Exciting News!

Jenny Everywhere In Oz Will be published in a forthcoming issue of Oziana magazine in a greatly expanded and revised format. I have just seen an illustration of the Legion of Glindas and it is fantastic! I am so jazzed about seeing this in print and hearing what the world's hardcore Oz fans have to say about, I can't hardly wait.

The Royal Wedding: Prolog

"It's like a fairy tale, isn't it?", you might hear said by some ladies chatting away in the grocery store check out line. The pair are both in their late-30s, dressed in track suits and wearing Crocks on their feet, are looking at the cover of a celebrity gossip magazine with the shit-eating smiles of Prince William and Kate Middleton emblazoned across it. This gruesome two-some, inbetween episodes of Oprah and The View, are probably in the midst of seperate reverie in which they are being swept off their feet by "Wills" and taken off to Buckingham Palace for a good, long fuck-fest on silk sheets while rose petals fall from some heart shaped void in time and space floating over the bed. They are now a Princess and getting it from the heir-apparent is just one of the many benefits to this fairy-tale lifestyle. There are huge country estates, palaces, cars, planes, celebrity friends, jewels, designer clothes, excess and pampering!!!!! So much better than the IT stooge they married after college and feel obligated to toss a lay to once a week or so. Ugh! To think that I'm going to be added to this fantasy makes me a bit ashamed of myself.


(Regent Street decked out for the wedding)

I have been asked to cover the Royal Wedding for The Northwest Indiana Times Newspaper. I'll be providing some exclusive color content.

(Regent St. in wedding regalia)

I'm pretty anti-monarchy so I'm hoping to create a more balanced piece about the wedding than most sources will present. The fact is I have not met anyone in London who is excited about a couple of rich super-elites getting married. They are just happy to have the day off. The fact that the wedding is a national holiday helps placate the proleteriate resentments of hereditary heirs to thrones spending millions of pounds on their "special day" while the rest of us have to deal with the massive government cuts the Tories and their Lib-Dem lapdogs have instigated.


(Here is an early picture of the happy couple)

Not being a citizen of the UK limits how far I feel I can display my disdain for the monarchy in public. It's not exactly my fight . . . yet. But I still can't help but feeling a little bit greasy in the pit of my stomach providing positive press over "Wills" and "Kate" getting hitched. Let's face it, any coverage of this wedding will be construed as ultimately promoting it. The best thing would be if nobody paid any attention to what this pack of multi-billionaire power broker welfare recipients do.

(Here is just a reminder that Prince Harry, William's little brother and currently 3rd in line to the throne, likes to get drunk and dress like a Nazi)
Well, it will be interesting to see what kind of story I come up with. I feel a little dirty about it but the truth is good intentions do not pay the kid's nursery bill.

Announcing the amazing "Don't Know Prize"!!!

We here at the Emerald City Zen Center are proud to announce the start of the spectacular Don't Know Prize contest. This is your chance to win spectacular A Zen Master In Oz related prizes. All you have to do is follow three simple steps and you will become the pride of your neighborhood. People will envy and lust after you in equal measure. You shall be like a god among men for you shall have obtained a mysterious and highly coveted Don't Know Prize!

How to play:

1. Purchase a copy of A Zen Master In Oz.

2. Email proof of this purchase to kassstone1977@yahoo.com. (put Don't Know Prize in the subject line of the email)

3. Tell us in 30 words or less what "fictional" world you would want to have Captain Pug take you to onboard the Laughing Tortoise.

Terms and conditions: 1. The "Don't Know Prize" is a secret. 2. If you win a "Don't Know Prize" do not tell anyone what it is you have won. 3. The first rule of "Don't Know Prize" is don't talk about "Don't Know Prize". 4. Kass Stone and any other members of the Emerald City Zen City team are not responsible for the emotional state receiving a "Don't Know Prize" may have on a winner. 5. Kass Stone and the Emerald City Zen Center team are not liable for the behaviour of a winner of a "Don't Know Prize". 6. Kass Stone and the Emerald City Zen Center team are not responsible financially or legally for the actions of a "Don't Know Prize" winner after receiving their prize. 7. Any psychological or medical damages suffered by a "Don't Know Prize" winner after receiving the prize are not the financial or legal responsibility of Kass Stone and the Emerald City Zen Center. 8. You enter the "Don't Know Prize" contest at your own risk. 9. You are a big boy or girl, so don't get all whiny if things don't go your way. That's life. Sometimes it meets our expectations and other times it fails to meet them. If you screw up it's all on you. Don't go blaming society, your parents and especially a silly contest you entered on a blog promoting a book. 10. The "Don't Know Prize" contest is open to all sentient species at all ages. Special consideration goes to any great apes that enter the contest without the aid of a trainer or keeper. Extra-special consideration goes to lesser primates who manage to send in an entry. If you are a marmoset and reading this, lets face it, that's amazing. Quickly contact us so we can give you a "Don't Know Prize" and maybe hang out. Do you like pizza? 11. Pizzas will be bought for any lemurs or marmosets that manage to send in an entry.

Cthulu comes to Oz!

There is a formatting problem that has made all of the paragraphs run together and I can't seem to reformat it. Sorry about that! Some more fun with the Public Domain. This time we see H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulu "mythos" mix it up with Baum's Oz.

