Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Michael watched as his son, George Michael, descended the steps.  The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance and Michael sighed.

“Hey, pal,” Michael said, patting George Michael’s shoulder as he passed by him.  “Guess we’ll have to cancel our plans, huh?”

“Ah, it’s alright, dad.  It’s not like you knew there was gonna be a hurricane,” George Michael said with a timid smile, looking away from the fridge for a moment.  “But our bikes’ll still be there for next time.”

“Of course, of course,” Michael said, sighing.  “I just don’t know when next time’ll be with everything going on at work.  Ugh, I’m sorry things have been so busy.”

“Really, it’s fine,” George Michael replied.  “Plus, just cause there’s a storm doesn’t mean we can’t do something else!  Maybe we can play a board game or watch a movie or something.  We can even get the whole family in on it too, especially since Aunt Lindsay, Uncle Tobias and Maeby are visiting.”

Michael grimaced.

“Let’s just keep it between us, okay?  We have more than enough family time and not enough father-son time.”

“Tell me why I came all this way again?” Lindsay snarked as she entered the kitchen.

“Ah, Linds, I- I promise- It’s really got more to do with just wanting to spend time with my son than not wanting to spend time with you guys.”

“No, it’s fine,” Lindsay sighed, making her way over to the fridge, just standing there and staring into it blankly.  “I get it.  Plus,” she said, lowering her voice, “if you included us, G-O-B would insist on being included too.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say anything but-”

George Michael didn’t look up from the bowl as he poured his cereal.  It always made him uncomfortable when his family talked about each other like that.

They all resumed their previous tasks, Michael grabbing his piece of toast from the toaster and taking a seat next to George Michael at the counter.  Lindsay closed the fridge, holding a small yogurt.  She grabbed a spoon and leaned up against the island, facing her brother and nephew.

“So,” Lindsay began after swallowing a spoonful of yogurt.  “I’m working on starting up a fundraiser to help save the rainforest-”

“The rainforest?  I thought you were working on a project for helping the homeless?”

“Yes, but the rainforest is dying , Michael,” she said, sticking another spoonful in her mouth.  “Last time I checked, the homeless people are all alive and well.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d say they’re alive and well… ” 

“Plus, the organization I’d partnered with was expecting me to go into some of the communities and that is not great for optics.  Especially with the outfit I’d picked out.  I’d hate to ruin it.”

“There it is,” Michael sighed.  “So you’re not helping the homeless cause you might get your outfit dirty?”

Lindsay rolled her eyes.

“Well, don’t put it like that .”

“ You put it like that.”

“Listen, Michael, I’ve finally lost enough weight to look good in the dress.  I’m not gonna put in all that work just to ruin my outfit.”

“Linds, maybe instead of working to lose weight that you don’t even need to lose, you could put that energy towards the issues you claim to care about.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious, Linds.  If you really care about these issues, then put your money where your mouth is.”

“If you’re suggesting I eat more, trust me, I eat plenty.”

“What?” Michael said, narrowing his eyes.  “No, I meant- You should put in the effort instead of focusing on ‘optics’ so much.  What matters is your actions, not your looks.”

“Michael, I- I know, okay?” Lindsay said, leaning up against the counter.  “But…It’s not like I have much to offer otherwise…”

Michael furrowed his brow and turned fully to face her.

“Oh, come on, Linds, you aren’t- You aren’t brainless .”

Lindsay just turned and gave him a look.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t the most well rounded person in terms of- of knowing things but maybe you’d have some brains if you actually put some effort in.”

“I do put effort in!”

“Where?”

She gave him a look and sighed.

“Well, I have put effort in at times…It’s just never worked.”

“Well, maybe you just weren’t putting enough effort in,” he said and when Lindsay glared at him, he quickly continued.  “Cause I know you’re capable, Linds.  You’re smart.”

“Well, now I’m starting to think you don’t actually have brains either if you believe that,” she joked lightly.

“You’re smart,” Michael said flatly.  “You just have to…apply yourself.”

“The college I dropped out of would claim otherwise.”

“Hey, I dropped out of college too,” Michael said.

“Yeah, to take care of your son.  I stopped because I couldn’t keep up with the workload or understand half the crap they were talking about.  This,” she said, gesturing to herself.  “Is my only valuable asset.”

“Well…at least you tried, right?” George Michael offered.

“Do or do not, there is no try, George Michael, but yes, yes, of course.  At least…you tried,” Michael said, feigning encouragement, which Lindsay made it clear she saw right through.  “Hey, you can’t say the same for everyone.  Some people don’t put in any effort and just end up slacking off their entire life, never getting a real job and couch hopping till the day they die.”

“You know, I can hear you, Michael,” Gob’s voice called out from the other room.  “And we get it, you got the loud cum award in high school, you’re so smart.”

Lindsay gave Michael a look.

“I didn’t know,” Michael mouthed, craning his neck to see his brother, who was lying on the living room couch.  “It’s called summa cum laude, Gob, not…”  He wrinkled his nose.  “Whatever you said.”

“In English, please?” Gob said exhaustedly.

“I…I don’t know the exact translation but-”

“Oh, well wouldja look at that.  Mr. Smarty-Pants over here doesn’t even know the translation for his stupid, dumb, smart award.”

“Great choice of adjectives, Gob,” Michael sighed.  “And yeah, it’s a real shame I don’t speak Latin .”

“Uh, I believe it’s called Spanish.”

“Yeah, even I know that,” Lindsay said.

Michael sighed frustratedly and walked over to the room.  His older brother was laying on the couch, splayed out across it like a rag doll.

“So how’s the job search going,” Michael needled, tapping impatiently on the doorway.  “Found anything yet?”

Gob’s amused expression turned sour and he shook his head.  

“Not even a good morning?” he scoffed.  “No, Michael, I haven’t.  I have no job other than my current job, which is being a magician.  But you’ve made it clear that you don’t care about that…” he said dejectedly.

Michael sighed and begrudgingly made his way over to his mopey older brother.  George Michael followed close behind, timidly as always.  Gob’s gaze was fixated on the loose thread in the carpet he was mindlessly picking at.

“Gob, you know I care about your…passion.  But it’s just not a stable or sufficient source of money and you haven’t been getting anywhere in terms of notoriety so I think you need to start looking for a job- and don’t say the Hot Cops, I mean a normal, actual job.  That doesn’t mean you can’t be a magician too but you need to be able to rely on yourself for money and housing…And again, we’re talking real jobs.”

Gob closed his mouth and pouted, grumbling something about how it was a real job and that Michael was a square.

“So you care about my magic career, huh?” Gob asked after a moment.

“Yeah, Gob,” Michael lied.  “I do.”

“Then why didn’t you come to see me at the open mic last night?” Gob said, making eye contact with Michael for the first time since the conversation started.  “No one else came either…You all missed the illusion I dedicated to you guys.”

Gob had begun to get a little teary by the end and Michael knew he had to shut things down fast before they escalated any further.

“Sorry for missing your show, Uncle Gob,” George Michael said sincerely and a hint of a weary smile twitched on Gob’s lips.

“Oh, shoot, I totally forgot about that, Gob,” Michael said, and he actually had, not that he was really that torn up about it, though.  “Dad needed me to stay late at work and it genuinely slipped my mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Gob said.  “Tell me all about how Dad actually likes having you around, pshh.  What a brother you are.  And thank you, George Michael, for being able to apologize without bragging.”

“What?  I wasn’t trying to- We were at work, Gob, it’s not like we were having fun and hanging out.”

In fact, it was quite the opposite.  Things were stressful, like always, at the Bluth Company and Michael was facing the brunt of it, the pressure from his father turned up to 11.  It was becoming harder and harder to appease his demands and that meant Michael having to work overtime just to get a thumbs up.

“And George Michael,” Michael continued, lowering his voice as he turned to his son, a gentler expression on his face.  “Just stay out of this, okay?  You don’t need to get yourself involved.”

“But I- Okay…” George Michael said, staring down at his feet.

“Anyway, Gob, we were just doing work.”

“So was I,” Gob said.  “How on Earth am I gonna get my name out there and be a- and be a famous magician if I don’t have any support?”

“Well, if you’re not getting any support, then maybe that’s a sign that you’re not very, uh…good.”

Gob looked between screaming at Michael and profusely sobbing.

“I’m- I’m good at magic, Michael,” he spat.  “Which you’d know if you went to my shows…At least dad was with you.  He can’t even— He can’t even stand to b- be around me,” he said, trailing off for a moment, getting a faraway look in his eyes before directing them back at his brother.  “You know, I thought you were better than this, Michael, but I guess I was wrong.  You’re just as selfish as ever. Typical, selfish, heartless Michael.”

Michael stood up from where he’d knelt beside Gob, his face now in an unamused frown.

“Selfish, huh?  Heartless?  Gob, if there’s anyone here who’s heartless, it’s you.  All you do is take advantage of people’s kindness and- and generosity until they catch on and dump you out on the street.  You’re lucky I’ve had the patience to not do that yet.”

Gob scoffed.  “Threatening to throw me out, and in a hurricane no less…Sounds pretty heartless to me…Robot,” he sneered.

“Yeah, cause I’m the robot, right?  I’m the cold, heartless robot, not you who doesn’t care about anyone or how your actions affect them.”

“I- I am not a robot!” Gob said incredulously, the tears that had been budding in his eyes finally streaming down his face.  “I feel!  I care!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you feel, Gob.  That’s abundantly clear,” he said, condescendingly looking his brother up and down.  “But care?  You care about people?”

Gob nodded slightly.

“Huh…Cause from what I’ve seen, your actions tell a different story.”

“I told you about the illusion I was gonna dedicate to you guys, didn’t I?”

Michael shook his head.  “I mean real selfless actions, Gob.  Doing stuff that isn’t just you repackaging one your interests with the words ‘to xyz, from Gob’.”

Gob’s face fell.

“Do you not like the gifts I’ve made you?” he said, looking genuinely hurt.

Michael sighed.

“Gob, I- I appreciate the gifts, but what I would really appreciate is if you put in any amount of effort at all.”

“I do!  I put lots of effort into the gifts!”

“I’m not talking about the gifts!  I’m talking about putting effort into your life!  You’ve never had a stable job, home, a long term girlfriend and that’s because you never do anything to keep them.  You never try and you’re constantly falling apart at the seams because of that and I’m the one stuck having to always pick up the pieces!  I care.  You…I’m not so sure.”

Gob just stared with watery eyes, his lip quivering as he sniffled.  After a second, he readjusted his position to sit upright and began reaching out but Michael took a step back.

“Nope, no hugs right now.  I’m not in the mood.”

Gob wilted and with a sulk, dejectedly flopped back onto the couch 

“If you want people to actually support you, maybe try finding it within yourself to be a nicer person more often.  But I dunno, according to you, robots can’t feel so…Maybe that’s a lost cause,” Michael said, turning to walk away.  “Come on, George Michael.”

“Well, you’d- you’d have to- to— to be- to- Ugh!” was all Gob choked out before giving up in a huff and sulking angrily.  As they walked away, George Michael looked over his shoulder and gave a small wave and when Gob noticed, he halfheartedly waved back.

The two returned to the kitchen, and Michael could see Lindsay sitting at the table, drinking a mug of tea when suddenly-

“Hey, brother!“

“AH- Oh, uh, Buster, hey.  You gotta- You gotta stop sneaking up on people like that.”

“You can always tell a Milford man,” Lindsay muttered from the table.

“Hey, Uncle Buster,” George Michael waved, looking a little startled himself.

“Sorry, brother.  Hey, nephew.  I didn’t mean to scare you guys.  Although, it was worth the look on your face.  It was pre-tty funny,” he said with a sly grin.  “You both were like ‘Ahhhh’,” he said, making small gestures of panic before giggling.

“Priceless!” Gob laughed from the other room.

“Shut up, Gob!” Michael shouted back tiredly.  Buster peered over at Gob himself.

“You guys had quite a spat, huh?”

“He’ll get over it.  By the sounds of it, he already has,” Michael muttered.  “Anyway, so, uh, what are you doing here, Busty?  Where’s Mom?”

“Well, we had a bit of a fight and she kicked me out for the day.”

“Oh, I see, I see.”

