Once upon a time there was a girl named Dorothy. She loved to ride her bike through her little crap village filled with farmhands that obviously did no work judging by the lack of dirt on their clothing. She stayed with her Auntie Em, a woman who also managed to stay fastidiously clean despite, you know, living on a farm.
One day Dorothy’s dog, Toto, bit the neighbor. Fearing rabies, the neighbor demanded that the dog be brought in for testing. Dorothy refused, then a tornado came, and wouldn’t you know it, Dorothy and her rabies dog were whisked away to another land.
“Boy that sure was a strange and quite physics-defying tornado,” Dorothy remarked, rising from the floor where she’d been knocked unconscious. Strangely, she had no marks at all upon her despite the massive amount of trauma required to knock someone nigh-comatose! Amber Heard saw this, and took notes for her next trial session.
Meanwhile Dorothy and Toto left the house and found out they’d whacked some lady. The dancing little people that stood around the house cheered and danced, as we all do when the landlord has kicked it and we no longer have to pay rent. Then another witch came and forced Dorothy to wear the dead witch’s ruby slippers. Because a shoe worn is one less shoe sold, and that gives China less money for its military, which in turn gives Taiwan that much more of a chance in the inevitable future invasion.
“I want to go home,” Dorothy told the good witch.
The witch smiled. “No free handouts on my watch,” she wisely informed Dorothy. “If I don’t make you do something for it, you’ll just come constantly, begging for free rides home after one-night stands and all manner of keggers. No, no, no, that just won’t do. But if you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. There’s this other witch who’s really pissed that you stole her sister’s shoes and she’s the only other witch around so if you could just go ahead and kill her, you’d be making life that much better for both you and me. Oh, and I’d uber you right back to wherever the hell you want to go.”
Dorothy shook the witch’s hand and set off on her journey. Along the way her dog savaged a scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion. All of whom were forced to join her on her hit in exchange for her calling off the mutt.
Finally they reached the witch. She was green, wore black clothes, and had a fetish for flying monkeys.
“Nice shoes,” she said, seeing Dorothy and her gang enter her realm. Next to her was a bucket labeled sulphuric acid.
“Quick, Lion, distract her while I douse her with this bucket of ‘water’.” Dorothy yelled, making quotation marks in the air.
“Wait, what?” said the witch. The ‘water’ cascaded over her and she melted into a puddle of goop and green goo.
“Hooray,” they said. They went to see the good witch.
“I did what you asked,” Dorothy said. “I killed the evil witch.”
“Yay! Can you say magic monopoly?” the good witch gloated. “My prices just quadrupled you little shits,” she shouted to the nearby munchkins. They glared at Dorothy.
“Now can you send me home?” Dorothy asked the good witch.
The good witch sighed and pointed behind her. “But Dorothy, you are already home!”
Dorothy turned and her mouth dropped open. She dropped to her knees, groping at the dirt in a non-sensual manner. “You bastards! You went all the way social justice and made the world into a magical fantasy land where people sing songs and eat candy yet somehow don’t get fat.”
She rose, her face screwed up tight into the most evil expression to ever grace the post-social justice apocalypse, her hands balled into fists. Then she began to goosestep away.
“Dorothy, where are you going?” the lion asked.
“I’m going to take back America. Then I’m going to take back the world!”
To be continued? Find out in the next newsletter!
(Cartoon graphic credited in image)
Sconnie Books 