“Cthulu!” “Gesundheit.” By Kass Stone

The Woggle-Bug strode confidently into the massive library of Locasta, Good Witch of the North. The highly magnified insect had been granted permission by the sorceress to catalog her massive collection of rare books. Accompanying The Woggle-Bug was Tardy Dave, a tall Giliken student assistant of his from the College of Academic Perfection. Woggle-Bug is known as the “Highly Magnified One” because of his name: Professor H. M. Woggle-Bug T.E., which is short for Highly Magnified Woggle Bug Thoroughly Educated! This illustrious insect was not always so magnified. He was once only a common, tiny woggle-bug living in a school house, where the curious little bug absorbed all of the lessons the teacher taught his pupils. One day the teacher was using an overhead projector to demonstrate a concept to the class and the bright little bug leapt on to it and found himself projected hundreds of times over, to the size of a large man, on the class room screen. The Woggle-Bug leapt off and has been highly magnified ever since. Ozma created the University of Artistic and Athletic Perfection, of which he was made dean of, out of appreciation for the role Woggle-Bug played in restoring her to the throne of Oz. Since then he has been a favorite with the Oz royal court. This provides him access to places he would normally not be able to get into. Locasta’s library is one of those places. “Magnificent!” announced the bug. “What a splendid collection of esoteric tomes!” “Er, sure,” said Tardy Dave, examining a ball of wax he just pulled from out of his left ear. “It’s really something, Prof.” “Indeed, my young and perceptive student. Indeed,” announced the bug as he sprang into the air from the doorway and landed on the second floor of the library. Hoping to add even more flourish, Woggle-Bug reached out two of his four hands and blindly pulled a book from off of the shelf. “Here, young man is the first step in this, our grand endeavor,” said the bug, as he glanced at the book’s cover. The volume was bound in what The Woggle-Bug assumed was some kind of leather and held shut by a heavy, black iron clasp. Etched on its cover in a deep crimson was the title, “Necronomicon”. The insect held the heavy tome with all four of his hands. His three antennae twitched with anticipation of diving into a hither-to-unknown work of potentially significant scholarly importance. The student assistant paid no mind. He was busy watching his toes as he wiggled them in his well worn sandals. “Ah, and thus commences another leg of progress’ march ever onwards! Ignorance has received another mortal wound from which it shall never recover and in its place shall emerge a new, enlightened world in which the shadow of superstition and debased perceptions are driven from the land like vermin before a cleansing deluge,” intoned the professor, hugging the book to his chest. Once done with his speech, the Woggle-Bug sprang over the wrought iron railing, sailed down to the ground floor and alighted gracefully alongside Tardy Dave, who was busy chewing a hang nail from off of his right thumb. The bug tossed the heavy book onto a neighboring table with a large BANG that startled the student and caused him to give a surprised squawk. “Did you get that book from up there on the second level?” asked Tardy Dave, who received his name due to the fact that he was always a bit late. “Yes, my pupil, and now we shall peer onto pages that may have not been viewed in centuries!” said the bug in his most pompous voice. Tardy Dave scratched his head full of scraggly, ginger-colored dreadlocks that hung past his waist and shrugged. He liked The Woggle-Bug but could never really understand what he was talking about. He thought it would look best if he just put on an interested expression and put his hands deep into the pockets of his red corduroy pants. The Woggle-Bug looked at his assistant and smiled, with his big, green eyes glittering in the candlelight. The insect nodded his head conspiratorially at his blank faced assistant. He then undid the clasp and flung the book open, causing its pages to fan out and stop at whatever random page fate decreed. “Momentous! Yes, most momentous, my dear David! Oh, how I envy you. To be so young and to enter into such an inquiry on behalf of knowledge! This just may very well be the breeze that fills your sails and sends you forth on an academic odyssey,” said the Woggle-Bug solemnly. Tardy Dave glanced at the book. He did not recognize the language it was written in. No longer interested, the student began stroking his bushy beard and staring out into space over Woggle-Bug’s head. The young scholar did not care much for books. His preferred academic exercises were learning more about his female classmates and organizing parties. This did not worry either the Woggle-Bug or Tardy Dave’s parents, since he was only in his 12th year of college. Most students at the College of Artistic and Athletic Perfection did not even declare a major until their 16th year. Yes, Tardy Dave felt that he was right on track academically. In another 20 years or so he might just be ready to really knuckle down and take his studies seriously. The professor leaned into the book until the antenna on the tip of his nose was bent against its pages. His big eyes shimmered with excitement. “I believe I can translate this script,” said the bug to nobody in particular. “Soon, this grimoire will reveal all of its secrets!” Woggle-Bug cleared his throat before chanting the strange words written in blood red on the brittle pages. Tardy Dave looked over his professor’s shoulder and noticed that one of the pages appeared to have a tattoo on it and the other one had what could be freckles. This reminded the Tardy One that he was due to get a tattoo with his team mates on the college’s hacky-sack team that week. They were all going to get the team’s mascot, an octopus with eight legs kicking a hacky-sack, on the back of their necks. It was going to be awesome. “That will be so awesome,” said a smiling Tardy Dave, but the Woggle-Bug was too caught up in chanting the ancient text to pay his assistant any attention. The words were guttural and strange. They caused Tardy Dave to come out of his tattoo induced reverie and pay attention once more to what his professor was doing. Goose bumps danced over his flesh. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck with each new syllable uttered by The Woggle-Bug. Even his dreadlocks seemed to tremble under their own power as the Magnified One’s chanting grew more passionate and powerful. It reminded Tardy Dave of the time he accompanied the Woggle-Bug to visit Glinda the Good Witch of the South. He mistook a bottle of shrinking potion for the bottle of fizzy radish beer he brought with him for lunch. The very same strange sensation spread across his body as he shrunk down to the size of a common field mouse. To make matters worse, Princess Dorothy Gale was also there visiting with her pink cat. The mean spirited feline chased Tardy Dave throughout Glinda’s palace for over two hours before the good witch was able to find him and restore him to full size. “You know, now that I think about it, I don’t think I like magic all that much,” said Tardy Dave offhandedly. A strange howling sound filled the library. The candles in the chandeliers over head and the sconces on the walls began to flicker, sending long shadows careening across the room. From the center of the library came what sounded like a million sinister voices chuckling and hissing at an obscene joke. Tardy stepped back to avoid the swarm of many limbed flies that were circling the chanting Woggle-Bug. His feet slipped as he stepped into a puddle of green slime that bubbled up from beneath the marble tiles of the floor. The young scholar almost crashed onto the ground but was able to catch himself on the edge of a table covered in maggots the size of an infant munchkin. Lightening flashed from a cloud that had formed overhead and, instead of rain; small squid with beaks full of razor sharp teeth began to bounce off of the furniture and floor. A suit of armor standing next to the stairwell leading up to the other four levels of the library began to scream with wild laughter and then exploded, sending pieces of its self everywhere. This is when it dawned on Tardy Dave that something was wrong! “I don’t think those big maggot things should be in the library, prof,” said Tardy Dave, as he watched a fly brandishing a scorpion’s tail harass a three-headed beetle with tentacles instead of legs. Tardy-Dave let out a yelp. One of the malevolent squid that were raining down on them had sunk its teeth into the student’s right big toe. He hopped about on his left foot, while slapping at the squid. The cephalopod only bit harder and wrapped its tentacles around Dave’s corduroy clad leg. He hopped over to book shelf and pulled down a heavy tome titled “Great Munchkin Poets: The Pastoria Years” and began slamming it down on the vicious squid. After a couple of hard blows, the squid exploded like a balloon filled with custard. Tardy-Dave’s lower half was covered in yellow slime and pink squid bits. It dawned on him that he probably should not have worn sandals on this trip. “This isn’t