“Said she didn’t care if I got swept up in the hurricane and died.”

“Yep, sounds like mom.”

“Anyway, I’m here now since I don’t have anywhere else to take refuge.”

Michael sighed.  “Yeah, sure, buddy.  That’s fine.  Are you gonna be staying the night then, or…Cause I don’t know where you’ll sleep since Lindsay and her family are using the guest room for the moment and Gob sleeps on the couch.”

“I could always sleep in bed with you,” Buster said.  “I mean, I’m gonna be spending the day with you anyhow.”

Michael paused.  “…You’re…Wait, what’s happening?”

“Well, it’s not like I can spend the day alone in a hurricane,” he said, deadly serious, almost offended at Michael’s ignorance to that fact.  “What if a tree falls on me and there’s no one around to help me in time?  And I don’t have anything to soothe my nerves since I forgot my anxiety meds at home.  I usually have them on me but I’ve had to hide them ever since Mom picked up a pesky habit of slipping them into my food whenever I’m being fussy,” he laughed, looking amused in spite of what he’d said.  “But anyway, I need you to protect me, like Mom does.”

“Come on, buddy, you can’t…muster up some courage?” Michael said, trying to sound encouraging.

Buster hummed uneasily.

“Okay, then maybe instead of me, you can hang around Linds-“

“I’m busy.”

“- Gob today…How about that?  He’s definitely not busy, I can tell you that.”

“I dunno,” Buster said, lowering his voice and rubbing his arm self consciously.  “He always makes fun of my fear of extreme weather.”

Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise and taking a deep breath before rushing out, “Fine, fine, sure.  Whatever, you can hang around me.”

“Thank you, brother.  This means a lot to me,” Buster said, putting his hands on Michael’s shoulders and squeezing them.

“Don’t wanna massage, buddy,” Michael said, worming out of his grasp.

“Oh, sorry,” Buster said, taking a step back.

“It’s fine.”

Suddenly, Michael felt his back pocket buzz and he sighed again as he took out his phone.

“I’ll be right back,” Michael said, heading towards the door of the home and sighing as he heard the start of George Michael inviting Buster to help him pick out a movie.  It was…sweet of him but, god, he didn’t get why George Michael was so interested in hanging out with the rest of his family.

He massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the signs of an incoming headache.  Hopefully, some fresh air would clear his head.  

Unfortunately, the air was hot and humid, and that alongside the gray, looming clouds in the sky didn’t do much to help it.  But at least the world outside his house provided him some sort of sanctuary from his family.

“Hello, this is Michael Bluth,” Michael said as he answered the call, leaning up against the wall, wind gently rustling his hair.

“Michael, this is your mother.”

So much for sanctuary.

“Mom, hello, what do you need?” he said, shifting his position a little.

“Is Buster with you?”  Her voice, although largely stern and uncaring, had a twinge of worry.

“He is, mom.  He told me you two had a fight.”

Lucille sighed.  “I just needed a break from him,” she said boredly.  “He’s just nauseatingly needy sometimes and it was becoming too much.  I had to kick him out for a bit.  I swear, if I spent one more minute with him, I might’ve just thrown myself off the balcony and gotten swept up in the hurricane and died myself.”

“Right but, Mother, surely you could’ve waited until after the storm to do this.”

“Oh, I would’ve, Michael, if under any other conditions but he just wouldn’t stop playing with that insipid rainstick of his.  What else was I to do?”

“If you’re so bothered by him, maybe you could try actually sending him out in the world to find his own independence for once.”

“Are you crazy?  He’s practically a child!”

“He’s 29, Mom-”

“What?” Lucille shouted, her voice sounding far away.  A few seconds of silence.  “Ugh, I’ll have to let you go Michael,” she said, turning back to the speaker.  “Your father needs to use the line.  Just make sure Buster knows I don’t care if he gets swept up in the hurricane and-”

Beep.

Michael sighed and went to put his phone back in his pocket but he’d barely gotten it away from his ear before it started ringing again.  Goddammit.

“Please be a wrong number, for the love of God,” he grumbled as he picked up the new line.  “Hello, this is Michael Bluth.”

“Michael, are you busy?”

God dammit …Wait-

“Dad?  I thought-…Nevermind, uh, that depends on what you classify as busy.  What do you need?”

“Well, as you know, you haven’t quite been reaching the standards I’ve set for you-”

“Yes, yes, I know, Dad, I’m trying, I promise.”

“Of course- of course you are, Michael, I know that.  I just need you to, uh, try harder.  Cause, ya know, we’ve got all these deadlines for the new housing tract coming up and-”

“No, I know, I know.  I promise, I’ll get right to work on Monday and-”

“Actually, that’s what I wanted to call about.  I was wondering if you could get some work in this weekend, that way you have it done by Monday.”

“This weekend?” Michael said.  “I mean, I- I’d do it any other weekend but I was gonna spend the day with my son and I’m having to deal with Gob and Lindsay and Buster on top of that, and I- I don’t know if I have the time.  Plus, all my stuff is at the office.”

“Then you better hurry,” George said.  “Get there and back before the hurricane really kicks in.  We don’t want you getting swept up and dying in it.”

“But- I-” Michael trailed off, sighing.  “Sure, yes, I’ll be right on it, dad.  I’ll have everything done by Monday.”

“You know, this is why you’re my favorite son, Michael,” George said.  “You’re hard working and always willing to do anything for me- for family.  You’re a real Bluth.”

Michael couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Thanks, dad.  Yeah, I’ll get right on it.”

And with that, his dad hung up and along with it went Michael’s smile, replaced once again with an expression heavy with responsibility.  He looked up at the sky and found himself yearning for a presence who’s absence he’d felt from the second she was gone; a painful, raw, throbbing hole left in his heart.  It’s how he found himself living at one of the company’s crappy homes instead of the actual home she and Michael had spent years saving up for.  It’s how he found himself working overtime and piling on far more than he could handle, but handling it anyway.  It’s how he found his relationship with his siblings falling apart just as it seemed that they might finally be starting to understand each other.  

And maybe there was a way to get back to that, a time where trouble hardly stood a chance and Michael, for once in life, was starting to feel happy; an emotion he realized he’d, up until then, never truly be acquainted with.  But he had no idea where to even start, not without her to guide him, and his future with his family, the family she’d seen so much light in, was looking almost as dark and dreary as the sky above him.

“Dad?” a small voice piped up.  Michael turned around to see George Michael standing in the doorway.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.  Something came up at work, though.  Pop pop called and I don’t think we’ll, uh…I think we are gonna have to push our father-son time to another week,” Michael said with a sigh.  “Sorry bud.”

”It’s alright,” George Michael said, a little disappointed.  “Anyway, um, I think you should probably get insi-“

“You know, George Michael,” Michael interrupted.  “I’m just sick of this family.”

“Oh…”

“Day after day after day, they pile their- their selfish needs all over me and just expect me to take care of them like they’re children!  They’re full grown adults, George Michael!  They should be able to take care of themselves!”

“Yeah, but-“

“I just wish I could get away from it all.  Away from all of them, you know?  And things could go back to the way they used to be; just you and me…”  Michael ruffled George Michael’s hair and he felt his chest grow heavier.  He shook his head.  “A place where we can finally be a real family again, one that actually cares about each other.”

“Um, yeah, Dad, that sounds nice.  But we really should get insi-“

“You think there’s a place like that, George Michael?  There must be!…What do you think, pal?”

“Uh…” George Michael said, thinking to himself.  “I mean, Pennsylvania’s pretty-”

“Arizona always seemed nice to me.  And it’s great cause it’s not even that long of a drive!”

“Ari-Arizona, right, yeah…That’s where I- Mhmm…”

“It’s far, far away from all this…all this selfishness,” Michael said wistfully, staring off into the distance.  A gust of wind blew strongly and George Michael, the small child that he was, did his best to keep his balance.  Even Michael found himself planting his feet firmer on the ground.  “Away from being needed all the time— You know I hate that, George Michael.  Being needed all the time.”

“Yeah,” George Michael said, a look of concern on his face.

“Yeah,” Michael said dreamily.

Somewhere over the state line

Just out east

There’s a state that I heard of

Where one can feel complete

Someday I’ll wish upon a star

And wake up where my family’s far behind me

Where people won’t just talk about

Needing cash, favors, bailing out

That’s where you’ll find me

Somewhere over the state line

People drive

And stay over the state line

Why oh why can’t I?

“Dad, it’s getting pretty windy out here…Dad?”

”You know, George Michael,” Michael said, his head above the clouds.  “I was gonna head out to the office but why go there when there’s a place like Arizona?”

“So are we gonna go inside then or-“

“No, did you not hear me?” Michael said, acknowledging what his son said for the first time the entire conversation.  “We’re going to Arizona.  Then maybe this family will start appreciating how much I do for them.”

George Michael blinked.

“Wh-what?  Right- right now? ”

“You heard me,” Michael said, patting his son on the back with a smile.  “You better go pack your bags quick cause I wanna head out A-S-A-P.”

“But Dad, there’s a hurricane!  I don’t wanna get swept up in it and die!”

“You’re not gonna get-” Michael paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes.  “We’re gonna be fine.  Plus, we’re driving away from it so I doubt we’ll run into any trouble.”

“But also, shouldn’t we maybe plan?” George Michael said, following his dad inside.  “If we wanna go and stay , maybe planning would help-“

“No time for planning, George Michael,” Michael said as he began to climb the stairs.

“Planning for what?” Lindsay asked, approaching the stairs herself.

“We’re going to Arizona,” Michael said simply.

“You’re leaving?” Buster said, a little panicked as he scurried closer.

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” Michael said exasperatedly, beginning to climb the stairs, George Michael hesitantly trailing behind.

“Wait, you’re heading to Arizona, Mikey?” Gob said as he too gathered around the staircase, sounding confused and a little concerned.  “That doesn’t exactly sound safe to do right now…”

“Gob, you of all people do not get to tell me what is and isn’t safe.”

“Would hearing me say it’s not safe help, cause it really isn’t safe to be out there,” Lindsay said, hands on her hips.  “You don’t want to get swept up in the hurricane and die.”

“Yeah,” Buster said.  “Plus, you promised you’d make sure I was safe.”

“You have two siblings right there who can help you with that, Buster.  That is, if they can think of someone other than themselves for once.”

“Michael!” Lindsay spat.

“Ah-”

“Typical…”

“Come on, George Michael,” Michael said, waving his son along and ignoring his siblings’ tutting.

George Michael just watched pitifully as his dad climbed the stairs, giving his aunt and uncles one last look before reluctantly heading to his room.

…

“So wait, you guys are leaving?  Is he not worried you guys might get swept up in the hurricane and die?”

“That’s exactly what I tried telling him!  But he’s…He’s not always the best at listening.”

“I know the feeling,” Maeby sighed, flopping onto the floor.  George Michael sighed as he began digging through his drawers.  “That’s so weird that he’s just…moving you guys out there so suddenly.”

“Well, this isn’t the first time he’s tried this,” George Michael informed casually.  “But I don’t think we’ve ever even made it into the state.  Honestly, the only reason I bother packing at this point is to make him feel better,” he said.

“That’s so weird,” Maeby said, raising her eyebrows.  “I’d always gotten the impression that he was the normal one in the family.”

“I mean, he’s pretty unspontaneous otherwise so at least comparatively, that’s true.  As an unspontaneous person myself, I’m not a fan of when he gets like this but thankfully, it’s about as erratic as he gets.  It usually lasts at most 30 minutes and has yet to happen more than once a year, if that, so I don’t stress out too much.  Once he’s set on Arizona, there’s not really anything I can do to change his mind so I kind of just have to go along with what he tells me.”

“Why don’t you just tell him no?”

“Well, like I said, once he has his mind set on it, there’s nothing you can really do.”

“What have you tried?”

“…Um…Telling him it’s a bad idea?”

“Well, okay, then obviously he’s gonna keep doing this over and over then.  You say he’s bad at listening so if you’re just telling him it’s a bad idea, it’s gonna go in one ear and out the other like everything else.  Throw a tantrum, refuse to leave your room, don’t pack your stuff.  Adults are oblivious a lot and sometimes you need a bright flashing sign just to get them to remember to order dinner.”

