D: One day, A–
A: Don’t you start.
D: There’s so much potential in a simple “one day” word prompt, and yet. . .
A: Go on.
D: And yet, you fill it with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
A: Because The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is brilliant. Did I ever tell you that I thought I was Dorothy? I had several pairs of glittered Mary-Janes as a child. And a dog. In a basket.
D: I think you have told me, and yet each time, it’s a surprise.
A: Oi! it’s the mark of a creative—
D: (read: Crazy)
A: Creative mind. Why else did you think it was such a fertile place for you to take root?
D: Fertile? It’d darn-right hostile in here sometimes. Could you please tell your other characters to leave my stuff alone? I think I caught the kid from “The House at Carrick Close” filching the dagger the Druids gave me.
A: Be nice to Charlie. He didn’t mean anything by it.
D: That thing is gold, A. The little runt is looking to pawn it to buy more sweets, I know it.
A: He is not. He looks up to you, D. Be nice.
D: He does? Oh. Well. I suppose the little scamp can look at it if he wants . . . under supervision, mind! (Bloody kids and their sticky hands . . . mutter, mutter, grumble).
A: Here’s some handy-wipes. Now, behave.
D: Behave? What? What is Charlie doing here, A?
A: Oh nothing. Now, I’ll be back at 10. Make sure Charlie is in bed – he likes a night-light and a warm glass of milk, plus a story.
D: A? I am not your babysitter. A, where are you going? A! Come back here! A!
C: D. . . D, can I have a cookie?
D: No, now just sit there and let me read you a story. . . (I’ll get you for this, A. You and your little dog, too!)
Oh, what a world . . .
“One day, one day I’ll see to it your precious city is destroyed. One day, you will come crawling to me to bring back your power – without me you are nothing, little girl. You and that rat – one day, one day you’ll understand that you’re just like me.”
“What is she doing?”
“I don’t know – I kind of like it though.”
“But it’s not in the script.”
The two extras exchanged glances. Burt was dressed up as a gnarled tree today, and Roger was on sentry duty.
“So? It’s the Maestro’s show. Short of a bucket of water, I don’t think anything is going to stop her now.”
The sallow-skinned but curvaceous young woman cackled. Surely, it was only the light that made it green, Bert thought. Well, not really, but she’d paid for this little production, and he was going to be as generous with his thoughts as he could. Word was, she could read ‘em.
“Does anyone have a bucket of water?” Roger was looking around as though he was actually serious. As a Winkie, he could actually get close enough to do it, too.
“One day, I’ll get you my pretty – one day!”
“Cut! Westie, what are you doing, my luscious lime?”
“But Ozzie, I thought you wanted me to give it my all.”
“I do my love, but . . . but what’s with all this ‘one day’ stuff? Where’s your power? Where’s your now?”
“You mean, you like everything else?”
“Oh sure – it’s great. When we’re done here, no one is ever going to remember that Dora chick—“
“It’s Dorothy, Ozzie.”
“Whatever. She’s a minor thing, pet. You on the other hand, you are a star. Just go with it – but take out the ‘one day’ stuff. Remember, you’re powerful! You’re now!”
Bert and Roger eyed each other and groaned. It would be a good hour before Westie and Ozzie managed to bring themselves back to the production. Rodger jerked his chin to the canteen. Bert grinned and the two of them shuffled off. No one would miss one tree or a guard. So long as no one got fancy with that bucket of water, everything would be fine.
So, yes, I really did run around calling myself Dorothy Gale – shoes, basket, stuffed dog and all. If you could have been any character (movie, TV or book), who would you have been as a kid? What about today?