Abducted to Oz

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

  A WINDOW, A WINDOW

  Graham's apartment in the palace was not at all palace-like, and itlooked as if it had not been lived in for some time. But he agreed tolive there. He had no desire to live in Ozma's palace, but he wanted tohave the ability to visit his friends on occasion. He still saw Ozma asa captor. All he had ever wanted was to go home, and now he knew that hewas never going to achieve that goal. In his heart, he hated Ozma fordoing this to him. The very least she could do would have been to bringhis family here! Why was she so structured about things? This was hardlythe stuff that nice fairy tales were made of!

  Graham's apartment was in a very secluded part of the palace where hewould not have to see anyone unless he elected to. There were noneighbors to speak of. Graham sort of preferred it that way. He did notwant to speak his mind about the cruel little Queen to anyone. She wasso mean that he feared she would make a cow-bell out of him if he seemedthe least bit insubordinate.... So he sat in an old settee and brooded.He had a good supply of books to keep him company, and all of the Oziancelebrities had agreed to visit him often. At the time, he had agreed tothese visits. But now, as he sat staring at the wall, he wished thatthey would not come. He yearned only to be left alone. But one can,after all, only be left alone for a short while before he becomeslonesome. And Graham was not so very long in becoming anxious for somesort of companionship, or at least some form of stimulation. He went toa bookshelf and perused the titles on the various tomes that were there._The Emerald City of Oz_ was among them. Graham sullenly took it in hishands and flopped it open. To his astonishment, he found there areference to Dorothy's aunt and uncle being allowed to come and live inOz to be close to her. Not only that, but it recounted how Dorothy hadcome to visit Oz on many occasions, gone back home to Kansas, and eventold people about Oz while she was there! This really made Graham feelinsulted. If Ozma could trust a girl, why not a boy? For the next coupleof hours, Graham pored over the many books that he found in the palacelibrary's vast collection. Each and every time a person, adult, boy, orgirl, came to Oz, Ozma had always treated him as she had Dorothy. Infact, the very Shaggy Man that Ozma had mentioned actually had to beg tostay in Oz! Ozma had practically insisted that he be sent home! Why wasshe acting so cruelly toward himself, but toward no one else? He stoodup indignantly and decided then and there to make his way back to thethrone room and have a word with Ozma. That mean little girl would havea darn good explanation for this, or she would have a black eye!

  Graham walked the corridors of the palace for about twenty minutes. Butthey seemed to have twisted and turned around. They were not as heremembered them at all. He wondered at this. Could Ozma have done thisto permanently entrap him? He grew to hate Ozma more and more as theminutes ticked away. The corridors seemed endless! And none seemed tolead to anyplace in particular, either. "Ooh!" he said, gritting histeeth in frustration. "When I find that little twirp of a Queen, I'mgoing to show her what-for!" But three more hours of frustration broughthim no closer to this goal. At last, he flung himself to the ground andlooked up at the ceiling. "I hate you, Princess Ozma!" he grunted. "Ihate you!"

  Then, from sheer exhaustion, he fell asleep. He remained asleep for anundeterminable period of time. He was awakened by a shaft of light inhis eyes. A window! There was a window! He had overlooked it in hisfrustrated exhaustion, but now it was evident to him. Oh, it was a bithigh, but he felt that he might be able to jump up to it. He pickedhimself up. His body was still a bit exhausted, but he was a young boy.And in good shape. He made his leap. Then he picked himself up and triedagain. It took him sixteen tries to make it, but he finally managed tograb hold of the edge of the window. There was no glass, so he pulledhimself through. The land outside was a barren mass of crowdedprickle-weeds and gnarled old trees. Obviously not a part of the EmeraldCity that would be mentioned in a travel agent's brochures. But Graham wasdetermined to find Ozma. He pushed aside the prickling weeds as best hecould and trudged through the dust and muck of the area. It nauseatedhim, but he moved on. He thought how odd it was that the Emerald City ofOz would have such an unpleasant area in it. But he let these thoughtsdissolve as he recalled what an unpleasant queen the place had. Afterseveral hours of fighting against the weeds, most of which were twicehis size, he was surprised to hear a small voice. "Who are you?" itsaid.

  "I'm Graham," he replied.

  "Really?" said the voice. "I love your crackers. Where are you?"

  "I'm in a bunch of weeds," he said.

  "Oh? How come?"

  "I was trying to find the front of Ozma's palace. Can you help me findit?"

  "I could," said the voice. "But you are about four thousand miles outof your way."

  "What?" said Graham. "You're wrong! I just escaped out of a window inOzma's palace a few hours ago! And I know I haven't made any progresshardly at all!"

  "I'm afraid it's you who are wrong," replied the voice. "Ozma's palaceis a long, long journey from here. Ah, here you are!"