“…Is that a common experience?”

“Is it not?”

“I don’t think so…?”

“Oh…” Maeby says, her demeanor faltering for a brief second.  “Well, my point still stands.”

“I- Yeah, but I don’t know, I’m not much of a tantrum person.”

“I gave you two other examples, George Michael, and there are infinite other ways too.”

“…I guess.”

“I, uh, appreciate the offer, Tobias, but I’d really rather you not ‘peer into my annal ca- Nope, I am not repeating that…I’m not interested in discussing anything, okay?”

The two of them turned at the muffled sound of Michael’s voice coming from just outside the door, and he walked in a moment later.  Maeby turned to George Michael and gave him a look and he returned it with one akin to seasickness.

“Hey, pal, you almost done with packing?”

“I’m getting there,” he laughed through a grimace.

Maeby raised her eyebrows and subtly nodded over at her uncle.  George Michael sucked in a shallow breath.

“Great.  Just let me know- Oh,” Michael trailed off as his vision lowered to match where George Michael had promptly sat down.  “Well, like I was saying, just let-”

“I think George Michael has something to say,” Maeby interrupted, looking over at him expectantly.

Michael looked over to George Michael, who just sat there silently staring back.  Michael furrowed his brow.

“…You alright, pal?”

“Mhmm,” George Michael said.  “I just…”

Maeby waved him on.

“…am so excited for Arizona,” he said, giving an apologetic look to Maeby, who slapped her forehead.  

“No you aren’t!  Uncle Michael-”  

“Maeby, don’t-”

“He doesn’t wanna go.  That’s what he was trying to say.”

Michael furrowed his brow before suddenly breaking into a smile and chuckling, much to Maeby’s confusion.  

“You two are a bunch of jokers, huh,” he said with a laugh, ruffling both of their hair, which George Michael didn’t even react to, looking almost like he was short circuiting.  “Finish up soon, bud, alright?  Don’t have so much fun that you forget about the task at hand.”

With that, Michael left the room and Maeby was left, staring at the door in disbelief.

“Jesus, he might be worse than my dad.”

“Told you,” George Michael murmured.

Not long after, George Michael finished up his packing and met his dad out in the hallway. 

“You ready, son?”

George Michael looked at the ground nervously and Michael watched him thoughtfully before kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“If you’re worried about the hurricane, George Michael, we’ll be fine, I promise.  The news always exaggerates this kinda stuff to get more people watching.”  George Michael’s expression didn’t change.  “I’m telling you, buddy, there’s nothing to worry about.”

George Michael opened his mouth to speak, hesitating for a second.  It was then Maeby left the room, elbowing him as she passed by to get his attention.

Walking backwards, she mouthed “Last chance,” and shrugged before turning back around and heading downstairs.  George Michael sighed.

“I know you’re excited to go to Arizona, dad-“

“I am!  I’m very excited,” he said standing up.  “This is a new start for us.”

“…You promise?  This time’s really gonna be a new start?”

“Of course!  We’re gonna show this family what they’re missing, eh, bud?” Michael said with a smile, heading down the stairs himself.

“Right…”

“Okay, we’re leaving now!” Michael announced.  “Hittin’ the road, never comin’ back- Come on, George Michael.”

“See you in an hour,” Lindsay said boredly.  “Ya know, cause you always come back.” 

“I’m not coming back.  Not this time.  I’m heading out for good and you guys are gonna have to get used to me not being around anymore.”

“Right, cause you’re gonna get swept up and die in the hurricane,” Gob muttered.

“I- I’m not gonna— get swept up and die in the hurricane!” Michael said angrily.  “Everyone stop- stop saying that,” he said, pulling George Michael with him out the door.

“Bye guys,” George Michael said.

“See you soon,” the chorus of siblings voices called out.

“See you soon.”

“Nope, not soon.  Not soon, George Michael,” Michael said, beginning to pile the luggage in the car as quickly as he could so they wouldn’t get wet, but the rain had begun pelting furiously in the time they’d gone to pack their bags, making that impossible.  “Gotta remember to leave off the ‘soon’.”

“Right, right, sorry, Dad,” George Michael said as he hurriedly piled in the front seat, buckling in.  Michael soon joined him.

“No, it’s fine, George Michael.  Just…remember next time.”

“…Next time?” George Michael asked, furrowing his brow.

“Hmm?  Oh- Slip of the- Not next time, cause there won’t be a next time.  Cause we’re not coming back.”

“…Okay.”

About 15 minutes passed before Michael’s cell phone rang.

“Hello, this is Michael Bluth,” he said, wincing at a particularly strong gust of wind.

“Michael!  Did you get your stuff at the office yet?”

“No, actually, I didn’t,” he said frankly.

“Are you still on your way?  I told you you gotta leave soon unless-”

“I’m not on my way, Dad.  I’m leaving.  For good.”

He heard a sigh from over the phone.

“God, not this- Arizona junk again…So what, you’re gonna leave only to come back, pushing back the progress you could be making on work by an hour or so?  You know what I taught you, Michael, every second counts.”

“Yeah, you also taught me there’s no time like the present, which is why I’m leaving right now.”

His dad just laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Don’t kid yourself, Michael, we all know you’re gonna come back.  And come on, even if you did somehow manage to leave and stay gone, what’s waiting for you in Arizona?”

“Well…”

“Nothing!  This won’t make you happy!”

“I mean, I think-”

“Helping the family!  That’s what makes you happy!  It’s what you’re good at!  We’ve got to- What do I always say?”

“We’ve got to stick together, I know, but…I’ve had enough, dad.”

“Michael, please,” George whined.  “I really need those ideas drawn up in time- the investors are getting antsy- You can’t- You’re not just gonna leave us here without someone in a position as integral to our operation as yours!”

“Well, you’ll just have to find someone else to do my job for me.  Not like what I ever did satisfied you so you can go find someone to do the job the way you want.”

“Oh, come on, Michael, where’d you get that idea from?  You’re a valuable and trusted employee!  And I mean, you haven’t even given us a two week warning, and with all that’s going on right now…what if the company sinks! Think about your siblings, what are they gonna do?  They’re not gonna be able to survive without the company’s money to support them- We need you!”

George Michael had been listening in on the conversation, waiting to hear those fateful words.  He may be 12 and not know a lot about the world but he’d left with his dad for Arizona enough times to know the process by heart.  And he knew what the words “we need you” meant.

“…Fine, I’ll do it, you’re right,” Michael sighed.  “I need to support you guys.  I need to be there for the family.  I’ll go to the office now.”

George Michael furrowed his brow, looking between outside and his dad.

“Great, and have everything done by Monday.”

“By Monday, yup, will do.”

Michael hung up and put down the phone before turning to George Michael the way he’d done so many times.

“Welp, it looks like we’re staying after all, pal,” Michael said, patting George Michael’s shoulder.  “You know, this family needs me and I have to be there for them.  I have to make sure we stick together, all of us.”

“If that’s what you want,” George Michael said.

“It is what I want,” Michael said firmly.  This is…what I want.”

An uncomfortable silence followed and Michael switched on the radio.

The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless, longing for some solitary company

With a sigh, he took in his surroundings.  Without his Arizona tinted glasses, he was finally beginning to realize it might not have been such a good idea to go out in a hurricane.  The palm trees swayed violently, leaves being torn from the tuft.  Litter danced down the road like tumbleweeds.  Rain battered their windshield so hard he was afraid it might break.

“Dad?” George Michael said, Michael flinching as he was brought out of his thoughts.

“Hm?  Oh, uh, yes?”

“…Family is the most important thing…right?”

“Well, I mean, yeah, George Michael,” Michael laughed, a little confused.  “I mean, I’m sticking around cause they’re important to me.”

George Michael nodded.

“Why do you ask?”

“I…” George Michael hesitated.  “It’s just, whenever we all get together, 99% of the time everyone just argues and it…We always talk about sticking together but it…it doesn’t feel like we’re sticking together.”

“Yeah, more like we’re stuck together,” Michael joked, elbowing his son playfully.  

“Right,” George Michael halfheartedly laughed.  “But…”

“Hm?”

“But then why do we say that, if it’s not true?  Why don’t we just…actually stick together?”

Michael sighed.

“Our family,” Michael began carefully, “is a little different than most families.  They’re all…They’re imperfect people who…I’m not sure can…”

Michael trailed off.

“Develop?”

“I was gonna say change but yeah, I guess that works.”

He took a deep breath.

“So sometimes, you just have to say things to make hard truths like that easier to accept.”

“But is that really true?”

Michael opened his mouth to respond but a particularly loud gust of wind interrupted his train of thought.

“Okay, woah there,” he said, laughing nervously as he felt the car drift a little on the slick streets, which were entirely empty apart from their car.  He gripped the steering wheel tighter.  “Geez, this storm is getting real rough, huh?  Hopefully, we can get to the office and back home before it gets any worse.”

“Maybe we should skip the office and just go home,” George Michael said, fidgeting nervously with his seatbelt.  Michael, recognizing the signs of George Michael’s faint-inducing anxiety attacks, put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him.

“Hey, buddy, it’s gonna be fine!  Really, I doubt anything bad’s gonna-”

“Oh my god, Dad, wa-”

Chapter Text

Michael woke up with a start, jolting up in his seat.  His heart was racing and his body ached.

He looked in front of him and saw…a steering wheel.  He was in a car and…He’d crashed the car.  His dad’s car.  Shit, his dad was gonna be pissed and- George Michael!

He jerked his head over quickly to see…no one.  George Michael was missing…His son was missing, oh god…Where did he go?  Did someone take him?  He has to go find him- he has to-

As he began to shakily unbuckle himself from his seat, he took note of the sunlight streaming through the cracked car windshield, which was strange given the fact that the skies were cloudy and gray when they crashed and surely they couldn’t have been out that long, could they?  He forced the car door open and stepped out, teetering a little as he tried to keep his balance and-

“Where the hell am I?” Michael said, looking around at the unbelievably vibrant and lush environment.  Colorful flowers that were larger than life peppered bright green bushes.  A pond or a fountain of sorts was filled with lily pads big enough for a dog to sit on.  Quaint houses sat in clusters and winding about it all was a…yellow brick road…

“Well, I get the feeling I’m not in California anymore…” Michael spoke aloud to no one in particular.  “Doesn’t look like Arizona either…”  His eyes widened.  “Am I dead?”

“You aren’t dead,” a familiar voice called out from above.  “And you aren’t in Arizona either, thank god.  What a fate that would be…”

Michael turned around to see a floating bubble descending slowly from the sky.

“Okay, I’m definitely not in California…” Michael said nervously, taking a few steps back as the pearlescent orb floated towards the bridge ahead of him.  “I’m dreaming, aren’t I.  Yeah, that’s it.”

“Dreaming?  You’re not dreaming, you idiot.  You’re awake, how on Earth could you be dreaming?”

“Well, if I’m not dreaming or dead, then I’m hallucinating,” Michael said, furrowing his brow.  That bubble sounded so familiar but…It couldn’t be…

“Good grief, just shut up so we can get this over with,” the bubble said, landing in front of him and suddenly fading away to reveal…

“Are you a good-“

“Mom?”

“-witch or a-…Did you just call me ‘Mom’?”

“Fine, Mother , but just- what’s going on?  Where are we?…And what, is it, Motherboy; why are you wearing that?”

His mother raised an eyebrow.

“You have me mistaken,” she said. 

“Very funny” Michael said flatly, staring at the woman who was undoubtedly his mom.

“I’m not joking,” she said.  “I’m Glinda the Good Witch of the North.”

“Low bar up there, huh?”

Glinda the “Good” Witch of the North narrowed her eyes at Michael’s snarky comment.  Suddenly, Michael jumped in surprise at tittering and muttering that erupted from around him but before he could ask what had made that sound, Glinda continued. 

“So I’m guessing you’re a bad witch then?  You must be with an attitude like that.”

“What?  No, I’m not a witch, I’m a human…and I definitely wouldn’t be a bad one if I was.  I’m Michael, your son.”

“God, you really must’ve hit your head in that car crash,” she sighed, shaking her head.  “Speaking of which, I was called here by the Munchkins-“

“The Munchkins? ” 

“Let me finish!  Didn’t your parents ever teach you that interrupting was rude?”

