[FFML] [OZ] Faces of Oz

[John Biles]

Author's Foreword:

    This is the same scenario with four different protagonists, so each
section is basically it's own short story.  It is an experiment in showing
how the same basic plot can change depending on who the protagonist is.

*************************

Faces of Oz

An Oz fanfiction

By John Biles

***************

Face 1:  Dorothy Gale

    King Spudnico the First studied his gardeners hard at work, scampering
about on their stubby little legs.  Like himself, they were potato people;
their core body was a five foot to six foot tall potato and they attached
limbs, eyes, noses, mouths, ears, and other accessories according to their
needs at any given time in order to perform tasks.  Like all Ozites, they
were unaging and unkillable, but unlike most Ozites, it was much easier to
reassemble them after a disaster.  They were, however, somewhat more prone
to disaster than many Ozites, or at least the human ones, whose limbs didn't
come off so easily.

    King Spudnico was quite pleased with the magical fertilizer he'd bought
from Mombi.  Now the giant flowers with human faces grew within a few days
instead of months and he could finally achieve his dream of an entire chorus
of flower singers in time for his wife's birthday.  Every year, the high
heat of summer killed them off and the winter was too cold here in the
Gillikin lands for him to grow them.  This time, though, he would finally
have the present he'd always wanted to give her.

    Mind you, this did involve just a little violation of the magic
restriction laws and just a little trafficking with one of the top three
people on Oz's Most Wanted List, but Ozma would never know.  His kingdom
wasn't even on the official maps.  And what were the odds that one of Ozma's
wandering enforcers would just stumble in here?  He'd never seen any of the
princesses or princes who enforced her will.  And probably never would,
given that his kingdom was hidden away in the deep forest where no one ever
came, and if they did, the wolves ate them.  The wolves ignored the potato
people, however, as they didn't want vegetables.

    So, there was no chance of any of them showing up.

    Distantly, there was the fumbling sound of his heralds switching
accessories.  "No, that's your eye hole, you fool!" he heard one of the
guards shout.

    A visitor?

    A horn blew and a guard shouted, "Princess Dorothy Gale has arrived to
inspect the kingdom and add it to the Royal Map of Oz."

    The King tried to slap his forehead, but he was wearing his short arms,
as the long arms tended to sag.  He flailed, then drew himself together and
checked he was wearing his crown accessory and not his comfy straw hat he
would often wear on a long spring afternoon while sipping some tea with his
drinking mouth.  Fortunately, he had his speaking mouth on and his crown.

    Princess Dorothy Gale was a brunette with long hair tied into two
braided tails, which ran down her front over her white mid-calf-length dress
which had a grid of blue stripes over the white, though the white
dominated.  She wore high red socks and silver slippers.  She carried a
picnic basket in one hand and a small brown yappy dog tagged along at her
feet.

    She strode up as if she owned the place, studying everything with intent
curiosity, a pleasant smile on her face.  "Hello, yer highness," she said
cheerfully.  "Yer a giant potato."

    "Yes, I am," he said.  "And you are made of meat."  He had never
understood why meat people always seemed to find it necessary to comment on
what people were made out of it.  But he was used to it.  At least Mombi had
stopped reminding him he was a potato every time he saw her.

    She'd been oddly generous last time, too.  But he was not one to remove
a horse's mouth accessory to peer into the hole, so...

    The flower singers began to sing.  "o/~ You are made of meat / a
stuffing that can't be beat / 350 in the oven to  heat / soon you'll have a
tasty treat! o/~"

    Oh bloody hell, he thought.  Immature flower singers tended to sing
immature songs.  They were all snickering at their own cleverness now.

    Fortunately, Princess Dorothy was laughing.  "That's a new one, yer
highness.  So how do you get them to grow so fast?  The ones in Ozma's
gardens are still just lil babies.  They only sing goo-goo ga-ga, though the
Scarecrow got them to sing Radio Ga-ga one time.  But then, he's got
wizard-made brains in his head.  Makes him very smart."

