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. . . . . . . .

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.

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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 . . . . . .