cool, right, prof? I’ve never seen anything like this before, have you? Does Locasta usually have these kinds of pest problems? I mean, if so, she might want to get it cleared up. I don’t think this is sanitary, man,” said Tardy Dave, but it fell on deaf ears. The words written down in the book by its author, “The Mad Arab” Abdul Alhazred, put the most intelligent insect in Oz into a spell that made it impossible for him to stop chanting the vile language of the Necronomicon. As he chanted, the Woggle-Bug’s antennae on his head and nose twitched with each syllable, as if they were broadcasting the meaning of the book’s dark text. A fetid yellow light pulsed in his eyes and a greasy film coated the bug’s usually gleaming exoskeleton. “Ph’nglwi mgla nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn!” the insect screamed as he came to the end of the passage that had possessed him. The yellow light dimmed from Woggle-Bug’s eyes and their usual emerald glint was restored. His exoskeleton regained its reflective shine and his antennae ceased twitching. The magnified one looked around confused and stammered wordlessly for several seconds. Just as he was about to speak, a sound like a gash being torn in the flesh of a gigantic animal filled the library. “Zounds! I was rendered little more than a marionette from some indecent puppeteer working from the stygian depths of an accursed realm!” wailed Woggle-Bug over the wet, tearing sound. The disgusting sound indicated the formation of a great gaping hole in space in the center of the room. Escaping from the hole was a stench unlike any the two had ever experienced in their lives. The odious fumes brought tears to their eyes and gags to their throats. “Egad!” shouted The Woggle-Bug. “That is the essence of putrescent!” “Yeah, do you see that hole there?” asked Tardy Dave. “I really think something ain’t right!” An awful groaning emerged from the hole, followed by a sea of glistening, cruel eyes. An army of beings with bodies like large apes, but covered in green, flabby flesh unlike any ever seen in Oz, were walking menacingly towards Tardy and The Woggle-Bug from out of the hole. The creatures’ thick limbs ended in webbed hands and feet that were accented by fierce, curling claws. Around their drooling maws were bunches of writhing tentacles that whipped about below their red, globular eyes. On the monsters’ backs hung large, bat-like wings that stretched and preened with every step as they chanted “Cthulhu” over and over in thick, slimy voices. “Oh, those must be the cthulhi,” said the Woggle-Bug, matter-of-factly. “The what?” asked Tardy Dave. “Dear lad, were you not paying attention? I was summoning the dark lord Cthulhu to Oz. Though, why I would do such a thing, I have not the foggiest notion,” lectured the bug. “Likewise, I have no clue how I have come to posses such knowledge!” “Oh, yeah, man! You were reading that book!” exclaimed Tardy Dave, as if he had just deduced the answer to a great riddle. “That accursed grimoire must have compelled me to act in such a traitorous manner! Oh, what have I wrought?” bellowed the insect. Tardy Dave was about to ask him what a cthulhi was, when he was yanked by the arm and suspended in the air by one of the creatures. Tardy stared into the strange, malevolent eyes and winced. “Ugh, your breath is awful!” moaned Tardy Dave. “Dude, that is so rank! You have to eat a mint or something!” The scholar then gave a surprised yelp as he fell and hit the floor. The Woggle-Bug had punched the monster in the head, sending the beast flying across the room and into a book shelf, resulting in the creature dropping Tardy Dave in the process. “Up, lad, we must find Locasta and let her know what a monumental SNAFU has been committed in furthering Ozian scholarship,” said The Woggle-Bug as he grabbed Tardy Dave by the arm and drug him towards the exit. “That monster thing was really strong,” said Tardy-Dave as he was whisked off by his teacher. “Yes, he commands an impressive brute strength, but he was no match for my pugilistic proficiency,” bragged the bug. Tardy’s attention was not with his professor or the throng of tentacle-faced monsters. His eyes were focused on the ever widening portal and the gigantic shape form ancient evil that was Cthulhu being revealed on the other side. The master of the cthulhi looked exactly like his minions but standing hundreds of feet tall and thus hundreds of times more frightening. “That’s a big guy,” noted Tardy Dave. “These winged mollusk-men and their master will destroy all of Oz. We must do something posthaste!” shouted Woggle-Bug, over the roars issuing from Cthulhu and the chanting of his demonic minions. “Halt!” announced a woman’s voice that cut through the grotesque, maddening babble. Standing in the doorway of the library was Locasta. Her white hair blew wildly around her head in the putrid wind pouring in from Cthulhu’s world. She gripped a wand in one hand and held a small, white rabbit to her chest with the other. The sorceress’ blue dress billowed about her, sparkling as if beads of ice were woven into the fabric. She stood in stark contrast to corruption and unwholesomeness of Cthulhu’s world. “Oh, Locasta!” stammered the bug. “We were just enroute to inform you of this most distressing situation.” The witch paid no attention to the Magnified One. She looked past him and through the throng of chthuli into the entrance into their world, where their titanic master waited. The sound of evil laughter rolled through from the world of the monsters like thunder. It was the sound of pure corruption and made Tardy Dave and Woggle-Bug sick to their stomachs. Locasta did not flinch. “Cthulhu, I cannot let your vile presence taint Oz!” shouted the good witch. “Just as I defeated you before, I shall do so again!” The witch tossed the rabbit into the air and it landed in the midst of the throng of cthulhi, transformed into an elephant-sized beast-that attacked the creatures with its gigantic teeth and razor sharp claws. “We must rally to the defense of our fair land!” cried the Magnified One. The Woggle-Bug grabbed a pair of broken chairs in both pairs of his arms and began beating back the retreating beasts. Together, the professor and rabbit’s onslaught herded the cthulhi into the center of the room. “Battle onward, my stout hearted lupine crusader! We are stymieing this demonic host!” called out the Woggle-Bug to the rabbit. Once the cthulhi were localized, the pair began forcing them into the hole from which they emerged. While the bug and rabbit were taking care of the minons, Locasta set to work chanting a spell to defeat their master. Beads of sweat formed on the witch’s grandmotherly face as she matched her powers against those of the dreadful dark god. Locasta fell to one knee and clenched her face in agony. Cthulhu’s nausea inducing laugh filled the room, causing Tardy Dave to retch and grow dizzy behind the large wall tapestry he hid behind. The benign countenance that Locasta typically wore fell away. She appeared now as a sunken cheeked, feeble old woman. She felt rivulets of fire snaking through her bones. Locasta’s vision blurred and her hearing diminished. Every pore on her flesh felt as though steam were rising from out of it. She could feel the dark god’s clawed hands clenching her mind and filling her thoughts with images of misery. Starving children and dead soldiers! Disease covered animals bleating as they died in mass graves! Ozma and the heroes of Oz mutilated! Locasta saw things so disgusting and evil that tears came to her eyes. The beastly creature chuckled as he felt her spirits weaken. Realizing that the horror she was battling gained a greater edge with every ounce of sorrow she felt, Locasta reached deep inside herself to find the strength to silence Cthulhu’s voice. The demon was shocked momentarily by Locasta’s strength of will. His attack slowed and this bought the witch the time for one last gambit to prevent the unspeakable evil and decay represented by Cthulhu from entering Oz. She endeavored to tap into the very faerie enchantment that made Oz the mystical and beautiful place it is. Locasta focused on the uncanny energies flowing through the land that was the basis of the country’s enchanted nature, all the while creating ever weakening defenses to hold Cthulhu at bay. While Glinda the Good Witch of the South is renowned across the world, the Good Witch of the North is a much less discussed figure. Many people just assume that she is the magical inferior to Glinda and stayed out of the limelight in deference to a more superior witch. This is far from the truth. Locasta is a much older sorceress with an incredibly deep knowledge of magic, dating back to the very creation of Oz by Lurline, the Faerie Queen. She just preferred to pursue her work out of the public eye. Proof of this lies in the fact that in spite of the punishing deluge of evil, corrupted magic Cthulhu pummeled her with, the Good Witch of the North remained focused in her effort to tap Oz’s ancient enchantment. Cthulhu pushed back with all of his might to tear down the witch’s magical barricades. Her mind searched deep into the physical and metaphysical aspects of Oz. All of its history unfurled behind her eyes while she pushed herself to maintain her defenses against the evil incarnate she was engaged in combat with. Then, like a shooting star falling from a pitch black sky, the current of magical energies that maintained Oz as a faerie country reached out to her. Locasta felt her mind stretch out to touch the current. Upon contact, they become one. Locasta received a burst of magical energy that caused her brain to burn with white flame. Images of all of the great wizards and witches of Oz’s past, present and future filled her being. Little shards of all of their magic combined with her own abilities. Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue and her old, creased face became livid with color. “You shall not have Oz!” announced the good witch, causing a great fresh wind to sweep through the library, which triggered Cthulhu’s gateway to close. Cthulhu roared with surprise and anger. He had just been defeated by an old woman from a faerie tale world. Never had the ancient, evil entity known such a humiliating defeat. Locasta had once managed to defeat his minions when she was much younger and had an entire magical army supporting her. This time she managed to better Cthulhu himself with only the assistance of an overgrown insect and rabbit. The being of un-nameable evil roared once again in petulant anger as his gateway closed and the things of his world were forced back from where they came. “Huzzah! The plans of Cthulu have proven vainglorious and futile! Oz is saved!” cheered the bug over the noise of the maelstrom forming about the doorway between the two worlds. The wind rushed into the closing portal as if a tornado was let loose in the library. It created a swirling vortex of cthulhi, giant maggots, bizarre insects and slime. Tardy Dave was lifted off of his feet and sent flying towards the whirl of unwholesomeness leading to Cthulhu’s twisted reality. Seeing his student assistant flying past, Woggle-Bug quickly reached out with two of his arms and caught Tardy Dave by the dreadlocks. The student flapped in the wind like a flag, while his professor used his legs and remaining arms to cling onto a pillar that lead to the library’s magnificent domed ceiling. The giant rabbit dug its claws deep into the marble tile to prevent being drawn into the vortex. The power of the maelstrom was so strong that it dragged the rabbit several feet towards it. The heroic lupine left deep claw marks in the marble floor as it fought being drawn into the nightmare universe of Cthulhu. The thundering, gurgling protestations of mighty Cthulhu echoed through the room, sending a greasy, metallic taste across everyone’s tongues. The protests grew in intensity the more the doorway into his world shut. When the hole in space became no bigger than the head of a pencil, the cries and howling wind stopped, sending Tardy Dave slamming into the floor, which in turn pulled the Woggle-Bug, still grasping Tardy’s dreadlocks, on top of him. The Woggle-Bug quickly leapt off Tardy Dave and began to inspect the scholar for any injuries. “My word, young David, what a heroic figure you cut in this conflict between the forces of good and the forces of evil,” said the Woggle-Bug admiringly. “Oh, wow,” said Tardy Dave, as he rolled to his back and rubbed his nose. “Did you see how big that rabbit got?” “Woggle-Bug,” called Locasta, in a very frustrated tone. “What in the name of all that is good in Oz did you do? Why did you think tampering with such a book was a good idea? I told you to stay away from the second floor.” “My dear madam, it was all in the name of academic pursuit and expanding the boundaries of what we know about both the physical and metaphysical worlds . . .,” began the bug, but he was cut off by a stern glance from the witch. An awkward silence fell over the now completely disorganized library. Locasta tapped her foot in disappointment with the Magnified One. The Woggle-Bug twitched his antennae as he thought of some way to put a positive spin on what just happened. The silence had Tardy Dave entranced. He watched the witch and professor with his mouth hanging open, unsure of what exactly was happening. The silence may have lasted days if it were not for the sound of someone crying. A muffled sobbing came from behind one of the book shelves. Locasta, carrying the once again tiny rabbit, led Tardy Dave and the Woggle-Bug to the source of the mournful noise. The party was shocked to discover a cthulhi weeping into his slimy, flabby hands. “Are you injured?” inquired Locasta. The hulking thing just shook its head. “Urk! Hyunk jiapxil. . . Uyioloont-ilx-opuqiz . . . ,” said the cthulhi, looking at the Ozites with as much of a pleading look as its kind could muster. “Hey, that monster thing is crying!” exclaimed Tardy Dave. “. . . Urk! Um . . . Urkel . . . Zaphod . . . Um . . . Hello,” managed the cthulhi in a very pleasant, masculine voice. “I’m sorry. It takes me a few seconds to learn a new language. Please do not be afraid of me. I am not like the others! Please don’t send me back home with the rest of them! If you do, I will be killed and fed to my brothers and sisters. They would say I’m a coward and traitor for staying behind! I do not want to be fed to my brothers and sisters!” “Why should we trust you?” asked the Woggle-Bug. “You are the servant of a Lord of Darkness . . . not to demonize you!” The Woggle-Bug looked at Locasta for recognition of his pun. All he got in return was the witch rolling her eyes. “What is your name,” asked Locasta gently. “You would not be able to pronounce it. It would sort of sound like, ‘Floid-aphla-lox-to-motox-plig . . .,” “Oh, that’s alright,” said Locasta. “I will call you Floyd.” “Yes, Madam,” said Floyd. “That is a very good name.” “Indeed, a most apt moniker for one such as you. The name Floyd is of Welsh derivation, meaning “one with gray hair”, if I remember my Welsh, which I’m quite sure I do. Gray-hair indicates a wizened, respected person on whom the . . .,” began the Woggle-Bug before being cut off by the sound of Locasta clearing her throat “Tell me, Floyd, how can I trust you not to cause any harm here in Oz?” asked the good witch in a very grandmotherly tone. Floyd ran his fingers through his mouth tentacles and sighed. “The truth is that I hid from the rest of my family as soon as we arrived. Don’t you see? I stayed behind on purpose. Home is a terrible place! It’s always about eating a brother or sister and then preparing to attack another world in the name of our master. It’s not a lifestyle for me! I spy on other worlds and dream of living in a place not devoted to pestilence and corruption. It’s the sound of birds chirping in the morning I want, not the screams of the tortured and the awful shriek of the damned. I want a pet cat and to have friends over for tea. I dream of being able to have a nice vegetable garden and not have to survive on the spoils of conquest. You can’t even get vegetables where I come from! All we ever get is our rent apart siblings or the crushed remains of our master’s enemies. I want to be a vegetarian! I dream of tasting an avocado or peeling a banana! I hate being the blood thirsty minion of evil personified. Please, let me stay!” beseeched Floyd. “Well, that is entirely up to Princess Ozma. She is the one that has final say on which outsiders can call Oz home. However, if you are honest about your desires and intentions, I’m sure Ozma will let you stay as long as you will be of some benefit to the rest of Oz’s citizens. I can help you with that since I can provide a job for you here in my palace,” said the witch. “I have need of a gardener’s assistant, but first you have to clean this mess you and your family made in my library.” “Oh, thank you, Madam! Thank you!” said Floyd as he fell to his knees and grabbed Locasta’s hand, which he covered in tentacle filled kisses. An obviously uncomfortable Locasta, gently took her hand back, thanked Floyd and helped him to his big webbed feet. “Whoa, that green guy can speak our language!” announced a truly amazed Tardy Dave. “How, very benevolent of you,” said Woggle-Bug to Locasta, choosing to ignore his assistant. “I will retire to my quarters now in order to record today’s most bizarre events in my journal for posterity.” “Oh, I think that can wait,” said Locasta. “You need to clean up your mess as well, bug. You and young Tardy Dave will assist Floyd in putting my library back in order.” With a snap of her finger, three sets of brooms, mops and other cleaning supplies appeared before Floyd, Tardy Dave and Woggle-Bug. Without glancing back at her new cleaning crew, Locasta strode out the library, slammingthe doors behind her. “What a wonderful woman,” sighed Floyd. “I never thought I’d be so lucky as to have the chance to dust and mop. It’s going to be a joy being able to tidy up! No more slime filled grottos for me!” “Ha! What audacity! Me, the most magnified intelligence in all of Oz reduced to a mere custodian! Oh, the shame!” moaned Woggle-Bug. “This is an outrage. If it were not for my respect for all Locasta has done for Oz, I would walk off of this lowly assignment as quick as Mercury chasing a comet!” Tardy Dave turned around and smiled into the big, goggle-like eyes of his professor. “You know,” said Tardy Dave. “I think she wants us to clean this place up.”