    King Spudnico had read enough of the writings of the Royal Historian of
Oz to know that if he handled this badly, the Scarecrow's powerful brains
would soon be put to work finding a good recipe for a really huge bowl of
potato soup.

    Or worse, he would be given to the Patchwork girl to play with.

    "We sing to them, it stimulates growth," he said desperately.

    Dorothy bent over and picked up a bag labelled 'Mombi's Magic
Fertilizer.  One pinch per plant per day.  Do not water after midnight'.
"This looks like magic fertilizer to me."

    "Oh my, that must have blown in over the walls."

    Dorothy pointed to the gardener hard at work with an open bag
fertilizing the plants.  "N' that?"

    "Clearly a..."  It wasn't worth it.  "Guards, lock her up!"

    "I'm a Princess of Oz!  You canna just lock me up!" Dorothy protested as
the potato guards grabbed her with their free hands.  (Their other hands had
a spear affixed to them and couldn't be used for grabbing, you see.)  "Ozma
will make you regret this!"

    Toto jumped at one of the guards, but got punted away.  The King would
have put on his sword arm, but it was in the armory, as he hadn't been
expecting any trouble.  He began to run for the armory, but now Toto chased
him.  His stumpy legs soon had an angry yappy dog clinging to one of them.
Fortunately, his accessories had no nerves, so he felt no pain.

    The guards took Dorothy away to the dungeons.  Now, it is very easy to
imprison one of the potato people, you simply remove their arm and leg
accessories and put them in a room on a bench to contemplate their sins
until they have done their time.

    The guards found themselves rather non-plussed that Dorothy's limbs
would not come off however they tried to figure it out. They'd heard meat
people were strange, but this was exceptionally so.  How did meat people
adapt to changing circumstances?

    They tried just closing the door, but she opened it and tried to run the
second they weren't looking.

    Finally, Guardsman Idaho was forced to sit against the door, holding it
shut, while the prisoner sat on a bench inside and pouted.

    He had his back to the door and thus was blissfully unaware of the
handsigns which Dorothy made promptly at 2 PM; every day, Ozma would scry
her with her mirror and see if Dorothy needed help.  This particular set of
signs meant 'The local King has locked me up and needs to become a
knicknack'.

    The Magic Belt had once belonged to the wicked Ruggedo, the Nome King.
It was Ozma's most treasured posession, as she could turn her wishes to
reality with it.  And so she now used it to turn King Spudnico and all his
subjects to the size of normal potatoes, which made it easy for Dorothy to
escape, collect them in her picnic basket, and bring them back to the
Emerald City for punishment for violating the laws against unauthorized
magic.
    This is why wise kings of Oz flee for the hills whenever they hear
Dorothy is coming and never, never look back.

****************

Face 2:  Button Bright:

     King Spudnico the First studied his gardeners hard at work, scampering
about on their stubby little legs.  Like himself, they were potato people;
their core body was a five foot to six foot tall potato and they attached
limbs, eyes, noses, mouths, ears, and other accessories according to their
needs at any given time in order to perform tasks.  Like all Ozites, they
were unaging and unkillable, but unlike most Ozites, it was much easier to
reassemble them after a disaster.  They were, however, somewhat more prone
to disaster than many Ozites, or at least the human ones, whose limbs didn't
come off so easily.

    King Spudnico was quite pleased with the magical fertilizer he'd bought
from Mombi.  Now the giant flowers with human faces grew within a few days
instead of months and he could finally achieve his dream of an entire chorus
of flower singers in time for his wife's birthday.  Every year, the high
heat of summer killed them off and the winter was too cold here in the
Gillikin lands for him to grow them.  This time, though, he would finally
have the present he'd always wanted to give her.