“My father did,” Michael said, feeling a slight twist in his stomach at the memory.

“Well, he didn’t teach it well enough,” she said with a judgmental look.  “Anyway, I was called here because the Munchkins told me a new witch just ran his car into the Wicked Witch of the East and the only new person around here is you so…”

Michael turned his head to look at the car and stuck out from underneath it was a pair of legs.

“Oh my god, is that…?  Holy crap…I killed someone, oh god…” he said, pulling his hair as he tentatively took a step towards the car.  Suddenly, he paused, taking note of the ruby red slippers and finally, everything began to click.  “Hold on, this…Is this the plot to the Wizard of Oz?”

Michael knew very little about the movie.  He’d gone most of his life seeing little to nothing of it.  He remembers a time when he was little that it started playing on some station while he and his siblings were watching the TV.  They hadn’t had it on for long before their father happened to walk by and called it a movie for homos.  Gob hastily shut it off.

Beyond that, Michael just never sook it out further.  He wasn’t much of a movie person and even if he wanted to watch something, he didn’t have the time for movies anyway.

He does faintly remember George Michael watching it a lot while Tracey was in the hospital, oftentimes falling asleep to it during nights they stayed late; it was one of the few DVDs that the hospital had that wasn’t scratched or missing from their case entirely.  But all his memories from that time are blurred and fuzzy so in spite of the repeated plays, he still knew next to nothing about it.  But even someone who knew next to nothing about it could tell you that red shoes and a yellow brick road were from that movie.

“What are you trying to do, imitate a bee?” Glinda said, giving him a look and reeling Michael back in from his thoughts.  “It’s pronounced ‘Oss’!  The ‘c’ is soft.  Oc , not Ozzz and definitely not Ock!  Also, I told you, don’t interrupt!  The Munchkins aren’t a patient bunch.  Now, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”

“I already- I said I’m not a witch!  I’m just a guy!  Do I look like a witch to you?”

“You’re certainly ugly enough to be a bad one.”

“Hm,” Michael huffed before smirking.  “Well now I’m curious: how much plastic surgery did it take for you to look like a good one?” he said flatly.

Someone snorted from somewhere Michael couldn’t see and Glinda briefly acknowledged it with a glare before promptly moving on. 

“Trust me, I’m a good one.  You’d know a bad witch if you saw one.  The ones around here are all an awful green hue and dress in black.  Their wardrobe is dreadful.  Though it’s no wonder why they dress like that, everything else would make them look like a seasick circus clown!”

“Hmm,” Michael nodded.  “Well, all black aside from those red shoes…”

“Yes…” Glinda said, trailing off.  “The shoes…Anyway, the Munchkins are very pleased.  You’ve rid them of the wretched hag that’s plagued their land.”  Glinda shook her head.  “She was a fiery one, that witch.  Practically as powerful as I, but it’s hard to admire her when she was so relentless towards the Munchkins.”

Once again, the muttering and tittering roused from the brush and Michael looked around him, trying to spot where it was coming from.

“Um, if I may ask, what are, uh…What are Munchkins?”

“They’re the little cowards who live in this land; Munchkinland,” she said, glaring around her.  “You all can come out already.  If it wasn’t clear, he’s harmless,” she shouted and sighed.  “Idiots…”

Suddenly, groups of nervous, small people, who were apparently called Munchkins, dressed in ridiculously patterned suits began to emerge from the surroundings.  Michael took a step back towards Glinda, a little intimidated by the swarm who’d apparently been watching and listening the whole time.

“Is she really dead?” one Munchkin said.

“I can’t believe it,” another wondered aloud.

“We’re finally free!”

“And he did it so neatly, too!”

Michael felt a little overwhelmed and kind of conflicted over the whole thing.  Even if she was a bad witch, surely killing her wasn’t the moral thing to do.

“Really, I didn’t mean to kill her,” he said.  “There was just a hurricane and I was driving to the office and a tree fell and…Now I’m here and I hit her and…It just…happened by accident.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t just happen by accident.  Every choice you make is important,” Glinda emphasized.  “Perhaps you didn’t intend on killing her but the choices you made that led to the end of her rule were purposeful, unless we’re in a court in which you should probably claim insanity.”

“Oh, god, am I gonna go to jail?!” Michael said, beginning to panic.

“What?  No, of course not,” she said with a smile.  “She’s been wanted, dead or alive, for a while now.  I mean, thank god you didn’t do anything different because now the Munchkins are free and the Wicked Witch is dead!  Now, how about we start the celebrations with a drink,” she sang, waltzing off.  Michael followed cause he was really gonna need a drink if he was gonna keep putting up with…whatever this was.

Also, really, how was that not his mom?

With that, Michael found himself surrounded by a crowd full of hoots and hollers and cheers as the Munchkins celebrated the death of the tyrannical Wicked Witch of the East.

Ding-dong! The Witch is dead

Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!

Ding-dong! The Wicked Witch is dead

Wake up you sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed

Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead

Now Oc is in control

No one to tell us no

Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out

Ding-dong's the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low

Let them know the Wicked Witch is dead!

“To the Wicked Witch’s death,” Glinda said, raising a glass, wearing a prissy smile.

Michael awkwardly clinked it and they both took a seat near the sidelines.  For a bit, they sat and watched as the Munchkins sang when suddenly, he felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Excuse me,” called a squeaky voice.  

“Oh, hey, uh-,” Michael paused, his eyes widening.  “J. Walter Weatherman?” There in front of him, wearing a green and orange plaid suit and top hat, and a large sash that read ‘MAYOR’, stood a much smaller version of the one armed man their father had used in his lessons.

“Who?”

Glinda cleared her throat.

“This is the mayor,” she growled under her breath.

“Oh, uh, excuse me, you just-…”

The mayor glanced over at Glinda, who raised her eyebrows as she took another sip.  

“Anyway, as mayor of the Munchkin City in the county of the land of Oc, I welcome you most regally.”

“Oh, uh, great, that’s great.  I feel, uh, regally welcomed,” Michael laughed stiltedly, looking around at the Munchkins, all still dancing around.

“I’m happy to let you know that the coroner and the judge deemed the Wicked Witch of the East to be dead.”

“They needed a coroner and a judge to tell you that?” Michael said, remembering the corpse and shuddering.

“It’s just so we could verify her as legally, morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely undeniably and reliably dead.  We can’t have her coming back to life and ruining things, can we?”

“Lotta ‘ly’s,” Michael joked but halted his chuckle when the mayor’s face stayed sour.  “Um, but yeah, no, you wouldn’t want that.”

“Exactly,” he said matter of factly, smiling for the first time in the whole interaction.  “Good to see a young man with a good head on his shoulders.  There are far too many people who’ve been poisoned by the Wicked Witch’s words.  Tempted to believe them and stray from Oc…Few lived to tell the tale and those who did…”  The mayor shivered.

“What happened to them?”

He looked over at Michael with a sly look.  He shook his head and exhaled a smug laugh and Michael chuckled along awkwardly, not sure what was so funny.

“You really wanna know?”

“…Do I?”

He took a few slow steps towards him and even though the mayor was a little over one foot shorter than Michael, he still felt intimidated and a familiar unease churned inside of him as the man approached.

“I once strayed from Oc…And you know what happened to me?”

“Uh, I- I don-”

“I lost an arm!” the Mayor said, ripping off his right arm with a forceful yank.  Michael flinched and even though there wasn’t any blood, he still felt a little queasy.

“And that’s why you don’t team up with witches,” he said, gesturing at Michael with the arm before reattaching it.

Now, Michael didn’t exactly believe the story given that this man(well, not this exact man but…) also “lost his arm” in a multitude of other ways but the effect, nonetheless, still worked like a charm.

“Understood.”

“And thankfully,” he said, straightening his sash.  “We won’t have to deal with that one anymore!  You’re our national hero.”

“Oh- Uh, thank you?” Michael said, laughing awkwardly.  “But really-”

“Of course,” the mayor said, interrupting him to shake his hand.  “It’s an honor to meet you…Michael from California, was it?”

“…I guess?”

“Well, Michael from California, I thank you again.  Now, I must be off so I can join in on the festivities!” he said eagerly, tipping his hat before running off and disappearing into the crowd.

It took Michael a moment to process all off…that.  First his mom and now J. Walter Weatherman?

“Kind of morbid, isn’t it?” Michael eventually said when he finally got his head to stop spinning again, looking over to Glinda.  “Them celebrating the fact that I killed her?”

“I don’t think so,” Glinda said, raising an eyebrow.  “We all hated her and she didn’t show us an ounce of respect so why does she deserve any in return?  And it’s not like she can get mad about it, she’s dead!”

“Yeah, but still-”

Glinda groaned.

“Oh, get off your high horse, Michael from California,” Glinda huffed.  “Don’t pretend you don’t like the attention.”

“I- Pshh, no,” Michael said.  “Why would I-”

“I mean, it’s natural!  Like, the mayor said, you’re a hero to the Munchkins!  To the people of Oc!  To Oc himself .”

“I mean, I don’t really know who Oc is but-”

“Trust me.  Being a hero to Oc is the greatest honor one could claim.”

Michael nodded.

“You’re a hero, Michael from California.  Who wouldn’t love being a hero?  You did a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Michael finally said.  “I guess I did…”

Hero, he thought to himself, smiling a little as he did.  He sat up a little straighter.  That is pretty-

BOOM!

The sound of thunder cracked through the air and the ground shook furiously.  In a puff of red smoke, a darkly dressed, small, green figure appeared and the dancing and cheering of the Munchkins quickly turned to scattering and screaming.  Glinda stood up and Michael swore she was actually growling. 

Michael, although a tad shaken, stood up and squinted to get a better look at, who he had to assume, was a witch.  And from the looks of it, she seemed to be the same one he’d crushed under his car earlier.

“Not enough ‘ly’s, I guess,” Michael commented, still unable to get a good look at the witch’s face.

“It was enough, ‘ly’s.  This, Michael from California, is the Wicked Witch of the East’s son ,” Glinda snarled.  “The Wicked Witch of the West.”

“So is it a family name or…”

“This is no time for jokes, Michael from California!  The Wicked Witch of the West is almost as powerful as his mother was.  He has the capability to undo all the progress you’ve done in ending his mother’s reign!”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Michael said.

Glinda began to warily walk towards The Wicked Witch of the West, who was inspecting the body of the other wicked witch underneath the car, and Michael followed close behind.

“Oh, dear,” a timid and…again, familiar voice worried as he lightly touched the tip of the shoe with his finger, recoiling like he’d just touched a hot stove.  “That’s not- that’s not good.”

“She’s dead!” Glinda announced grandly and the witch, startled, turned around and Michael’s eyes went wide.  “And if luck is in our favor, you’ll be rid of soon enough as we-…Are you paying attention?…Hello, I am going to kill you!  Hello!?”

He wasn’t paying attention.  His stare was held not on the formidable Glinda the Good Witch of the North, but on the man standing beside her.

“George Michael?” Michael said quietly, almost not believing his eyes.

“Dad,” George Michael said anxiously.  There seemed to be something expectant about his tone.

Glinda gave him a weird look.  “‘Dad’?”

“He’s my son,” Michael said, a faraway look in his eyes.  “So wait, doesn’t that mean…Oh my god, I…” he trailed off, horrified.  He felt his hands start to shake.

“Dad, hey, it’s okay,” George Michael said, rushing over to him, giving him a hug, mumbling, “The metaphor isn’t that literal, don’t worry.”

Michael wasn’t listening, still too in shock to process anything as he stared at Tracey/The Wicked Witch of the East in disbelief.

“I ran my…dead…wife over.”

“In a way…” 

Michael still seemed far off and George Michael shook his shoulder.

“Dad, hey,” George Michael said, his dad looking down at him.  “I- I don’t mean to be rude or insensitive but we really need to move on from this.  Like, I get if you need a sec cause ya know but…”

Michael sighed, dragging his hands down his face.  “Okay, okay, um…That’s…I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat.  “Are- are you okay, George Michael?  You weren’t in the car and- and I was gonna look for you but then there were all these Munchkins and one of them was the one armed guy Pop-pop used to teach lessons and your grandmother-”

“Yeah, Dad, yeah, I’m okay.  I’m not hurt or anything.”