The Magic Cloak of Oz - Part 1

Another Baum produced silen Oz movie.
Maybe one day A Zen Master In Oz will become a movie. The only way to make that happen is to get a ton of books sold. So, why don't you do your part for culture and buy a copy?

Why Oz Is Much Cooler Than Narnia.

On the surface, L. Frank Baum's Oz and C.S. Lewis' Narnia series appear to be rather similiar. Both deal with young, earth dwelling children being transported to magical realms where they have exciting adventures with the natives. If you take a closer look you will discover that the Narnia books are rather creepy. They are full of anti-modern, close minded, religious propaganda. Baum's 14 Oz books on the other hand, are stories about the importance of acceptance, diversity camraderie. Here are some reasons why Lewis' Narnia books are genuinely loathesome, along with why Oz is much more wholesome in comparison.
1. Sexism: C.S. Lewis, at least when he was writing his Narnia series, had a pretty dim view of what women were capable of. This sexist, though not uncommon view for a man of his era, is made more disturbing by his very obvious discomfort with female sexuality. Grown women are not to be trusted in the universe of the Narnia saga. Little Lucy Penvensie is the ideal "Christian" in the series but that's because she has not yet developed sexually. When her sister, Susan discovers her sexuality and begins wearing makeup and going out with boys, she is deemed not capable of coming to Aslan's world. She is banned from paradise for following her natural and essential biological urges! Let me add!!!! Likewise, look the grown women that are present in Narnia. The two most prominent are Jadis - The White Witch and The Lady of the Green Kirtle, both of them are evil witches representing Satan, the ultimate evil. So, when we meet grown women in Narnia they are all unworthy of Aslan's grace.
In Oz, on the otherhand, Baum provides us with a huge list of capable, independent and powerful female characters. In fact, Oz is almost entirely operated and protected by powerful, strong women. This list includes Dorothy, Glinda, The Goood Witch of the South and Ozma.
2. Racism: Lewis' Narnia books are racist and imply a racial hierarchy. To begin with, Narnia is very much an idealized England in which there are not racial minorities. It is a white country for white people and thier magical friends who also either appear to be white or at least act like proper white English folk. This is also very similiar to Lewis' close pal and fellow inkling, J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle Earth (for more on this check out Michael Moorcock's excellent essay Epic Pooh). The races living outside of Narnia are depicted as brutal, thuggish and ethnic. The Telmarines are obviously meant to be a sea-faring, Medittereanean people. Much to swarthy for Mr. Lewis' taste. They are brutal and cruel, but are capable of being redeemed by the much more enlightened White-British Narnians. The Calormen are depicted as dark skinned, Arabic people who worship a demon, participate in human sacrifices and are in constant warfare with the rest of the world. They are described in the worst kind of stereotypical terms for an Arab person and are even less capable of being "saved". They are obviously well below the swarthy Telmarines, who in turn are quite a few steps down the ladder from the very English and White Narnia.
Oz is depicted as a land of great racial diversity. While these races do not directly correspond to real world racial groups, Baum's depiction of diversity and the need to accept it is a far cry from Lewis' racial hierarchy. All of the race's in Oz are valued for what they can offer and are worthy of respect from the rest of the land's citizens. Even people and creatures from other lands are welcomed and treated with respect. Oz accepts everyone and does not require you to convert to its religion, unlike another magical land we know.
3.Holy War: In the Narnia Chronicles, C.S. Lewis makes it clear that war in the name of God/Jesus/Aslan is not only acceptible but essential. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Penvensie children are brought to Narnia in order to lead a holy war against the anti-Aslan (A.K.A. evil) forces of the White Witch. Santa Claus even shows up and hands out weapons for the children to kill with! Father Christmas is their arms supplier. The message to young readers is very clear - in order to preserve the faith it is sometimes neccessary to kill and even wage war. Very creepy. Creepier yet is the jihad-like aspect Lewis gives the war between the Narnians and the Telmarines in Prince Caspian. In a letter Lewis wrote a young fan, he stated that the book was about restoring the true faith. The method through which this is accomplished is war. Sounds a lot like some terrorist leader urging his followers on.
In Baum's Oz there is no organized religion. We learn that a faerie queen created the enchantment that transformed Oz in a faerie land, but that's it. On top of it, the rulers of Oz often search for non-violent answers to their problems. This is quite different from Santa handing out swords meant to cleave a "non-believer's" head in two.
4. Anti-Modernism: C.S. Lewis hated modernity. He thought it was souless and destructive. It was like a plight across the Western World that was replacing God with science and dehumanizing mankind. His disdain for modernity is readily apparent throughout the Narnia books. Susan's sexuality is associated with "lip stick and nylons", very 20th Century kinds of things for a young woman to be wearing. Lewis' disdain for the modern is most viruently demonstrated in the finale of his "Space Trilogy" - That Hideous Strength, in which modern art, architecture, science etc. are depicted as tools of the Devil looking to break mankind's will and use reason to cause people to cease believing in God. This view is expressed by Lewis in his handling of modern women (ie. Susan) and education. In The Silver Chair, Lewis attacks modern education theories and techniques in the form of Experiment House, a modern school where the Pevensies' cousin Eustace and his pal, Jill, attend. Experiment House allows children to learn through exploration and, OMG!, there is no religious education. The school is depicted as a terrible place with ineffective teachers and horrible bullying students. Of course, Lewis meant education in the doctrines of the Church of England and not some kind of comparative relgion course.
In Oz the modern world is reflected in the roles women play, technology and general attitudes towards the world. Baum, a feminist and son-in-law of a major feminist figure, allowed his work to disply his progressive views on women's rights. Likewise, his approach to racial diversity is quite modern compared to Lewis' hierarchy of races. Technology also exists in Oz and is just as much a source of wonder as any kind of magic. The greatest example of this is Tik-Tok the clockwork robot. Technology is not a thing to fear but is something that is capable of making the world a much more interesting and exciting place. Reason and the scientific method are promoted often in Baum's Oz books. While he often took shots at academia, Baum also obviously valued the importance of critical thinking, reason and scientific inquiry. Again and again, the characters in the Oz books have to rely on empirical reasoning to find their way out of the troubles they always end up in. Lewis on the other hand promotes blind faith throughout the Narnia books. The Pevensie children and their Narnian allies are expected to constantly just have faith in Aslan and not to question. In fact, questioning is a bad thing. Just accept what your religion/authority figure tells you to do and shut up! Questions and reason are for those that don't get to cuddle up with Aslan for eternity.