    Mind you, this did involve just a little violation of the magic
restriction laws and just a little trafficking with one of the top three
people on Oz's Most Wanted List, but Ozma would never know.  His kingdom
wasn't even on the official maps.  And what were the odds that one of Ozma's
wandering enforcers would just stumble in here?  He'd never seen any of the
princesses or princes who enforced her will.  And probably never would,
given that his kingdom was hidden away in the deep forest where no one ever
came, and if they did, the wolves ate them.  The wolves ignored the potato
people, however, as they didn't want vegetables.

    So, there was no chance of any of them showing up.

    Distantly, there was the fumbling sound of his heralds switching
accessories.  "No, that's your eye hole, you fool!" he heard one of the
guards shout.

    A visitor?

    A horn blew and a guard shouted, "Prince Saladin Paracelsus de
Lambertine Evagne von Smith of the Emerald City has arrived."

    The King frowned.  Who?  He'd never heard of any such prince.  Which
meant this was almost certainly a scam.  Or possibly that pestilent wizard
under a disguise.  Yes, that made sense.  And who knew the wizard's real
name, anyway?

    One of the guards now escorted a young boy, probably not more than five
or six, who was clutching a fine bamboo umbrella with a silver point on the
end, with red silk between the bamboo poles.  He wore a blue and white
sailor suit with matching white hat with blue ribbon, along with shiny black
shoes.  His expression was strangely blank, his eyes staring, empty, cold,
soulless, unblinking, relentless.  The King felt those eyes burrowing into
his soul and extracting all his secrets.

    Surely the Wizard of Oz could not be so short.  A disguise.  Of course.
No doubt his famous magical bag had been disguised as the umbrella.  But you
can't fool me, the King thought.

    "It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Saladin Paracelsus de Lambertine
Evagne von Smith," the King said.  "We do not get many royal visitors."

    The boy nodded silently, continuing to stare at him.

    "I am King Spudnico the First," he said.  "Ruler of the Potato Kingdom."

    The boy held out his hand silently.  King Spudnico studied it for runes,
then shook it; this seemed to satisfy the boy.

    "What brings you here?" the King asked.

    "Don't know," the boy pronounced.  But his steady, relentless gaze made
this seem implausible.

    "You just happened to stumble on my kingdom?" the King asked, finding
that unlikely.

    The boy nodded.

    "How do you like my singing flowers?" he asked, gesturing to them as
they grew magnificently.

    "Don't know."

    Reasonable.  Given they weren't singing.  "Sing my magnificent flowers!"
he said.

    O/~ My petals magnify my king / Oh let us sing / Ring a ding ding o/~

    Obviously they hadn't come to full maturity.

    Nevertheless, the Prince seemed utterly fascinated, staring at the
flowers.  One by one they fell silent, confronted by his unblinking,
relentless, silent gaze, unable to perform so long as he just kept looking.

    The King glanced down and noticed that there were bags of Mombi's magic
fertilizer IN PLAIN SIGHT.  Surely the Wizard had seen them.  But why wasn't
he saying anything?  He was totally, utterly silent.  Pretending not to
notice anything.

    He was screwed unless he took immediate action.

    "How would you like to see my candy collection?" King Spudnico asked.

    "With my eyes," the boy replied.

    The King had nothing to say to that, so he led the boy, who he was quite
sure was the Wizard in disguise, down to the kitchen; quite soon, the boy
stuffed himself with candy, then began bouncing off the walls.  Once he
sugar-crashed, he had the boy taken down to a cell.

    Then he went back to his normal business.  Once his work was done, he
went down to the cell.  The boy was sitting on the bench, staring out the
window.  The prison guards were all positioned where they couldn't see him.

    "You need to watch him!" the King said angrily to one of the guards.

    "You don't know what it's like!  He just stares!  It's like he knows
EVERYTHING," the frantic guard said.

    "Yeah, I had to take my eyes off so I couldn't see him," another one
said, who had put on an extra set of ears where his eyes normally went, so
he could guide himself by keen hearing.

