll see, I'll beat you, because I have to win every time." The two men took leave of the Royal Dining Room, and went outside to play their non-cut-throat game, which the Sheriff dutifully lost because if he had won, it would have meant his head.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
THE NEXT MORNING, the Royal Doorbell rang. It was a courier with a message for the Wizard. The message read: "If would please Your Majesty, the Chancellor of the Exchequer would prefer to meet His Majesty the Wizard of Ozbama at a more neutral location, perhaps the pub on the outskirts of the Kingdom. In that way, both sides would be represented fairly and equally. Please reply at your convenience." It was signed "Uncle Harry".
The Two Guards, who had been reading the message, became frightened at once.
"This isn't good, not good at all. Ozbama just isn't going to like this. I smell a rat," replied one of The Guards.
"So do I" replied the other Guard. "But we have to give him the message." So off they went to find the Great Ozbama and deliver the message. After he had finished reading it, he slowly put it down on a table, and sat down. The fury on his face was evident but he didn't say a word. Then his face brightened up and he stated:
"All right. So old Uncle Harry doesn't want to take advantage of having a meeting at the most beautiful palace in the whole universe. Fine. We'll meet at that pub he mentioned, but then afterward we are having a duel." As he said this, a gasp escaped the Two Guards.
"A DUEL? Your Majesty, you don't know how to fence. You'll get killed!!" They begged him to reconsider his foolish decision.
"Yes, that's what I said: a duel. Find me someone to teach me fencing, and make that snappy." The Two Guards just stared at him. "I SAID, MAKE THAT SNAPPY!!!!!" yelled the Wizard. "TODAY in fact. NOW!! He isn't going to kill me, and I'm not going to kill him. Just sort of scare him a little. Now GO!!!!!" The Two Guards bowed to the Wizard, backed out of the room. "
The Wizard opened his wardrobe and chose a fencing outfit that Errol Flynn could have worn in Robin Hood. "Uncle Harry, you have met your match." He grabbed a cape at the last minute and swept out of the room, down the stairs to go impress Theadora Typhoon, who was still in prison. With Uncle Harry as Chancellor of the Exchequer, he could quickly make Theadora his Princess First Wizardress, therefore reassuring his people that he was truly bipartisan.
. . . . . . .to be continued. . . . . . . .
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Wizard of Ozbama
The following is the first chapter of a parody very loosely based on the "Wizard of Oz" stories by Frank Baum; any similarity to persons real or imagined is only coincidental.
The Wizard of Ozbama: Barak Obama
Theadora Typhoon: Michelle Obama
The Cowardly Coyote: Colin Powell
The Scaremonger: Joe Biden
The Tan Man: Bill Clinton
Auntie En: Cindy McCain
Uncle Harry: John McCain
Wicked Witch of the Way-out West: Nancy Pelosi
Good Witch of the Further West: Sarah Palin
Secretary of State: Spike Lee
Secretary of Defense: Puff Daddy
Secretary of the Treasury: 50 Cent
M'Lady of the Privy Chamber: Hillary Clinton
The Two Guards: Al Sharpton and Charles Rangel
Lord High Executioner: William Ayers
Enemies of the Realm: Anyone who voted for Uncle Harry
ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a new king named the Wizard of Ozbama. He wanted everyone in his kingdom to share the wealth, except his wealth. About a year after his ascension to the throne, things were not going very well. Standing on a balcony in his palace in the Wizarddom of the United States of Ozbama, with his two armed guards holding AK-47's and fanning him lovingly with banana leaves, he addressed his subjects:
"My good people," he began, "You know that the economic crisis in the first year of my reign has resulted in tightening our belts. Even here in the Grey Palace, we learned to live a little leaner; my staff of servants did without breakfast and lunch". At this remark there was great snickering from the crowd. "I now proclaim by this decree, that we are begining to share the wealth in earnest. On October 1st, all homes with central heat will share their wealth with those neighbors who haven't paid their heating bills for the last fifty years. On that day, all customers with central heat who pay their bills, will have to pay for twenty-five customers who don't." There was much applause and cheers from the crowd.
Then the Wizard continued: " You know that I love you all, you are my subjects and I am your Wizard, but some of you have shown a lack of respect for me. And because of this, those who have done this misdeed shall be punished, according to the New Constitution of the Wizarddom of the United States of Ozbama." There was an audible gasp from the crowd. "A representative from the office of the Secretary of Defense will inspect every home in the Wizarddom to search for anti-Ozbama material. Anything against me that is found will be confiscated and the people living in that home will be arrested and taken to prison. Well, that's all folks, have a nice day." And with that parting shot, the Wizard turned to go back into his air conditioned palace. But suddenly a pleading voice called up to him.
"Oh great Wizard! Please listen to me! I need to ask you a question!"
"And to whom am I to address my answer to, young lady?" asked the Wizard.
"My name is Theadora Typhoon, and I want to go home."