“Good, good…” Michael said, sighing a little before realizing something he’d yet to fully process.  “Why are you…green?  And wearing all that?”

George Michael looked down at himself.  “That’s…not really a question for me to answer.”  He looked back up at Michael.

Michael furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean it’s not-”

“Okay, I’ve had enough of this ridiculous chitchat,” Glinda said, pushing Michael off to the side and advancing towards George Michael in large strides, her face twisted into the frightening look Michael had many times been on the receiving end of.  “Be gone before another car magically appears out of nowhere and hits you too!”

George Michael looked conflicted and took a couple steps back and Michael moved between them.

“Hey, no, you can’t talk to my kid like that.  That is- that is not okay!”

“Have you gone mad?  That isn’t your son!  That’s the goddamn Wicked Witch of the West!  A bad witch!  Are you telling me you’re on the side of a bad witch?  Did you not heed the warning the mayor gave earlier?”

“I- No, I’m on the side of my-”

“Witches are tricky beings, Michael from California.  I don’t know what you see in that boy but I’m telling you, it isn’t real.  I mean, first you insist I’m your mother, you seem to recognize the mayor from somewhere and now you think this witch is your son?  If I didn’t know better, this would sound like some sort of- some sort of spell ,” she said, eyeing the young witch.

Michael stood there, frozen and unsure of what to do, who to trust.  Noticing his hesitation, Glinda softened from her prior intensity.  A smile, too gentle and trustworthy to be worn by someone who looked like his mother, formed on her lips and she approached Michael tenderly.

“I apologize for yelling there’s just- There’s a lot at stake here, Michael from California!  And I don’t want you to fall for this vile witch’s tricks.  I mean, I’m Glinda the Good Witch of the North!  Good is in my name.  And you're trusting someone with ‘Wicked’ in their name just because they, for whatever reason, look like your son?  Michael from California, I’m disappointed in you.”

“Well- No, I’m just- It’s a gut instinct, you know?” he rushed out.  “Why would I not protect someone who…looks like my son?”

“Oh, I understand, Michael from California.  Trust me.  Which is why I’m glad I was here to help guide you away from this conniving son of a witch.  Remember this,” Glinda said, taking a step closer.  “Don’t listen to bad witches.  It’ll only cause you trouble and lead you down a road paved with regret.  So I implore, no, I beg that you make sure to not listen to them.”

She sounded desperate, genuine even.  Michael looked at George Michael(?), unsure of what to think. 

Timidly, George Michael said, “Well, can I say one last thing-”

“Silence!” Glinda hissed, her previous ruthless demeanor returning.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” George Michael said quickly, backing up towards the car.  “That’s- that’s fine…Uh, oooh, I’m a witch,” he said.

“You bastard!…You have no power here!” Glinda said through gritted teeth.  “Now be gone with you!”

George Michael stared at his father a moment longer before suddenly his eyes drifted away and he made a move for the ruby red slippers, only for them to disappear from the witch’s feet in an instant and pop into Glinda’s hand.

“Crap,” George Michael said.

“Hey, watch the language, buddy.”

“I’ll be taking the-,” Glinda began to say before, suddenly, they were plucked from her hand by a…flying monkey?

“What the hell?”

“Ah- Screw you,” Glinda said, shaking her fist at the sky.

“Think about the shoes, Dad.”

“The- What about them-” Michael said hastily, looking back to the car for a moment, only to see that his…the w…the body had disappeared.  “Wha…”

“Don’t listen to him!” Glinda screeched and Michael flinched.  “Never think about the shoes!  I said leave!  Now! ” she growled, directing her attention back to George Michael.

“I am, I am, uh…Okay, well, bye, Dad- I mean, Michael from California.  I’ll, uh, get you my…No- no, that sounds weird.  Uh, bye,” he said, waving casually as another puff of red smoke erupted from beneath him, a writhing flame burst up and in an instant, he vanished.

“God, what a manipulative little prick,” she said, shaking her head.  The Munchkins, who’d been hiding, reemerged and crowded the two, eagerly awaiting what they had to say.  “Well, you’ve made quite an enemy.”

“I guess…” Michael said.

Frankly, this… witch , or whatever, really didn’t seem that scary.

“Trust me, you have.  You don’t know what he’s capable of…I say the quicker you get out of Oc, the better.”

“Okay but…how?  Like, do I just wake up or something?”

“This isn’t a dream.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Fine, it’s not a dream.  The question still stands.  My car’s totaled so I’ll need some way to drive back home.”

Glinda cackled a grating laugh.

“You can’t get back to California by car, Michael from California.  That’s ridiculous.  Now, I can tell you who might be able to help you get home, though-”

“Oh, great.”

“ …If you do me a favor.”

Michael sighed.  “Man, even magical, fairytale worlds aren’t free of that, huh…God, I really gotta get to Arizona…”

Glinda made a face but quickly composed herself.

“There’s a wonderful, great and powerful man who goes by the name the Wizard of Oc; the one I told you about.  He lives in the Emerald City.”

“And he can get me home?”

“Even better,” she said with a knowing grin.  “He can get you to Arizona.”

Michael hesitated.  “…Really?  Like, in the state and everything?”

Glinda gave him a weird look.

“…That is what being in Arizona means, isn’t it?…But yes, I’d be very surprised if he couldn’t.”

“That’s…all I’ve ever wanted,” Michael trailed off before shaking himself out of his thoughts.  “I’ll- I’ll go to him but, uh…First,” he said.  “What’s in it for you?”

Glinda tilted her head.

“Michael from California.  My dear, dear friend, Michael from California .  All I ask…is that you do whatever it takes to get to your precious Arizona.  Whatever the wonderful wizard tells you, do it.  Understand?”

“…That’s it?”

Glinda nodded, smiling.

“Hm,” he said, suspicious of the seemingly simple request.  “Well, that kind of depends on what he’s going to ask me to do…” Michael answered warily, trained from years of experience to not accept a deal on vague terms.

“Well, I don’t know any more than you,” she said innocently, bringing her hands to her chest.  “I haven’t a clue what he might ask but all I know is that if you do what he says, he’ll make your wildest dreams come true.  At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

Michael furrowed his brow in thought and Glinda tutted softly.

“Michael from Cali fornia , I have your best interest in mind and so does the wizard.  Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that,” she said, looking around at the Munchkins, who piped in a hearty chorus of yeses and yups and absolutlies and positutlies.  “I just want you to be happy.”

Michael sighed.  He did need to find a way out of this place and this was his only lead…

“Sure, fine.  I’ll do whatever he says,” he relented.

“Good,” she said, satisfaction clear in her words.  “Now, get a move on.  It’s a long way,” she said, taking a couple steps back.

“Wait, how do I get there?”

“Easy!  Just follow the yellow brick road!”

“The yellow brick- Oh,” he said, looking down beneath him to see the spiraling path of, well, yellow brick.  “Right.  Okay, that’s easy.  Well, thanks again-” Michael began to say but Glinda was already back in her bubble and floating away.

“You’re off to see the wizard!” a Munchkin said.

“The wonderful wizard,” another said.  “The great and powerful wizard”

“I get the picture,” Michael said impatiently.  He was starting to get a little tired of their incessant enthusiasm for everything Oc.

“Well,” Michael sighed.  “I, uh…I guess I better…follow the yellow brick road.”

“Follow the yellow brick road,” a chorus sang behind him.  He gave them a weird look.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he muttered, before turning back and walking straight through the spiral and headed off, the Munchkins all descending into hiding once more.

Chapter Text

“Well, that’s just perfect,” Michael said aloud, staring ahead of him.  “How am I supposed to follow the yellow brick road if there are three of them?”

Ugh, he had a feeling the very general directions to just “follow the yellow brick road” would lead to a dilemma like this.

He walked closer to one path and squinted.

“Maybe there’s a sign that’ll tell me which way to go…”

“Yoo-hoo!” a voice said.

Michael jumped, visibly startled as he spun around, searching his surroundings for where the voice had come from.  It sounded nearby but there was no one in sight.  Just corn, crows and a scarecrow.

“Who’s there?” he shouted out.

Nothing.

“Glinda?”

It didn’t sound like her but the voice sounded feminine and she was the only woman he’d met so far in this bizarre world— well, other than… — so it was as good of a guess as he could give.  

Approaching a fence, he pushed aside some of the corn stalks and peeked through, trying to see if he could catch the mysterious speaker.  

“Any chance you know the way to the land of Oc?” he called out.

What?  He needed directions so might as well ask.

Again he was met with silence until-

“Over here!”

Michael turned back around, his eyes darting this way and that.  He took a moment to gather himself, feeling a little jittery from the whole ordeal.  Where was that voice coming from?…And where had he heard it before?

‘Over here’ wasn’t very specific, unfortunately, and Michael was still feeling quite lost.  He looked down at the road and he raised an eyebrow.

… It’s not impossible…

After taking one last look around, he knelt down and knocked on the yellow brick road, putting his ear up to it.

“I, uh, don’t know where ‘here’ is so if you could be a little more specific…”

Michael knocked and prompted the road a few more times before he sighed and he sat up.  That clearly wasn’t working and he wasn’t sure what else he could try.  And even though no one had seen he was also feeling kind of embarrassed that he’d just tried to talk to a-…

“Wait…”

Now, he didn’t see anything new.  There was still just as much corn, just as many crows and a single scarecrow but…Either his memory was failing him or the scarecrow’s arms had moved.  And not, like, blown-a-bit-by-the-wind moved.  They were arms-down-by-its-sides-to-hands-on-its-hips moved.

“It couldn’t be…” he said, standing up and taking a few steps closer.  “No.  No, it must be my-” Michael began before quickly jumping back in fright as the scarecrow sprung to life in front of his eyes.

“Finally!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation.  “Took you long enough!”

And it was then that Michael finally got a good look at the scarecrow’s face, which up until now had been cast in shadow by the floppy cap it was wearing.

 “Lindsay?” 

So she was here too…and a scarecrow, for some reason…Huh.

“‘Lindsay?’” she repeated.

“Oh, I guess that’s probably not your name-”

“No, it’s not my name!” she said incredulously.  “Like, not even close.”

“Yeah, that seems to be a running theme around here…”

“That people’s names aren’t Lindsay?”

“Er- No, I meant- Eh, ya know, it’s too complicated.”

“…So it’s that obvious then,” she said, a little dejected.

Michael furrowed his brow.

“What’s obvious?”

She looked up at him for a moment before waving him off.

“It’s nothing.  Anyway, I’m just glad someone finally noticed me.”

“Well, yeah, it was pretty easy once you started moving around.”

“Yep,” she said, jaw clenched.  “That’s something new I’ve been trying cause everyone just walks by without a second thought otherwise.”

“Well, I mean…You are a scarecrow.”

“ The Scarecrow.”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“You’re the only scarecrow ever?” Michael asked rhetorically.

“No,” she scoffed.  “That’s my name.”

“Your name is the Scarecrow?”

“Well, you only use ‘the’ when it makes sense to use it, but yes.”

Michael blinked.

“Alrighty then,” he said.  “But I should get a pass for not realizing that was what you meant, okay?  It’s confusing since you literally are a scarecrow, which was my point in the first place.”

“And what point is that?”

“Well, you’re a scarecrow, right?  People don’t pay much attention to those.”  At her dejected look, he amended, “But I’m sure crows notice you.”

The Scarecrow barked a laugh.

“You’d think!  But they just act like I’m not even here,” she said, gesturing around her.  Michael looked around the cornfields, yellow peppered with black blotches.  “I pose all day long and it’s like they don’t even care,” she scoffed.  “I swear they’re ignoring me on purpose.”

Michael furrowed his brow.

“…They’re birds.  What do you expect them to do?”

“I don’t know, but I expect something ,” she said, exasperated.

“Also, it kinda sounds like they don’t notice you cause you aren’t trying to scare them off, which is supposed to be your job, if I’m not mistaken.”

“What, and leave the poor crows to starve?  Where’s your humanity?”