    The King put on his most intent and angry set of eyes, which he'd gone
and gotten from his room just for this.  Two could play at that game.  His
eyes were permanently open and potatoes do not need to blink, so how could
he lose?

    He stood at the door, looking in through the window, and began trying to
stare the boy down.  The WIZARD.

    They stared at each other, intently.

    Ozma checked on the boy, as she does each day at 3 PM, and saw he and a
giant potato-man were staring at each other.  This was pretty much what she
expected to be happening, so she moved on to other affairs.

    So they stared.

    And stared.

    And stared.

    And stared.

    Three days later, the King broke.  One more second staring into the
boy's eyes and he would go mad.  He fell to his knees.  "Fine!  You win!  I
bought magic fertilizer from Mombi!  Go ahead, reveal your true self!  Take
me away!  JUST STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!!!!"

    The boy turned and looked at the wall.

    "Damn you!  Show your true self!  You win!"

    "Win what?" the boy asked curiously.

    "STOP TRYING TO TRICK ME I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

    The boy turned and looked at him silently.

    "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

    They say the king ran all the way to the Emerald City, just so as to get
it over with.  Having heard the King's confession, Ozma brought
Button-Bright home with the Magic Belt and sentenced the king to garbage
pickup duty on the Yellow Brick Road since he had turned himself in.

    And kept the fertilizer for HER magic flowers, since she could legally
use it, though she gave some to Glinda the Good Witch, who also keeps a
fancy magical garden, and is licensed to practice magic.  Sharing is good,
so long as it's legal.

*****************

Face 3:  Betsy Bobbin

    King Spudnico the First studied his gardeners hard at work, scampering
about on their stubby little legs.  Like himself, they were potato people;
their core body was a five foot to six foot tall potato and they attached
limbs, eyes, noses, mouths, ears, and other accessories according to their
needs at any given time in order to perform tasks.  Like all Ozites, they
were unaging and unkillable, but unlike most Ozites, it was much easier to
reassemble them after a disaster.  They were, however, somewhat more prone
to disaster than many Ozites, or at least the human ones, whose limbs didn't
come off so easily.

    King Spudnico was quite pleased with the magical fertilizer he'd bought
from Mombi.  Now the giant flowers with human faces grew within a few days
instead of months and he could finally achieve his dream of an entire chorus
of flower singers in time for his wife's birthday.  Every year, the high
heat of summer killed them off and the winter was too cold here in the
Gillikin lands for him to grow them.  This time, though, he would finally
have the present he'd always wanted to give her.

    Mind you, this did involve just a little violation of the magic
restriction laws and just a little trafficking with one of the top three
people on Oz's Most Wanted List, but Ozma would never know.  His kingdom
wasn't even on the official maps.  And what were the odds that one of Ozma's
wandering enforcers would just stumble in here?  He'd never seen any of the
princesses or princes who enforced her will.  And probably never would,
given that his kingdom was hidden away in the deep forest where no one ever
came, and if they did, the wolves ate them.  The wolves ignored the potato
people, however, as they didn't want vegetables.

    So, there was no chance of any of them showing up.

    Distantly, there was the fumbling sound of his heralds switching
accessories.  "No, that's your eye hole, you fool!" he heard one of the
guards shout.

    A visitor?

    A horn blew and a guard shouted, "Princess Betsy Bobbin has arrived for
tea."

    The King blinked in surprise.  The eldest of the Princesses after Ozma
herself?  Dropping by for tea?  It was possible; she was known to do this,
but this was a long way to come for a social call.  Or had Ozma gotten wind
of his dealings with Mombi and sent her to investigate?  Quite possible.  Or
possibly she had forgotten her birthday again and wanted to celebrate it;
the Princess apparently celebrates her birthday several times a year and no
one else is willing to remind her of the correct date because everyone in Oz
loves a good party.