"The Wizard can grant your wish, if you tell me where home is."
"Home is where you are, oh Great One. I used to live in the Grey Palace before you stole the wizardship from my Uncle Harry."
"GUARDS!!! SEIZE THAT WOMAN!" yelled the Great Ozbama. "TAKE HER TO THE PRISON AND LOCK HER UP!" So the guards did just that, and locked up poor Theadora with chains of finest gold. Her pet chinchilla Spot had escaped through an open window, never to be seen again.
IN THE MEANTIME . . . the Wizard returned to his room and removed his crown and robe. "I'm going to take a nap before dinner. And make sure the chateaubriand is cooked right this time. Now, get out of here and let me sleep in peace." The servants and guards left, while the Wizard flopped on his royal bed and was asleep in minutes.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Theadora's wrists were very sore from the rough treatment of the guards. It was dark in the prison, but when her eyes adjusted, she noticed that she wasn't alone: There were hundreds of people, just like her, chained to the walls, their slouched attitude evidence of great depression.
"Did you all say something wrong, too? Have you seen my pet chinchilla? When is dinner served?" The other prisoners just stared at Theadora with blank faces. This was going to be a very long night.
. . . . . .to be continued . . . . . .
The Wizard of Ozbama: Barak Obama
Theadora Typhoon: Michelle Obama
The Cowardly Coyote: Colin Powell
The Scaremonger: Joe Biden
The Tan Man: Bill Clinton
Auntie En: Cindy McCain
Uncle Harry: John McCain
Wicked Witch of the Way-out West: Nancy Pelosi
Good Witch of the Further West: Sarah Palin
Secretary of State: Spike Lee
Secretary of Defense: Puff Daddy
Secretary of the Treasury: 50 Cent
M'Lady of the Privy Chamber: Hillary Clinton
The Two Guards: Al Sharpton and Charles Rangel
Lord High Executioner: William Ayers
Enemies of the Realm: Anyone who voted for Uncle Harry
ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a new king named the Wizard of Ozbama. He wanted everyone in his kingdom to share the wealth, except his wealth. About a year after his ascension to the throne, things were not going very well. Standing on a balcony in his palace in the Wizarddom of the United States of Ozbama, with his two armed guards holding AK-47's and fanning him lovingly with banana leaves, he addressed his subjects:
"My good people," he began, "You know that the economic crisis in the first year of my reign has resulted in tightening our belts. Even here in the Grey Palace, we learned to live a little leaner; my staff of servants did without breakfast and lunch". At this remark there was great snickering from the crowd. "I now proclaim by this decree, that we are begining to share the wealth in earnest. On October 1st, all homes with central heat will share their wealth with those neighbors who haven't paid their heating bills for the last fifty years. On that day, all customers with central heat who pay their bills, will have to pay for twenty-five customers who don't." There was much applause and cheers from the crowd.
Then the Wizard continued: " You know that I love you all, you are my subjects and I am your Wizard, but some of you have shown a lack of respect for me. And because of this, those who have done this misdeed shall be punished, according to the New Constitution of the Wizarddom of the United States of Ozbama." There was an audible gasp from the crowd. "A representative from the office of the Secretary of Defense will inspect every home in the Wizarddom to search for anti-Ozbama material. Anything against me that is found will be confiscated and the people living in that home will be arrested and taken to prison. Well, that's all folks, have a nice day." And with that parting shot, the Wizard turned to go back into his air conditioned palace. But suddenly a pleading voice called up to him.
"Oh great Wizard! Please listen to me! I need to ask you a question!"
"And to whom am I to address my answer to, young lady?" asked the Wizard.
"My name is Theadora Typhoon, and I want to go home."
"The Wizard can grant your wish, if you tell me where home is."
"Home is where you are, oh Great One. I used to live in the Grey Palace before you stole the wizardship from my Uncle Harry."
"GUARDS!!! SEIZE THAT WOMAN!" yelled the Great Ozbama. "TAKE HER TO THE PRISON AND LOCK HER UP!" So the guards did just that, and locked up poor Theadora with chains of finest gold. Her pet chinchilla Spot had escaped through an open window, never to be seen again.
IN THE MEANTIME . . . the Wizard returned to his room and removed his crown and robe. "I'm going to take a nap before dinner. And make sure the chateaubriand is cooked right this time. Now, get out of here and let me sleep in peace." The servants and guards left, while the Wizard flopped on his royal bed and was asleep in minutes.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Theadora's wrists were very sore from the rough treatment of the guards. It was dark in the prison, but when her eyes adjusted, she noticed that she wasn't alone: There were hundreds of people, just like her, chained to the walls, their slouched attitude evidence of great depression.
"Did you all say something wrong, too? Have you seen my pet chinchilla? When is dinner served?" The other prisoners just stared at Theadora with blank faces. This was going to be a very long night.
. . . . . .to be continued . . . . . .
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