“…There are other things to eat than corn; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know…” she started heatedly, trailing off.  “But maybe I don’t wanna willfully subject myself to judgment, okay?”

The Scarecrow sighed.

“It’s just…No one ever sees me for me…” she began wistfully.  “Or bothers to give me a second glance…All because I’m ugly and fat.”

Michael paused.

“I…I don’t think that’s it.”

“Well, what other reason could it be?”

“Not to sound like a broken record, but I don’t think it’s anything deeper than, ‘You’re a scarecrow.’”

“God, you’re such a reductionist,” she scoffed.  “I’m more than just a scarecrow.  I have dreams, and- and ambition! ”

“For what?” Michael questioned doubtfully.

His doubt proved to be rightfully assumed.

“Well, I- I don’t know, something with activism, but I can’t really make up my mind on what exactly I’d aim for.”

“Hm.”

“There are a lot of problems in this world, okay?…I know I’d have ambition if I figured that out, though, and that counts for something!”

“So lemme get this straight,” Michael said.  “You have things you want to do, but you aren’t sure exactly what they are and you aren’t doing anything to figure that out?” Michael said. 

“No, I…” she started, shaking her head only to reluctantly nod a second later.  

“Are you sure you’re actually interested in the issues themselves or is this just about getting attention?”

“Two things can be true at once, ya know,” she muttered, looking down at the ground below her.

“Well, if you do care, then you should put in some effort, right?  I’m certain you could do something worthwhile!”

She looked up for a moment before looking back down, her expression softening slightly. 

“But it seems so far, you haven’t done much of anything so what are you expecting people to look at you for when you’re just lazing around on this pole all day long?”

 “Well, they’d have something to look at if I was actually hot,” she grumbled.  “Also, I…I can’t really get down on my own,” she said, looking behind her.

“Oh,” Michael said sheepishly.  “Well- yeah, that’s…That’s a fair excuse.”

“If I could get down, then I’d do stuff worth people looking at me for.  Really make a difference in this world!”

“Right, all those dreams of yours,” Michael snarked, walking around back and looking at the large nail that was keeping her propped up there.  “So do you want me to…?”

She glanced behind her before rolling her head and sighing.

“…I guess, if you want.”

“So driven,” Michael said dryly.   “Alright, I just gotta…Figure out how this works,” he said, beginning to jostle it around.

A couple seconds of silence passed by.

“Just so you know, it’s more complicated than not putting in effort,” the Scarecrow said, the twinge of self-importance in her tone replaced with vulnerability.  “I would love to get out there and make things better for everyoOAH!” she said as she tumbled to the ground into a somersault.  She huffed when she saw all the hay that had spilled out of her and she sighed as she begrudgingly stuffed it back in.  “But it just isn’t worth trying when you’re full of hay,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Well, I think a couple more stitches could help with that.”

“Ugh, not the hay falling out!” she said annoyedly, wobbling her way back up.  “I mean, it’s definitely a pain in the butt but when I say I’m full of hay, I don't just mean my torso, arms and legs!  My…My head’s full of it too!” she said, looking to the ground shamefully.

“And…what does that mean?”

“It means I don’t have a brain!  I’m fat and dumb.”

“Once again, you aren’t fat, and surely you aren’t dumb.  And even for most that are, it’s never too late to start learning.”

“Uh, I just told you I don’t have a brain.  I can’t learn if I don’t have a brain!”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t be able to talk either, not to mention be alive .  So…I dunno, your logic here seems a little flawed.”

“Well, I don’t have a brain to think logically with so how was I supposed to know that?  I mean, duh!  God, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t have any brains either,” she said, waving him off.  “Just trust me, when it comes to brains, I’m hopeless.”

“If you say so…” Michael said.

“It’s why I wish I was in better shape.”

“I mean…You’re not even that lumpy for a scarecrow.”

“Yeah, but I could be lump less !  Or have more lumps in the right places,” she said frankly, adjusting her hay around.

“Ugh,” Michael said, wrinkling his nose. 

“Hey, at least then I’d have a chance at making a difference.  But that’s a lost cause,” she said defeatedly.  “God, I just wish I-”

“Had a brain?”

“Was hot,” she said in unison, furrowing her brow and looking over at Michael.  “Was that- Did I not make that clear?”

“I had a little faith in you.”

The Scarecrow shrugged.

“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want a brain, if you are actually missing it.  Wouldn't that lead to a more fulfilling life?”

“God, you men just don’t get it,” she sighed, shaking her head.  “Like, being ditzy isn’t something I’m happy with but being well-rounded wouldn’t make being well rounded any easier,” she said, gesturing to her stomach.  “I mean, look at me, a hideous monster, alone in a field of crows who either don’t pay me any mind or fly away in fear.  And people don’t pay attention to me either.  At least I’d get some kind of positive attention if I was attractive but…Like I said, lost cause.”

“And self acceptance is out of the question?”

“Well, I would probably accept the fact that I’m brainless-”

“If that even is a fact,” Michael mumbled.

“-if I actually was hot but I’m not.  And it’s kinda hard to accept yourself when others don’t accept you.”

“…I think you’re missing the whole point of self acceptance…”

“Ugh, you’re really gonna make me do a whole song and dance about this, huh?” she said, with a sigh.  “Alright then.”

Oh, I want to be a hottie

Not have this shlumpy body

Hay fills every cran’ and crook.

People’d stop just to stay-er

At my boobs and done up hay-er

If I only had the looks

Oh, to men, I would appeal

They’d fall head over heels

Sinker, line and hook

I would flaunt and I would saunter

And they’d say, “No one can taunt her”

If I only had the looks

Of course, I’d be much more than just a pretty face

But a body is worth much more than a brain

You give a wink

And problems go away

Oh, I long to be accepted

Not all ugly and rejected

Much rather put down the book

Cause I want people to love me

But that could only possibly

Happen if I had the looks

As the Scarecrow finished her spiel, she just about toppled over but thankfully, caught her balance.  Michael clapped a few times halfheartedly.

“I’m genuinely surprised you didn’t fall over once during that,” Michael said, a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, the hay makes it hard to stand sometimes.  Not a lot of support.  Plus, I’ve already removed a bunch so that’s made things harder…”

“That’s um…Okay,” Michael said uncomfortably.  “You probably shouldn’t do that.”

“Mmm, thank you for that revolutionary piece of advice,” she said sarcastically.

“Hey, I was just trying to help!”

“Yeah, but it’s just annoying to be told something I already know.  Just saying. ”

“Right, my bad, I’ll just stand by next time and feed into your insecurities instead of trying to help fix the problem.”

…Maybe some of that was aimed more at his Lindsay than this lookalike.

The Scarecrow just gave him a look and didn’t say anything.

Michael just shook his head, thinking to himself.  He really had to get going but he felt kind of bad just leaving that conversation off like that.  He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t really Lindsay, though, and this scarecrow’s business wasn’t any of his.  

“Well, uh…I’m gonna get going now.  I’m off to see the Wizard.”

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oc?”

“Yeah, that one,” Michael sighed.

“Like, see-him see-him?”

“Mhmm.  He’s gonna help me get to Arizona.”  

“Woah,” the Scarecrow said in awe, before suddenly wrinkling her nose.  “Wait, Arizona?  Why would you wanna go there?”

“Cause I think my son and I would like living there,” he shrugged.  

The Scarecrow stared at him doubtfully.  

“We’re thinking of the same place right?”

“Arizona’s not that bad.”

“Have you been to Arizona?”

“Well…no but- Wait, have you been to Arizona?”

“God, no.  I may not have any brains but I’m smart enough to know I’d never wanna go there, which is why I’m confused as to why the hell you want to live there.”

“It’s complicated,” he said, waving her off.  “My wife’s from there-”

“And you’re just letting her move you all there?”

“Hmm?  Oh, no, she’s- she’s dead…She’s just from there.”

“Oh,” she said, suddenly tilting her head and looking almost comically concerned.  She put a hand on his shoulder.  “I’m so sorry.”

“Ovarian cancer, ya know…It’s- I’m fine.  Happened a year ago by now.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve all been there…”

“Um, anyway, that was a bit of a downer.  Sorry about that,” he said.

“I forgive you,” she said, removing her hand.  Michael gave her a small glare.  “But yeah,” she admitted with a sigh.  “I guess that probably is a pretty good reason to want to go to Arizona.”

“It is,” Michael said.

“Yeah…” she trailed off and they stood in awkward silence for a moment.

“So I was thinking,” she began suddenly, her tone jarringly peppier.

“Hm?” Michael said, his mind still far off.

“Do you think…Do you think if I went with you to see the Wizard, he could make me hot?”

Michael blinked, feeling a bit of emotional whiplash from the sudden change in topic.

“I…” he trailed off, not exactly sure what to say.  “I guess he…probably could?  Although, I don’t really want to encourage you to-”

“Perfect!” she said, cutting him off before he could finish what he had to say.  “Oh, I just realized, I never got your name.”

“Well, it’s Michael.”

“Michael from…Er, I guess you aren’t from Arizona…Not yet at least.”

“I’m from California but-”

“Nice to meet you, Michael from California.  So, can I please come with you?” she said, tilting her head and batting her eyelashes.

Michael sighed.  It would be nice to have some company.

“Just as long as you don’t make that face again.”

“Ugh, yes!  You’re literally a life saver, Michael from California.”

“It’s the least I can do…Now,” he said, looking ahead.  “Which way do we go?”

“Do you not have directions?”

“Well, I was told to follow the yellow brick road-”

“Follow the yellow brick road?”

“-Er, yes…But of course, there are three yellow brick roads so how am I supposed to know which yellow brick road is the right yellow brick road?” he sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets.  “I was hoping there would be, like, a sign or something but I didn’t see anything…Maybe the path without the trees since it’s a city so there’d be…less trees?”

The Scarecrow rolled her eyes.

“I’m not the brightest so take this with a grain of salt, but I think you’re overthinking it, Michael from California.  All three ways are yellow brick roads.”

“…So?”

 “ So any way you go, you’re following the yellow brick road,” she said, sashaying towards the path she was closest to, which led towards the forest.  Michael tentatively followed.

“I mean, maybe…But I don’t wanna be set back if it turns out it is the wrong way.”

“Well, it’s not gonna do us any better to sit here and do nothing at all.”

Michael nodded.

“…Fair enough.  Well, let’s-”

“Follow the yellow brick road?” the Scarecrow said, linking her arm with Michael’s.

“I was gonna say get going but sure.  Let’s follow the yellow brick road.”

Chapter Text

“God, how long is it til Emerald City again?” the Scarecrow complained.

“I told you, I don’t know.  I just know it’s a while.”

“Ugh, I’m starting to regret coming along,” she said tiredly.

 “Yeah, it would’ve been nice-” Michael said, also exhausted and slightly short of breath.  “Would’ve been nice to have some form of transportation.”

As they rounded the corner, Michael spotted a grove of plum trees.

“Oh, hey, plums,” Michael said, perking up.  “Just what we need right now, eh?” he said, turning to the Scarecrow with a smile.

Quickly, he began making his way over but stopped short when he noticed the Scarecrow wasn’t following him, still standing in the middle of the road, checking her nails(did she even have nails?).

“What, you can’t pick your own plums?” Michael said, his hands on his hips.

“Hm?” she said, looking up at him.  “Oh, I can’t eat.”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Come on, L- Scarecrow.  You’re not gonna gain weight if you eat a single plum.”

“Huh?  Oh, no, I mean, I literally can’t eat.  I don’t have a digestive system.”

“Oh…” Michael said.  He narrowed his eyes.

“Honest,” she said, crossing her heart.

He stared for a second longer but eventually relented.

“Alright,” he sighed before continuing over to the trees.  He stopped underneath a branch and began looking for a good plum to pick.  “I kind of feel bad…” he said to himself.

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t wanna steal.  This is probably someone’s property,” he said, gesturing to the fence.

“Then don’t take any then,” she said, looking over to Michael, who stood there, looking at her with a frown.  “What?”  He just shook his head with a sigh and looked back to the tree.

“I mean, even if it is, it’s not like they’d notice a few plums are missing,” Scarecrow said, rolling her eyes.  “No one’s here to witness the thievery.”