    Princess Betsy Bobbin had very wavy blonde hair, down to just below her
shoulders; she wore a green and red cloth hat, tied on with a green ribbon
which wrapped around it and formed a bow in the back.  Her sparkling blue
eyes were full of good cheer and she wore a green sundress, red socks, and
red slippers.  She carried a wicker carry tray in one hand; one side had
elegant crystal glasses, the other side was full of jars with leaves.

    She held out a hand and the King shook it.  "It's a pleasure to have
you, Princess Betsy," he said very seriously.  Best not to antagonize an
envoy of Ozma needlessly, though what was in that odd tray thing?

    "Hello, your highness.  I've heard you make very good desserts here, so
I thought I would drop by for tea.  I brought the tea if you can provide the
desserts," she said cheerfully.

    The King felt quite relieved.  "Here, let me show you my magic singing
flowers."  He wanted to show off the glory of his kingdom.

    "That's very kind of you, sir," Betsy said, letting herself be led
over.

    "Sing!  Sing for the Princess!" he commanded the flowers.

    O/~ For the Princess o/~, they sang.

    The King tried to reach his forehead, but he wasn't wearing the right
arms to reach that high; he hadn't expected to need them.  Thus, he could
not nervously rub his forehead as he desired.

    "Sing a song for the Princess!  And don't just repeat what I say!"

    o/~ Buy Mombi's Magic Fertilizer / It'll make your garden grow / Buy
Mombi's Magic Fertilizer / Your plants will put on a show!  Burma Shave! o/~

    The King stared at them.  What did Burma Shave have to do with
anything?  Potatoes don't need to shave, they just put on body hair when
they want it, then take it off when they don't.

    "Oh dear," Betsy Bobbin said.  "Your flowers are advertising illegal
magic."  She sounded quite worried.

    The King twitched.  Worse, he could see the bag for Mombi's Magical
Fertilizer LYING OUT IN THE OPEN.  I am DOOMED, he thought.

    "Let's have some tea, and then I'm going to have to arrest the whole
bed."  She sounded quite apologetic.

    He stared in surprise, then nodded with relief.  Not that you could
easily tell he was staring, since his eye accessories never blink and
present the same wide-eyed countenance despite shifts of emotion.

    They went to the kitchen and she brewed some tea and they had a very
nice chat, while the gardeners arranged to put the singing flowers onto some
mobile carts.  They also quietly hid the fertilizer bags.

    "I'm very sorry I have to arrest your garden," Betsy said.

    The King sighed.  Once again, I won't have flowers ready to sing for my
lovely wife.  "Well, what must be done, must be done."  At least he would be
here to attend her birthday instead of cooking in a pot.  "So what will
become of them?"

    "They'll have to do time in Ozma's gardens as community service," Betsy
said.  "But they have to be removed before they influence anyone to do
something even more illegal, like actually using illegal magic and not just
advertising it.  More sugar?"

    "Yes, please," he said, letting her stir it into his cup because he
didn't have his arms with an attached spoon handy.

    They had a nice chat, and when Ozma checked in on Betsy around 1 PM,
Betsy signaled the Queen to send her someone strong to help out, so the
Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger were sent to pull the wagons full of
criminal advertising jingle flowers back to the Emerald City.

    That, of course, led to other adventures.

    But that is a story for another time.

*******************

Faces of Oz 4:

Face 1:  Dorothy Gale

    King Spudnico the First studied his gardeners hard at work, scampering
about on their stubby little legs.  Like himself, they were potato people;
their core body was a five foot to six foot tall potato and they attached
limbs, eyes, noses, mouths, ears, and other accessories according to their
needs at any given time in order to perform tasks.  Like all Ozites, they
were unaging and unkillable, but unlike most Ozites, it was much easier to
reassemble them after a disaster.  They were, however, somewhat more prone
to disaster than many Ozites, or at least the human ones, whose limbs didn't
come off so easily.

    King Spudnico was quite pleased with the magical fertilizer he'd bought
from Mombi.  Now the giant flowers with human faces grew within a few days
instead of months and he could finally achieve his dream of an entire chorus
of flower singers in time for his wife's birthday.  Every year, the high
heat of summer killed them off and the winter was too cold here in the
Gillikin lands for him to grow them.  This time, though, he would finally
have the present he'd always wanted to give her.