The difference between the two series is that Baum was a man who embraced modernity and viewed the world through more egalitarian eyes than the patriarchial, fundamentalist Christian Lewis. One was presenting a modern faerie tale and the other was creating heavy handed religous propaganda designed to help make children good little Christian soldiers. One had a more universal view of the world and the other had a very narrow one in which his culture and religion were the only true ones and that everything else at best paled in comparison and at worst were false, empty and destructive. These personality traits shaped the fictional universes they are most famous for. Unfortunately, Lewis' Narnia is built solidly on its creators bigoted, fundamentalist hangups

Jenny Everywhere In Oz - edited version

Jenny Everywhere In Oz
By
Kass Stone
The character of Jenny Everywhere is available for use by anyone, with only one condition. This paragraph must be included in any publication involving Jenny Everywhere, in order that others may use this property as they wish. All rights reversed.

The big semi-truck slid sideways up the highway with its breaks and tires screeching. The vehicle became a blur of moving parts and noise before taking the form of a three- story tall robot. Jenny pulled herself off of the pavement and ran between the feet of the mechanical, alien warrior just as its arch-nemesis came crashing down from the air. Where Jenny once stood was now another giant, extraterrestrial robotic warrior. The newcomer let out a metallic laugh and shot the semi-truck android in the chest with a blast from its laser cannon.
“This is not as fun as it looked on TV,” grumbled Jenny as she closed her eyes and focused on the pulsating rhythms of the multiverse.
A robot soldier/VW Bug exploded into a million pieces just a few yards to Jenny’s right. Chunks of smoldering metal and rubber rained down. A gateway appeared in Jenny’s mind and she focused. A flaming tire came hurtling down towards her. The gateway opened and Jenny “shifted” through it.
***
Sparks rained down as Jenny shifted into the new reality. A spark fell between the folds of her scarf. She screamed and slapped at the burn, hoping to prevent the scarf from going up in flames. Red laser beams flew overhead. She fell to her stomach, pulled the aviator goggles from on top of her head and snapped them over her eyes.
More soldiers! This time dressed in white and black body armor. The white soldiers fired large laser rifles and appeared to make steady progress up the corridor they were fighting in. Jenny rolled out of the way and pressed herself up against the metal wall. A panel just above her head flashed instructions in an alien language.
Coming up the opposite end of the corridor were skinny, bird-like robots firing away with their own large laser rifles.
“Ugh, more gun loving robots,” groaned Jenny and immediately began focusing on new pathways.
Green and red lasers filled the air. Every now and then the zapping, shrieking sounds of the guns would be punctuated by a scream. Another doorway opened up and she went through.

***
Jenny ran her fingers through her short, spiky hair and sighed. She slipped the goggles back to their place atop her head and wiped the sweat from her brow.
“I’ve got to start picking better universes to visit. I’m tired of all this gunplay,” mumbled Jenny as she pulled herself off of the packed dirt floor.
A quick examination of her surroundings confirmed that the room she was in was part of a series of caverns. On the walls hung heavy tapestries depicting witches and wizards huddled over cauldrons, summoning demons and all sorts of other magical business. There were bookshelves creaking under the weight of thick, heavy tomes. Tables laden with gurgling vials and mysterious looking jars cluttered the place while a black cauldron hung in a rough hewn fireplace.
On the far side of the room was a large aquarium filled with blue tinged water. Swimming back and forth in the tank was a big, pink brain. The brain propelled itself by moving the stem hanging from its base back and forth like a fish’s tail.
Jenny walked over to the tank and tapped on the glass with a rough, chipped fingernail. The brain darted away from her side of the tank. She examined the nails on her hands. The black fingernail polish she put on back when she was visiting the Green Lama had almost completely vanished.
“See something you like?,” asked a hissing voice from behind her.
Jenny made to turn in order to face the speaker but a hard blow to the side of her head sent the Shifter unconscious to the floor.