“It’s the principle of it,” Michael shrugged before looking back at the tree.  “Weird…”

“What now?” Scarecrow asked.

“Nah, it’s nothing.  I just noticed there’s still a bag around the base of this one, ” he said as he strained to reach a plum, up on his tippy toes.  

“Okay?  And why is that weird?”

“It’s weird because usually, those are only for newly planted-”

“Greetings!”

“AH!” Michael shouted, stumbling back and falling over in the dirt.  “Did that tree just…”  He squinted his eyes.  “Tobias?”

“It seems you have mistaken me, young man,” said the plum tree, the rough details of Tobias’ face smiling back at him from the bark of the trunk.  “My name is not Tobias.  In fact, no one ever bestowed a title upon me.  I just…am.”

Michael shook his head after he dusted himself off.

“I keep forgetting I’m not in California…” he muttered to himself.

“So, I suppose my fruit has become the apple, or shall I say, plum of your eye, ay?” the plum tree said.  “Well,” he laughed.  “I’ll be happy to share my seed with you.  I hope you brought napkins.”

Michael wrinkled his nose and looked back at Scarecrow, who had a similar look of disgust on her face.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” Michael said, backing up towards the road, where Scarecrow was stood and clearly very ready to leave.

“Wait, no, stay a while!  It’s been so long since I- Do you need any directions?  Or help with anything else?  I’m very good at helping.”

“I highly doubt that.  And we don’t need any help,” Michael said.

“Well, I highly doubt that , handsome sir.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Understood,” he laughed.  “Just- Let me explain.  I’m sure you can see by looking at the size of my wood that I’m very well endowed-”

“Jesus Christ.”

“-with years and years of life experience and it’s made me very wise.  Now, it seems you two have somewhere to be but I’d hate to leave you both with nothing and if you do not desire to chew on my fruit, then mayhaps I can chew on your troubles.”

“There will be no chewing from any party, thank you very much,” the Scarecrow said.  “Plus, we already have someone who’s gonna solve our problems.”

“Really?  Who?”

“Oc,” Michael said impatiently.  “And we really need to get going cause-”

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oc?”

“Mhmm,” Michael droned.  “That’s him alright.”

“I’ve heard whispers of that name through the grapevine but I don’t know much about this Oc fellow.  What has brought you to seek him out?”

“Well, he’s gonna make me hotter.”

“And he’s gonna get me to Arizona.”

“He’s from California,” the Scarecrow added.

“Hmm,” the plum tree said, thinking to himself for a moment.  Michael and the Scarecrow looked at each other and then back at the tree.

“What?” Michael said.

“Well, I guess my first question is for you, Scarecrow.”

The Scarecrow perked up at the acknowledgment.

“Why is it that you want to be ‘hotter’?”

“Duh.  Because I’m ugly,” she said, looking down at herself.  Michael rolled his eyes.

“Who told you that?”

The Scarecrow paused, a puzzled expression on her face.  She tilted her head to the side.

“…Why…Why do you ask?” she asked, suddenly softening and brushing her blonde, straw hair behind a nonexistent ear.  “Do you…think I’m pretty?”

“Wait, hold on, what is happening right now?” Michael said, looking between the two.

“Well, I’m sure many would consider you a fine, young mistress but let’s focus on the task on hand.  Who told you you were ugly?”

“I…I don’t know,” she said.  “Myself?”

“People aren’t born hating how they look, though.  So you must’ve gotten the idea from somewhere.”

The Scarecrow looked down at her feet and fidgeted with her fingers.

“Oftentimes, people try to find control in obsessing over their appearance, believing that will make them feel better; but on the contrary!  Being ‘hotter’ won’t solve your problems.  In the end, you’ll still be unsatisfied because really, this dissatisfaction with your outer self is not a rational want to have a makeover of sorts, it stems from some kind of dissatisfaction with your inner self, which cannot be solved with makeup or losing weight.  Continuing to feed into whatever is fueling this insecurity won’t do you any good since it will never be satisfied.”

The Scarecrow didn’t respond but looked to be thinking to herself, her eyes darting around.

“You see, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell her-” Michael interjected, only to be cut off himself.

“And you,” the plum tree said, looking over to Michael.  “What in the blazes is making you want to go to Arizona because,” he trailed off, laughing, much to Michael’s unamusement.  “I just can’t understand that logic.”

“My dead wife is from there,” Michael said flatly.

“Oh, really?” the plum tree said curiously, abruptly stopping his laughter.  He thought to himself.  “But the Arizona of it all aside, that’s what you’re wishing for?  Couldn’t you just…drive there?”

“I’ve-…This is easier, trust me,” he said, waving him off.

The tree pursed his lips, thinking.

“…So is it for family, or is it cheaper there than where you currently live-”

“I just- I think I’ll like it there better, that’s all,” Michael said, gesturing generally, not keen on getting into the details with this tree.

“But why?   I mean, if this is about being happy, California is already home to the happiest place on Earth.”

Michael looked at him blankly.

“Sorry, not the time for jokes…Well, sir from California-”

“It’s Michael.”

“Oh, pardon me: Michael from California.”

“Wha- No, that’s not what I-”

“Here’s a question I have for you: Are you sure this doesn’t have to do with any unresolved grief from her-”

“Alright, nope, don’t wanna hear it,” Michael said loudly, enough to startle the Scarecrow from her thoughts.  “That’s- That is bullshit, I’m not still grieving my wife who died a year ago!  God, the nerve- Come on, Scarecrow, let’s go.”

The Scarecrow gave the plum tree one last look before clumsily running to catch up with Michael who’d already marched a good way down the trail.

“Slow down!” the Scarecrow said, trying her best to keep balance.

“Sorry,” Michael said, slowing his pace.  “It’s just- God, that tree is spewing such- such bullcrap,” he hissed.  “Who just says stuff like that?  Like he knows everything about me and how I feel about my wife.  Or- or why I want to go to Arizona.  It’s not even about her!”

“Yeah, if he’s wrong, then that’s kinda overstepping…” she said, a little hesitantly.

“He is wrong,” Michael affirmed.  “It’s not…It’s not about my ‘grief’.  I grieved.  I’m done grieving.  No more grief.  She just lived there as a kid and so…I think it’ll be a good place for me and my son!  And I’ll no longer have to put up with my family, which is the main reason I wanna go there, by the way,” he said, looking over to the Scarecrow with a pointed look.  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to leave a family like mine.”

The Scarecrow tilted her head, not so much interested in Michael’s troubles as she was intrigued to hear about family drama.

“What’s your family like?”

“Frustrating,” Michael sighed.  “On the low end, there’s my sister, which doesn’t really say much when it comes to my family but…”

The Scarecrow nodded.

“She’s better than the others.  She’s…capable.  I know she has drive.  But she’s just,” he paused, glancing over at the Scarecrow.  “…focused on the wrong things, which is a running theme among my siblings.  It’s frustrating, though, because with her, I know she has the potential to do great things or at least…do things, period, but she just always takes the easy route…But I dunno, we’re twins so I guess we have a special bond and I think that helps soften it.  Now, my two brothers…It’d be a miracle if either of them became independent.”

“Are they twins too?”

“Far from it,” Michael laughed.  “They’re six years apart.  And their similarities stop at them being incredibly dependent; otherwise, they couldn’t be more different.”

Michael sighed.

“But at least Buster, the youngest, doesn’t complain when he’s treated how he acts, which is like a child.  And he doesn’t suck so much as he’s just hard to manage sometimes; crippling panic attacks, issues like that…Gob, my oldest brother, he’s…Well, to not mince words, he’s kind of an idiot,” he paused, looking over at the Scarecrow.  “No offense.”

“None taken,” she sighed.

“He’s- he’s entirely incompetent.  He never tries or puts in any effort, in any way shape or form, and then he complains and cries about not being included.  But then when we do include him, he just screws everything up or just doesn’t follow through.  I’m 99% sure he’s not even actually interested in any of the stuff he complains about us not including him in so I don’t even know why he gets so upset about it.  God, he’s just…He’s impossible.”

“Sounds it,” the Scarecrow said, nodding.  Admittedly, she’d started to get bored and had begun to tune him out.

“And my parents have flaws, of course.  My mom…You wouldn’t wanna meet her.  She’s critical of everyone and everything.  And my dad…He can be a bit tough to impress and he can be harsh at times but he’s at least got our best interest in mind…most of the time.  But what makes everything especially hard is that my siblings are always causing some kind of fuss with them so I’m constantly having to mediate and make sure a fight doesn’t break out,” he sighed.  

“And it’s like they don’t understand that if they actually kept quiet and stayed in line, then we wouldn’t have these problems.  Like, yes, our mom and dad aren’t perfect, understatement of the year, but we’re full grown adults!  They should be able to handle their emotions better by now!”

“Like, god, Gob in particular, he’ll throw a whole pity party about the most minor things.  And even Lindsay-”

The Scarecrow furrowed her brow.

“-I tell her to not listen to what our mom says but it goes in one ear, out the other.  For Gob too.  And Buster’s more than fine to just be our mom’s pet his whole life, even though I’ve encouraged him to try and be a little more independent.  But why would they ever listen to me, right?  God, I mean, we all grew up in the same house and I grew up to be perfectly functional so I don’t understand why they just can’t seem to manage even the simplest things!”

“Hm…So, do you mean, like, argument fights, or fist fights?” the Scarecrow asked after a moment, that being the only part she’d tuned back in for.  Well, except…

Eh, it’s probably nothing…

Michael gave her a look and sighed.

“Depends.”

“ Really? ”

“Yes, really,” Michael said dryly.

“Did you ever get into any fist fights?”

Michael gave her another look.

“Ya know, I’m so glad to be entertaining you with tales of my family beating each other up.”

“Well, I’ve been stuck up on that pole my whole life so sorry I’m enjoying hearing something that isn’t just the sound of crows,” she said defensively.  “And come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t wanna know all the details if someone was talking to you about this.”

“If someone was talking to me about this, I’d tell them I was sorry they have to deal with that and not pressure them to talk anymore about it.”

The Scarecrow rolled her eyes.

“Geez, I’m sorry, okay?  I was just trying to have a conversation,” she said, holding her hands up, looking at Michael and raising an eyebrow.  “Which you clearly don’t wanna have since you’re not even listening to me right now.”

Michael stopped suddenly and looked around alertly.  The Scarecrow furrowed her brow.

“Sorry,” he trailed off, starting to walk again.  “I swear, I heard someone…”

“Someone?  Like, a voice?”

“I…Maybe?  I dunno, it was more like a hum.  It was probably nothing.”

“ Yeah , I mean, we’re in the woods, you’re gonna hear all sorts of-”

“Mmmm!”

This time, they both stopped.

“Okay, I heard that .”

They looked around them, scanning the tree line when suddenly, just up ahead and through the trees, Michael spotted something.

“Do you think it’s another tree?” the Scarecrow asked, turning around when she felt Michael tap her shoulder. 

“Look over there,” Michael said.  She squinted her eyes.

“What is that?”

“I dunno,” Michael said, squinting at it, himself.  “My best guess right now is a robot.”

“A robot?” the Scarecrow said, giving him a weird look.

“Well, it’s gray and vaguely man shaped and you’re a living Scarecrow so I feel it’s just as good a guess as any.”

“Fair enough, I guess.”

Slowly, they crept towards the gray, vaguely man shaped thing, which, as they grew closer, did indeed become identifiable as a man made of some sort of metal.  He was lying down on a bench, draped over it in a position Michael couldn’t possibly imagine was comfortable.  

Michael could also see that he looked exactly like his older brother, Gob.

“Well, would you look at that,” he said, giving the metal Gob lookalike’s arm a knock, a hollow sound ringing out.  “He really is a robot.”

“Mmmm mmm!”

“A rusted robot, it seems,” the Scarecrow added.  “What’s he trying to say?  I didn’t quite catch it.”

Scarecrow leaned in to listen.

“Mmm mmm!”

“I think…I think he’s trying to say ‘oil can’.”

“You could understand that?” Michael asked.

“You couldn’t?”

Michael shrugged.

“I mean, I’ll take your word for it.”

His eyes searched the surrounding area and suddenly, on a nearby stump, he noticed said oil can and grabbed it.