  A burst of sudden fire appeared out of nowhere; it burned away a numberof the weeds, and Graham saw a clear tunnel through the weeds to openair. In addition to that, however, he saw the most unusual creature hehad ever seen ... It was not very large, but it looked as if it werecomposed of several different-sized squares and rectangles. All straightedges, nothing rounded. It had thick, leathery skin, and threeglistening hairs grew from the tip of its rectangular tail. The creaturespoke: "Now that I have a face to go along with the voice, I can seethat you are a stranger in these parts. Allow me to introduce myself. Iam he who is called the Woozy. To the best of my knowledge, I am theonly Woozy in the world, so I've never had need of any other particularname. Happy to meet you, Graham. I hope that you are a nice fellow, andnot some meany who will say Krizzle-Kroo to me."

  "N-no," stuttered Graham. "I wouldn't say a thing like that, I'm sure.But--I have just climbed out a window of Ozma's palace. I couldn'tpossibly be as far from there as you say!"

  "Yes, you are," replied the Woozy. "You must be mistaken about thewindow."

  "But Ozma was there! And the Scarecrow, and the Tin Woodman, and thePatchwork Girl, and Tik-Tok, and ... and everyone!"

  "I'm sorry, my friend Graham," said the Woozy. "There is no palace here.The only building here that I know of is that one that was built by theold Wicked Witch of the West. The Winkies say that she used to have abunch of winding corridors in there that were meant to drive her slavesnuts if they ever were sent there as a punishment."

  "But how did I get there from the Emerald City? Ozma was really mean tome, so I locked myself away in a room there."

  "Ozma was mean to you?" the Woozy said with obvious shock. "Are you avillain?"

  Graham quickly related the whole story to the Woozy, who seemed to bethe only friend (however unfamiliar) he had had around him in an awfullylong time.

  "My," replied the Woozy. "That is quite a story. But I fear you wereduped, my friend."

  "Duped?" echoed he.

  "I think you were never in the Emerald City. Somehow, the Witch sent youhere and created a very elaborate hallucination for you. She uses theseweeds for that sometimes. That's why I was burning them away. I can makefire come out of my eyes when I'm angry, and these wicked weedscertainly make me feel that way! Want to see?"

  "No," sighed Graham. "So you mean that wasn't Ozma who talked to me?"

  "Certainly not!" The Woozy was indignant. "Our dear Queen is not likethat at all! I can assure you that you spoke to a hallucination causedby an infusion made out of these dratted weeds!"

  "Yes, my little square-boxed squiggley!" came the voice of the Witch."You have assessed the situation very well." The Witch appeared,seemingly out of nowhere. "Did you really think I was fooled by thatruse? You must think I'm a real moron! But I have won! Telly is disposedof for good!"

  "Allidap!" shouted the Woozy. "The fake one from the parade! It's her!"At the sight of the hated individual, a huge blast of fire burst forthfrom his eyeballs. The Witch ducked aside, but not
before getting herface badly blackened and her clothing ruined. "You just wait!" spat theWoozy at the evil creature. "Ozma will look for you in her Magic Pictureyet! You just wait! She'll make a spell that will send you away forgood!"

  "Nope," smiled the Witch. "That's covered. You remember how realisticmy illusionary Emerald City was? Well, I watched and waited for atrusted friend of Ozma's to look into that silly old Magic Picture. ThenI gave it to him. A very beautiful hallucination! He saw me fall into ariver and dissolve completely. So as far as Ozma is concerned, I amdestroyed. She'd have no further need to suspect otherwise, so she willnot seek me out."

  The Woozy was taken aback. But he quickly composed himself and added,"And Glinda will read about you in the Magic Book of Oz!"

  "Similarly handled," grinned the Witch. "Any other bright ideas?"

  Another blast of fire issued forth from the Woozy's eyes. The weeds wentup in a towering inferno.

  "Let's get out of here!" said the Woozy to Graham. "Contrary to whatsome people think, I am not made of wood! I have to breathe, and I fearthat this smoke might be as hallucinogenic as the stuff she makes fromthe weeds!"

  The two ran away as fast as they could. At such time as they were farenough from the smoke to breathe easy, Graham stopped running. The Woozydid not seem to notice, and he just kept right on going and going andgoing. Graham was alone again. But at least he was out of the terribleWitch's reach. Indeed, the Witch was presently having a most excitingdream about plush animals which could be inflated to the size of a houseand then used as potato-mashers in the thermostat of life which likes tothink about groovy butterflies with red and purple and yellow and violetwhispers in the dark backward uprising theme of the way it really was inthe thunder of the goat farm with lots of yams and a shovelful of finewhite powder that looked like the side of a barn with lots of clocks andfleas with orange earrings in their hazy green and blue and pinkwalking-sticks which were married to some tortilla chips and aboutthirty-five orange and brown cabinet-makers with green feathers and pinkfur.