A strange sensation brought Jenny to. A rough, wet tongue was licking her knee through the hole in her black tights. She opened her eyes and saw that the tongue belonged to a large, frightening looking beast with the head of a tiger and body of a bear. Jenny was suspended above the floor in a cramped metal cage and the animal was standing on its hind legs to reach her.
“Are you making friends or are you hungry?,” the girl asked the animal.
A chorus of growls from a half dozen other tiger-headed, bear-bodied creatures answered the question for her. Jenny tried to raise herself up but was stuck in a kneeling, bent over position due to the tight dimensions of the pen she was trapped in.
The big animals circled below her. They were obviously looking forward to devouring her. It also sounded as if they were laughing.
“Hey, do you guys talk,” Jenny asked the creatures. “It’s no big deal. I’ve met plenty of talking animals in my travels.”
The largest of the animals quickly sat on his haunches and cleared his throat.
“Yes, we do talk and yes, we are planning on eating you,” the creature said. “We are the Crrrowwll Pack of Kalidahs in the service of the great liberator Mogo of the Southeast!”
“Kalidahs! You’re kalidahs,” Jenny shouted with sudden recognition. “This must be Oz! I love Oz. I was hoping I’d land here eventually.”
The kalidahs starred at her with blank eyes. The silence was broken by a hissing scream.
“Do not eat her yet! I need her. She is full of strange magic,” said a very tall blue skinned woman dressed in traditional witch garb of black frock dress, thick soled boots with narrow toes and tall, pointy black hat.
The woman would have been beautiful if not for the fact that she was missing a nose. She had only a pair of nostril slits which flared with rage as she stood in the entrance to the room. Orange eyes glared out from her face while a green tongue ran across thin, purple lips.
“Magic? What are you talking about, lady?,” demanded Jenny.
“Oh, you can’t hide your magic from me. I am Lady Mogo, the greatest sorceress in Oz. I studied under the Wicked Witch of the East herself and have spent the past decades in hiding, practicing my art and waiting to spring my vengeance on Glinda, Ozma and all of their allies,” said the witch.
“Look,” said Jenny, “I think it’s really cute and all. Really, I do. This out for vengeance plot with your cartoon animal goons and secret hideout is quite charming. It really is. The problem is that you guys never get away with this kind of thing and on top of that you are obviously stupid. What I’m capable of has nothing to do with magic.”
A rattling, shuttering sound, like old bones being blown across the desert, arose from Mogo. The kalidahs backed away and out of the room. The witch began trembling and streams of green and violet energy coursed about her hands.
Jenny began rocking the cage back and forth, causing it to swing on its chain. Mogo threw a crackling ball of energy at Jenny just as the cage reared away from the witch. The energy ball severed the chain. The cage crashed to the floor and Jenny was expelled through the locked door and out onto the packed dirt floor.
The Shifter bolted for the entrance. The witch chased after. Jenny reached into a hip pocket of her cargo skirt and pulled out a large, yellow egg. She tossed the egg in Mogo’s path as if it were a hand grenade. The egg split open and a long, writhing feline-headed dragon came exploding out of it.
Cat-Faced Dragons are hatched full size and furious. The gold and blue monster sprayed orange and yellow flames at Mogo. A shield materialized in the witch’s hand. Flames flicked along the edges of the shield and singed her fingers. The sorceress promised herself that she would personally choke the life out of Jenny with her bare hands.

Jenny ran as fast as she could out of the cave and through the thick wilderness waiting outside. Soon the sound of her Doc Martins pounding on the forest floor was louder than the battle between the witch and dragon.
She had the ability to shift out this reality when she felt like it, but the opportunity to save Oz from an actual wicked witch was too much for Jenny to resist. The idea that just around the next tree could be the Tin Woodwan or Scarecrow motivated her to run even when it felt as if her heart was about to burst in her chest.
After nearly twenty minutes of running, a road appeared. Jenny stopped at the roadside and struggled to regain her breath. Little dots of light floated in her vision as her heartbeat slowed and her lungs quit struggling. With her heart beat no longer sounding like a bass drum in her head, Jenny was able to hear the clop-clopping sound coming her way down the brick paved road.
What came trotting up the road made Jenny clap her hands in excitement. It was the Saw-Horse and riding on top of the roughly made wooden horse was none other than Jack Pumpkinhead himself. The stick man with the jack-o-lantern head waved at the beaming Jenny and The Saw-Horse came to a stop along side of her.
“Hello, stranger,” said Jack. “My pumpkin is getting kind of soft, but you look like you are not from around here.”
Jenny laughed and wrapped her arms around the Saw-Horse’s neck.
“Pretty friendly where you come from, eh?,” asked the Saw-Horse.
“You have to forgive me,” giggled a slightly star-struck Shifter. “My name is Jenny Everywhere. I’m from . . .”
“America,” interrupted Jack. “You sound a lot like Dorothy does and she is from America, though you don’t exactly look like her. You kind of resemble the Chinese people in the picture books of the rest of the world Dorothy has but you also look kind of like the Indians from America in the other book Dorothy showed me. Are you an Indian, Chinese or something else?”
“Yep,” said Jenny with a smile. “I can also travel from one world to the next just by thinking about it. I landed here in Oz at the lair of a wicked witch plotting to overthrow Ozma. We need to warn her and fast!”
“Well, if you want fast I can manage to go just as fast as you want,” said the Saw-Horse, with an obvious sense of pride. “Since I’m not made out of living stuff and just old wood, I never get tired. I might split a leg from time to time but nothing serious.”
“Great,” said Jenny, “but I have to ask you one quick favor before we go.”
Jenny pulled out her cell phone and told the pair to say cheese. This was no problem for Jack, since he always had a smile carved into his face. The Saw-Horse had only a rough gash for a mouth but managed to make his knotty eyes appear full of good humor. Once the picture was taken, Jenny hopped behind Jack on the wooden equine’s back. The Saw-Horse reared up on his back legs and then dashed off with a mighty leap. The girl could not contain her laughter as the Land of Oz whizzed past.
Just as Jenny and her new friends disappeared into the woods, Mogo emerged driving a chariot pulled by a team of a dozen kalidahs. The animals are excellent trackers and immediately picked up on Jenny’s scent. The witch snapped a long whip over their heads and sent the train of beasts racing after her.