    Mind you, this did involve just a little violation of the magic
restriction laws and just a little trafficking with one of the top three
people on Oz's Most Wanted List, but Ozma would never know.  His kingdom
wasn't even on the official maps.  And what were the odds that one of Ozma's
wandering enforcers would just stumble in here?  He'd never seen any of the
princesses or princes who enforced her will.  And probably never would,
given that his kingdom was hidden away in the deep forest where no one ever
came, and if they did, the wolves ate them.  The wolves ignored the potato
people, however, as they didn't want vegetables.

    So, there was no chance of any of them showing up.

    One of the great flaws of the anatomy of sentient potatoes is that is
VERY hard for them to look up.  They have no necks, so unless they rearrange
their accessories and put their eyes where their hat or crown or other
headgear or hair normally slots in, they can only look upwards by lying on
their backs.  Thus, anything from above catches them by surprise.

    Thus, the King was utterly without warning when suddenly a rainbow
slammed down onto his flowers, squashing them flat.  They did not die,
because nothing in Oz can be killed.  Cut into 1 micron cubes and scattered
in a fine mist across Oz, but it won't actually die.  Every one micron cube
will be alive.

    In some sense of the word alive.

    Princess Trot, youngest of the princesses of Oz now came dancing down
the rainbow with her usual companion / guardian / partner in crime, Captain
Bill.  Trot had short close cropped black hair topped with a cheerful yellow
straw hat with a blue ribbon woven in and out through the crown of the hat.
She wore a white and blue sailor suit similar that often worn by Prince
Button-Bright, though scaled for a ten year old instead of a creepy little
boy.  She also wore hiking boots.  She had a soft blue scarf in each hand
with which she was trying to copy the dance of her third companion,
Polychrome the Rainbow's Daughter, who had brought them here.  Cap'n Bill is
perhaps most easily imagined as the Skipper from Gilligan's Island with a
peg-leg.  Polychrome could easily be mistaken for a piece of cotton candy
which had achieved sentience, as she was a sky fairy usually swaddled in
flowing, fluffy robes that resembled woven cobwebs, tinted in many colors
from across the spectrum, from azure to rose.  Her golden hair was much
longer than Trot's and flew about wildly as she danced.

    "MY FLOWERS!" the King said angrily.

    "What flowers?" Trot asked, dancing down off the rainbow.  "Thanks for
the ride, Polychrome."

    "You're welcome, my friend," Polychrome said, slowly swaying to a beat
that only existed inside her head.

    Cap'n Bill hopped off the rainbow, driving his peg-leg right into a bag
of magical fertilizer.  To his consternation, his peg-leg began to sprout
branches and leaves.  "Consternation!  I reck'n I've done stuck my poor leg
in someth'n magical."

    "Mombi's...", Trot began. "I can't read the rest through your swiftly
sprout'n pegleg, Cap'n."

    "Dadblast it, it's try'n to take root!"  the Cap'n said.

    "You have slaughtered my flowers!"

    Polychrome hopped down and she and Trot helped pull his leg out of the
fertilizer before it could take root, but this still left them holding up
one of his legs which now had a bush attached to his stump.

    Worse, the wind shifted, a cloud blew across the sun and the rainbow
vanished.

    "PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" the King bellowed.

    "This would be a lot easier if that lumpy fellow would stop yell'n,"
Trot said.

    "My rainbow!  I can't get home.  AGAIN!"  Polychrome wailed.

    "That does seem to happ'n every time we see you," Trot said.  "I'm very
sorry."

    "GUARDS!  LOCK THEM UP!"

    It was not too hard for the guards to overcome two young kids and a old
man with a bush for a leg.  It was a little harder to keep them imprisoned,
since only the old man's leg would actually come off.  They took the bush
off, leaving him with a stumpy leg and one good leg.  He wasn't going
anywhere with one leg, so they left him in a normal cell.

