The Horny Wizard of Oz (Horny Oz Book 1) by Alyce Thorndyke

Author:Alyce Thorndyke
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gropper Press
Published: 2020-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

I never went totally unconscious from the poppies, but I certainly couldn’t have walked to save my life. Thus, I relaxed and let the Woodman drag me out of the poppy field, and shortly I recovered my senses.

“Whew! Thanks guys. Those were some pretty mean mice.”

“Think nothing of it,” smiled the Tin Man. “Unless, of course, you want to pay me off with a little lovin’.”

“No problem,” I said. I had grown quite fond of his big dildo. Who would have ever thought I would fall in love with a metal peener?

“And Howard,” I asked. “How did you manage to stay sober and rescue us?”

“I was stoned from the catnip because the Tin Man smushed it up and pushed the concentrate right up my nostrils. Once that effect diminished a bit the size of my body required a stronger dose, and just smelling the flowers unconcentrated isn’t enough to give me more than a slight buzz.”

“Thank the Lord for big friends.”

We continued out journey up the yellow brick road. Interestingly, we had walked down to the poppy fields, now we were walking up towards a big, green glow in the sky.

The Scarecrow explained the situation. “All of Oz has been engineered like a big drainage ditch. Water flows down to the fields, but the city is a bit elevated so everybody can live dry.”

“That’s sort of ingenious,” I remarked.

By now we were entering the suburbs, and things didn’t look so good. The houses were green, as were the fences and the bushes and the lawns and everything. But it was a shabby green. Paint was peeling from wood, green weeds were taking over the lawns and shrubs, even the people looked a little shabby.

They were green, but it looked like the green of being seasick and ready to puke. Their faces were all scrunched up as if they were holding their upchuck in. They pretty much ignored us, being busy studying the ground and frowning, except for when one came too close and looked up to see Howard. Then they were too frightened to be sick.

“A lion!” yelped one green fellow, and he turned and ran down the street.

“Huh. This place is a ghetto,” I observed.

“What’s a ghetto?” asked the Scarecrow.

“It’s a place where the poor people live.

“Why would anybody live in a place like this?

“They think they are victims.”

“Of what?”

“Whatever they want. It’s always somebody else’s fault.”

My friends frowned a bit at that one. Even I had to admit it didn’t make much sense.

“So what do we do now?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Well, since this Oz place seems a wee bit unfriendly, being run by drug dealers and Witches and Wizards, let’s do a little reconnoitering.”

“How do we do that?”

For answer I turned up a walk of broken and chipped bricks and headed for a green house. I stepped onto a porch, avoided a broken plank, and knocked on the door. I heard a quick scampering as somebody hurried to answer, then the door swung back.

The woman was greenish, shrewish, skinnyish and suspicioush.

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