After little more than an hour, the Saw-Horse came to a sudden halt, causing Jack to fly over his head and into a small pond. Jenny leapt off the horse’s back and helped Jack out of the pond. After she was certain he was once more steady on his feet, Jenny looked around her surroundings and discovered that they were in front of a large pink palace guarded by a large retinue of women soldiers.
“This is Glinda’s palace,” said the Saw-Horse. “She will know what to do when it comes to a wicked witch.”
Just as the Saw-Horse said this, the gates of the palace opened and at the head of a double row of gorgeous lady soldiers was a beautiful young woman. She had sparkling blue eyes, long red hair that fell about her shoulders in ringlets and wore a flowing, pink dress. This was Glinda, the Good Witch of the South.
“Greetings, Jenny Everywhere,” said Glinda. “I have been expecting you.”
“Really,” said a surprised Jenny. “You knew we were coming?”
“Oh, you have read all of the books Mr. Baum wrote about our faerie country. You should be quite aware that I have the Great Book of Records in my possession, which tells me everything that happens in Oz as soon as it occurs. Now, my precious Ms. Everywhere, we need to wait for Lady Mogo to appear. After she has been taken care of, we will have more time to chat,” said Glinda in a gentle, soothing voice.
Standing next to the beautiful and regal Glinda made Jenny feel under dressed in green boots, torn black tights, khaki cargo skirt, Ramones t-shirt and green hoodie. Just as she was about to comment on Glinda’s dress, Jack gave out a wail.
“Oh, no,” the pumpkin headed fellow shouted, pointing towards the road leading to Glinda’s palace.
Mogo was rushing towards the gate, snapping at the kalidahs with her whip and shouting at them to move faster. Glinda’s soldiers quickly formed a wall and thrust out their spears. The witch urged the team to go even faster. Just as the kalidahs were about to smash through the women, the soldiers parted and Mogo’s chariot rocketed straight into the palace.
As the chariot rushed past her, a claw-like lantern holder on its side caught hold of Jenny’s scarf. She was yanked off of her feet and flew through the air tethered to the chariot. Mogo looked over her shoulder and began to cackle madly. This caused her to not notice her team rushing into the great glowing square in the grand foyer of the palace.
The world around them went a dark blue. The Kalidahs stopped suddenly, causing the team to crash into each other, which sent the chariot sailing into the air. Jenny’s scarf pulled free from the chariot and she fell with a teeth rattling jolt on her behind. The chariot crashed and Mogo was tossed from it. The witch landed on top of the pile of groaning kalidahs.
Jenny rose unsteadily to her feet and saw numerous heavy, wooden doors materializing in the air above her. Mogo also made it to her feet and had transformed her hands into scaly talons with long, curling black claws. A pair of bat wings sprung from the center of her back and she flew at Jenny with her talons slashing violently through the air.
“You are going to die for forcing me to confront Glinda too soon,” squawked the witch.
Jenny braced herself and went into her best fighting stance. Her heart was racing but she could also not believe her luck to be facing down a witch in Oz. A ball of scintillating white energy slammed into Mogo’s side. The sorceress crashed into one of the room’s radiating blue walls with terrible force.
“Just in time, I would say, eh girls? What do you think, Mogo?,” asked a familiar voice from over head.
Jenny turned to look and was surprised to see that out all the doors that had materialized in the room emerged a different Glinda. They were all beautiful and all different. There were old, matronly Glindas and spunky teenaged Glindas. A fox-person Glinda floated on a magic carpet and a Black Glinda had a wreath of crystal spheres floating around her head. A morbidly obese Glinda sat in a winged throne that flew in great circles around the room.
Mogo rose to her feet. She was restored to her original appearance and had a look of complete terror on her face. She was surrounded by dozens of Glindas. Her team of kalidahs huddled together for a quick conference and then sped out of the strange blue space as fast as their tired legs could propel them. Mogo was alone.
“What kind of sorcery is this?,” demanded Mogo.
“You obviously are not used to dealing with the multiverse, are you?,” teased Jenny.
“Oh, don’t pick on the poor girl for having an incomplete education,” said the Glinda that greeted Jenny, Jack and the Saw-Horse when they first arrived.
“I was taught by the greatest witch in Oz,” protested Mogo, which caused all of the Glindas to twitter with laughter.
“Oh, you poor, delusional thing. You never got to the most important aspect of an education in our craft–the true nature of everything. It’s what makes all of what we call magic possible,” said a beaming Glinda-Prime, as Jenny now thought of her.
“This is insanity,” yelled Mogo, who now had tears in her eyes.
“No, this is the Legion of Glindas. We represent Glindas from across every reality and work from out of our Possibility Boxes to lend each other a hand,” said Glinda just as a pair of Glindas, one with a beard and one with a set of curling rams horns, brought a door on to the floor.
The door opened and out stepped a bent over, green skinned old witch dressed in the same costume as Mogo.
“Mistress,” shouted Mogo, who ran to the old hag and wrapped her in an embrace.
“Technically, not yet. In my reality, the witches known as wicked are the heroes fighting against the evil Wizard and his minions. My student, also named Mogo, was eaten by the Ferocious Lion. If you are interested, you can come with me and continue your education and perhaps provide an old woman some company,” said the old witch with a gnarly, gapped tooth smile.
Mogo began to sob and hugged the hag for all of her life.
“Can I bring my pet brain?,” asked Mogo.
“Of course, dearie, of course,” said the witch gently as she patted Mogo on the head.
The Legion of Glindas broke into applause. Jenny could not help it and joined in the applause as well.
One Month Later . . .
Jenny waved goodbye to her friends. Glinda presented her a back pack filled with photos of her travels through Oz. Jenny gave Ozma and Dorothy kisses on the cheek and then hugged Jack and Saw-Horse. She checked her hair in the polished, metal coverings of Tik-Tok the clockwork man and then waved farewell to everyone else.
“It’s been an amazing couple of weeks, guys, but I’ve got to go,” she shouted through cupped hands.
“Remember, Jenny Everywhere, no matter where you end up in life, you always have a home here with us in Oz. Pretty much all of the Lands of Oz are open to you. The Legion of Glindas have made sure you will be welcomed as a true friend no matter which version of our faerie land you end up in,” said Glinda while giving Jenny a hug.
Jenny thanked her and blew a kiss to the assorted Oz glitterati. She then focused, found a doorway and shifted.

***
Jenny found herself surrounded by tall pillars and the crumbling ramparts of an ancient castle. Wind blowing through the remains of the structure caused a lonesome moaning that sent a chill up her spine. About the ruins were the statues of kings and queens, knights and creatures like centaurs and satyrs.
“This place feels familiar,” said Jenny as she took a seat on a toppled pillar.
“Who are you?,” a young man’s voice demanded.
Jenny spun around and saw two boys and girls dressed in armor and carrying weapons staring down upon her from on top a crumbling staircase. A massive lion trotted up behind them. Jenny felt the lion’s eyes piercing through her. The creature had an air of undeniable authority and power. He was used to leading and inspiring. His was a power that was unquestionable and irresistible, at least according to him.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into holy wars! Later,” said Jenny and shifted out of there.