    They put Trot and Polychrome in a cell together and had a guard sit down
blocking the door from opening.

    Stupid intruders.  He would deal with them later, once fresh flowers had
been planted.

    Thus, he was blissfully unaware that at 4 PM, Ozma looked into her
mirror and checked on Trot as she does every day.  Trot gave her the 'A girl
needs a knife and they took mine' signal, so Ozma used her magic belt to
wish a knife into Trot's cell and a second one for Polychrome, just in case.

    Physically, Trot is ten.  No one physically ages in Oz.  However, she
was born in 1905, and it is now the year 2009.  Making her a ten year old
with the skills picked up in 94 years of adventuring with a late
nineteenth-early twentieth century ship captain.  Thus, with Polychrome's
help, it was fairly easy to whittle the bench in the cell into two baseball
bats and a new peg-leg for Cap'n Bill.

    It was quite easy to hide all three in Polychrome's flowing robes, since
they made her resemble a cloud as much as a person.

    Then Trot used standard prisoner trick number nine, and began rolling
around on the floor, moaning.  "I feel sick."

    The guard rose and came in, expecting they couldn't possibly threaten
him; he was much bigger than both of them.

    He bent down to pick up Trot and carry her to the infirmary.  Then
Polychrome whipped out the two bats and whacked him in the back with both of
them.  Very gently, because she is a kindly soul who is not very
aggressive.  She might have hurt someone!

    Trot decided next time, Polychrome got to be the one who was sick.

    The guard rose and turned, staring at Polychrome.  "Are those baseball
bats?"

    "I...uhmmm..."  Polychrome began dancing because that's how Polychrome
rolls.  When in doubt, dance.

    He stared, fascinated by her dancing.

    Then Trot headbutted him from behind and he fell down, then she popped
his leg accessories out before he could recover and rise.  They soon got
Cap'n Bill out of his cell and put his new leg on.  She passed a bat to the
captain and kept one for herself.

    The problem, however, was what to do next.  They were not numerous to
take on the entire kingdom, especially since Polychrome was basically not
much use in a fight.  And she felt certain the evil potato king was unlikely
to agree to a dance-off.

    "Are you sure?" Polychrome asked hopefully.

    "Only the vainest of potatoes would hope to win a dance contest with
Cap'n Bill, let alone you," Trot said.  "No offense, Cap'n."

    "None taken.  I can't dance a jig like I used to, with just this wood'n
leg."  He got out his pipe and began smoking; it helped him think.  "I'm
suppos'n it's unlikely we could trick them into wrapp'n themselves in
tinfoil."

    Polychrome's stomach rumbled.  "I don't suppose they might have any
mistcakes and dew."  She could eat only the most etherial of foods.

    "I'm assum'n that they eat dirt and water," Cap'n Bill said.  "We're all
too old for mudpies."

    "I'm ten, I'm still allowed," Trot said firmly.

    "I'm not sure how old I am because Baum and O'Neill seemed to have
different ideas about that," Polychrome confessed.

    "Well, I am pretty sure mudpies are NOT cloudy enough for you,
Princess," Cap'n Bill said, puffing away.  He blew off a small cloud of
smoke, which Polychrome nimbly seized and ate.  He nearly dropped his pipe
in surprise.

    "Hmm, minty," Polychrome said.  "I fear I will stain my perfect teeth if
I am not careful.  Well, it's worth the risk not to be hungry."

    "You sure?" the Cap'n added.

    "Yes," Polychrome said.  She was always the most reckless of the
Rainbow's daughters.

    Soon, she was quite full after several clouds of tobacco smoke were
wafted her way by the Cap'n, though he wasn't so sure this was a good idea.
But he could not resist her plea for sustenance.

    Don't try this at home, kids, Polychrome is a professional.

    The Royal Historian of Oz is not liable for any injuries caused by
efforts to imitate this feat or medical bills incurred thereby.

    The Cap'n finally came up with a plan.  The dungeon, being a dungeon,
had rope.  So they used the rafters and the rope to hoist themselves up and
lurk above; sentient potatos are not noted for their skills at looking up,
remember.

    So when the King had his palace searched, the search missed them and
they were able to wait for dark, then let themselves down.

    Silently, they crept through the castle, slipping into each room and
making off with everyone's arms and legs.  Pretty soon, they had disarmed
most of the potato folk.  There were, however, guards up on the walls, which
would require something better to deal with.  Trot had more combat
experience than Bruce Lee, but the strength of a ten year old girl.  An
unfortunate side effect of the magical stasis of Oz was that ninety years of
adventure couldn't make her any stronger than she was on her arrival in Oz.
Thus, she had a great deal of skill, yet couldn't use it as effectively as
she would like.

    Thus, she couldn't easily outrun potato people or easily outfight them
without tricking them first.

    They went to the kitchen, made themselves a snack, and tried to come up
with a clever plan.

    "Perhaps we can get some burlap sacks and disguise ourselves as potato
people," Polychrome said.  "Use their accessories, pose as their relief,
wait for them to go to bed..."

    "You and Trot are too short," Cap'n Bill said.

    "Depends on who is drawing me," Polychrome pointed out.  "O'Neill seemed
to think I was adult."

    "I'm still too short," Trot said, frustrated.  "There are certainly
times where eternal youth is over-rated."

    "No one can get any in Oz," Cap'n Bill observed.  "So no point 'n
growing up.  You'd probably just get your leg eat'n by a shark, anyway."

    "Get any what?" Trot asked.

    "Yer too young t'be worry'n about that," he said, filling his pipe and
smoking thoughtfully while Polychrome snacked on the clouds.

    "Hmm, if we had someth'n to knock people out, we could put it 'n their
food, bring them a snack..." Trot said thoughtfully.

    "But we don't," Polychrome said thoughtfully.  "And Father can't send us
a rainbow at night."

    "What's the use of being a kung-fu master if you can't actually hurt
anyone with your little kid strength," Trot grumbled to herself.

    They wandered around the kitchen thinking until Polychrome nearly
tripped over a chair from not looking where she was dancing.

    "That's it!" she said.

    "What?" Cap'n Bill said.

    "Tripline.  They can't look down any easier than they look up, right?"
she said.

    It was worth trying.  They spent the rest of the night preparing net
traps and triplines.  Cap'n Bill and Trot's many hours of working on the
rigg'n of ships came in right handy here.

    Finally, they had their traps set up, then they lurked in ambush; They
armed Polychrome with pies because everyone loves a good pie fight and she
was actually capable of throwing a non-lethal attack without hesitation.
She would aim for their eyes; the pies would blind any who didn't fall into
the traps, then it was bat time.

    Four of the guards fell into the traps, leaving two.  Polychrome danced
up to them, a pie in each hand, while they stared at the beauty of her
movements.  Then they each got a pie to the face, followed by Trot
kneecapping one of them from behind and Cap'n Bill knocking another one
down.  Soon they had them disarmed and then had another problem.

    What do you do with an entire castle of limbless potato people?  Sure
you could have a really huge bowl of stew, but they weren't cruel enough to
do that to potatoes who think.

    Fortunately, when Ozma next checked in on them, they were able to have
her wish them all to the Emerald City so the whole affair could be sorted
out.  Trot was willing to let Ozma deus ex machina the boring cleaning up,
having solved the problem herself.  That would let her brag it up to Dorothy
at the next time Betsy celebrated her birthday.

    Until King Spudnico the First escaped and took her hostage, anyway.

    But that, gentle readers, is a story for another time.

    Let me leave you with a final moral, the point all four of these tales
express.

    If you see a young child in Oz...

    RUN FOR THE HILLS.


The End.
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