“Where do you wanna be oiled first?” the Scarecrow asked.

“Mmm!”

“…Mouth, I think he said mouth.”

Michael pursed his lips.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Maybe he was saying he wanted his mouth kept shut.”

“Mm mmm mm mm mmm mmm.”

“He’s saying…‘No, Don’t leave my mouth shut.  Please, oil it right now, please help’.”

Michael sighed.

“Fine…”

Michael took the can and spattered the robot’s face with oil.  As he did, the robot began moving his jaw back and forth as he slowly regained mobility.  After a couple seconds, he began to try and speak.

“Sh- Sh-”

“What’s he trying to say?” the Scarecrow said.

Michael furrowed his brow.  

“Sh- shou- should-”

“Should?” the Scarecrow said, tilting her head.

Michael groaned.  “Oh, I see,” he sighed.  “Just give him a minute.”

“Should the guy- should- should the guy made of- made- made of-”

“Is he short circuiting or something?” the Scarecrow said, looking over to Michael.

“Shh, you got this, pal.  Come on,” Michael said gently, his bothered countenance betraying his words of encouragement.  But his Gob hardly ever noticed so there was a good chance this one wouldn’t either.  “Get it all out.”

“Should the guy made of t-t-tin have to- to- to tell- to t-tell people he’s not a rrr-rrrobot?  Come on!  I’m the Tin Man not the- not the- the Robot Man.  Come on!”

“My mistake,” Michael said, instinctually giving the Tin Man a pat on the shoulder, which seemed to sufficiently quell the Tin Man’s frustrations.  Michael then went to oil his other joints.  

“Here, Scarecrow, get his other side.”

Quickly, they were able to sit the Tin Man upright, the metal screeching as he did.

“Oh, god, that’s so much more comfortable,” he said, stretching a little as they continued.

“Yeah, maybe sitting properly would’ve helped with that,” Michael said as he helped start to move the Tin Man’s left leg.

“Well, any position’s gonna be uncomfortable when you’re stuck in it for a year.”

“You’ve been rusted here for a year?” the Scarecrow asked.

“Well, I don’t know the exact amount of time,” he said defensively.  “What do you think, I kept track of all of the days?  I’m not some sort of math magician,” he said, waving his hands, his fingers still rusted together.

“I think you mean mathematician,” Michael corrected.

“Uh, I think I know what I’m talking about, okay, smart guy?” he sighed.  “Anyway, it’s not like no one was looking for me or anything, if that’s what you were implying,” he said, looking over at the Scarecrow and reassuming a nonchalant tone.  

“I mean, I wasn’t implying that, or thinking that, but the fact that you said that makes me think that’s the case,” the Scarecrow said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not.  I have friends.  A guy could disappear for a year or something and no one notice, ya know.  Happens all the time.”

“Does it?”

“To me it does.”

“Hm,” the Scarecrow said, raising an eyebrow.  “So what, did you get caught in a storm or something?”

“Yep.  I had been staying with this chick.  It was just meant to be a place to stay in the meantime, not a permanent situation.”  He rolled his eyes.  “God, she was annoying.  Like, she got all clingy -” he said, grimacing a little before quickly clearing his throat.  “But I was into it,” he quickly added.

“The sex was great,” he continued hastily, nervously laughing.  “The sex is always great with the crazy ones, right?”  The way he’d said it made it almost sound like a genuine question.

The Scarecrow and Michael exchanged a confused look but the Tin Man didn’t seem to notice, sighing, his anxieties apparently having been quelled.

“Anyway, she finally kicked me out cause apparently I wasn’t ‘invested in the relationship’,” the Tin Man said, trying to do air quotes only to remember they hadn’t oiled his fingers yet.

“I mean, it kinda sounds like you weren’t” Michael said with a sigh, taking an arm so he could get his fingers unstuck.

“Careful, I make a living with my hands,” the Tin Man warned before continuing.  “And I mean, yeah, but it’s not my fault I’m more into the thrill of the hunt than settling down!  Anyway, I wasn’t able to find anywhere to crash— not cause I don’t have any friends I could stay with, they just all have…limited space.  Uh, and then it rained while I was sleeping out here and I was stuck here for a year or so, all thanks to that clingy bitch.”

“Right, this is her fault…Jesus, what is wrong with your fingers?” Michael said, only just getting them to move more.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” the Tin Man said quickly.

Michael narrowed his eyes.

“You know, if you want to convince people of something, maybe try not bringing attention to it.”

“I’m not broken,” the Tin man reaffirmed.  “And my fingers work fine once they’re unrusted,” the Tin Man said, waving Michael off with his other hand, which Michael then took to start working on.

“You know, if you care so much about your hands, you should maybe consider getting a house of your own so they don’t get all wet?” Michael said, the Tin Man averting his eyes shamefully.  “Also so, uh, you don’t end up getting stuck somewhere for a whole year, or more.”

“Well, it’s not like I don’t have a house on purpose or something,” the Tin Man said as Michael and the Scarecrow helped him up.  “I’m not exactly at a point in my career where I’m making too much money.”

“And this career is?” Michael prompted.

“Being a magician!” the Tin Man said, gesturing dramatically.

“Of course…”

“But when I make it big and I’m finally a famous magician, I won’t have to worry about not having a place to stay.”

“We’re using the word ‘when’, huh,” Michael said.  “Well, alternatively, you could get a stable, higher paying job now and save yourself a lifetime of couch-hopping.” 

The Tin Man scowled.

“Oh, yeah- yeah, you think you’re so funny, huh?  Well, guess what, I’ll be the one having the last laugh when I actually do become famous and have millions of fans who love me,” the Tin Man said before storming off…

It was a very short lived storming, taking only one step before he got stuck.

“Godammit,” the Tin Man said, trying to get his knee to move, but it wouldn’t budge.  He looked over at the two expectantly.  “Uh, hello,” he said, gesturing down at his knee.

“Ever heard of ‘please’?” Michael droned.

The Tin Man scoffed.  

“I’m a magician, not a lawyer, guy.  No need to be such a smartass,” the Tin Man huffed.

“…What?”

“I need one of you to oil my knee!”

“No, I know that, but-” Michael said before shaking his head.  “Whatever,” he said, going to pick up the oil can from where they’d placed it on the bench.

“Geez, took you long enough,” the Tin Man grumbled.  Michael, who’d just picked up the oil can, suddenly stopped, thought for a second before putting the oil can down, which the Tin Man could only just see him out of the corner of his eye.  “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Come on, Scarecrow.”

“Where are you going?” the Tin Man asked, starting to sound panicked.  “Don’t- don’t leave.”

“Sorry, but, ehh,” Michael said with a shrug.  “I don’t feel like helping you.”

“Come on!  You can’t leave me here like this!”

“Maybe if you’d been nicer…”

“B-but that’s not my fault!” the Tin Man said started to tear up.

“Oh, really?” Michael said doubtfully.  

“Y-yeah!”

“Alright, then.  Explain to me how you being a jerk this whole time isn’t your fault.”

“Well, it’s not like I was the one who forgot to give me a heart!”

Michael opened his mouth to say something back but paused.

“…Wait, what?”

“What, do you have bees in your ears?  I said I don’t have a heart!”

“No heart?” the Scarecrow asked.

“No heart!  See for yourself,” he said, gesturing to his torso.  “Bang on my chest…And maybe oil my knee…”

The Scarecrow and Michael looked at each other, before reluctantly walking back over to the Tin Man.  The Scarecrow grabbed the oil can and squirted some on his knee while Michael knocked on his chest and it rang hollowly.

“See!” the Tin Man said as he loosened his knee.  “Ah, much better,” he smiled, adjusting his stance so he was no longer midstep.

“Huh,” the Scarecrow said.

“Well, it has a lovely echo,” Michael said sarcastically, little to the Tin Man’s amusement.  

“Yeah, cause I’m all hollow!  I can’t be tender or- or gentle or in any way sentimental!” he said, wiping away a tear.  “…I know it might surprise you but…I was lying about…having friends.”

The Scarecrow put a hand to his chest in feigned shock.

“I never would’ve guessed,” Michael said flatly.

“Everyone I talk to is either immediately sick of me or becomes sick of me and I just wish I could be kinda- kinda human, ya know?” he said, a smile twitching on his lips.

“Okay, but…what does any of that have to do with not having a heart?”

“‘What does-’  What do you mean ‘what does any of that have to do with not having a heart?’…I- What was your name again?”

“It’s really just Michael,” Michael said, looking between the Tin Man and the Scarecrow.

“Hm.  Interesting name.”

“I mean, not really but I guess-”

“Well alright, Really Just Michael-”

“Wait, have I been calling you the wrong thing this whole time?”

Really Just Michael sighed.

“-tell me this: Do you have a heart?”

“…Yes.”

“And do you care about others?”

“…I do.”

“And what about you…”  He gestured expectantly.

“Scarecrow.”

“Scarecrow,” he repeated.  “Do you have a heart?  Do you care?”

The Scarecrow looked down at herself.

“Well, yeah, of course…I mean, I am an activist.”

“Debatably,” Michael muttered under his breath, getting a look from the Scarecrow.

The Tin Man gestured as if to conclude his argument.

“Also, you have a heart but no digestive system?” Michael said, eyeing the Scarecrow, who notably ignored that statement.  He shook his head turning back to the Tin Man.  

“Correlation isn’t causation.”

The Tin Man tilted his head.  Michael sighed.

“Just because those two things are true about me doesn’t mean one is causing the other.  I’m a nice person cause I choose to be a nice person.  You can do the same thing.”

“Well then how come no matter what I do or how I act, I’m wrong and bad and annoying and a jerk?  I’m telling you, there’s nothing I can do!”  He sighed.  “I’m just broken…Entirely unlikeable…Forever cursed to drive everyone away…” he said dramatically, staring off into the distance.

“But that’s exactly why I need to become a famous magician.” he said, suddenly gaining back a vibrant energy.  “If I was famous, then none of that would matter!  Everyone would love me!”

“I mean, not really, though.  It’s not the same as loving someone you actually know.”

“Well, yeah, guy, that’s the entire point.  You can’t hate what you don’t know.  And since it’s impossible for anyone to love a heartless tin man such as myself, it makes it the perfect solution!”

Even though I act real cocky-

“Oh, shit,” the Tin Man said, nearly stumbling over, being caught by Michael before he could topple over.

“God, you’re heavy for someone who’s hollow,” Michael said as he helped him stand back upright, doing his best to balance him.

“I thought you guys oiled these things,” the Tin Man said, looking down at the opposite knee from before, jammed like the other had been.

“We did,” Michael said, looking over to the Scarecrow expectantly.  She still was still holding the oil can.

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job,” the Tin Man scoffed.  When Michael glared at him, he added a “no offense”.

Michael looked back over at the Scarecrow, who was futzing around with her glove.  He sighed and walked over.

“Try not to fall,” he told Tin Man, who wobbled a little when Michael took his hand off his shoulder.

“I’m not a baby, I can stand,” the Tin Man said.

“I’m so proud,” he said dismissively before taking the oil can from the Scarecrow.  “Thanks for bringing me the oil can.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, looking up briefly with a smile before returning to, again, examining her glove.

“You know you don’t have any nails, right?” Michael said, but it seemed the Scarecrow had already tuned him out.

Michael rolled his eyes and walked back over, the Tin Man stood with his arms out to balance himself, but sticking them by his sides when he saw Michael coming.

And then immediately starting to teeter.  Thankfully, once again, Michael caught him.

“Geez, I’m fine, guy…” the Tin Man huffed, Michael keeping a hand behind the Tin Man’s back as he oiled his knee.  “I told you, I can stand on my own.”

“Sure you can,” Michael said, standing up. 

“Hey, while you’re at it, could you get my face and hand?” the Tin Man asked before moving his jaw back and forth a little.  “I can feel them starting to freeze up.”  

Michael sighed.

Finally back at full mobility, the Tin Man bent his leg and waggled his fingers a couple times, smiling.

“You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, totally,” the Tin Man said.  “Alright, uh…”  He paused, his eyes darting around.  “What was I talking about again?”

“You said something about how you’re a heartless tin man-”

“Right, which is why I’m gonna be a famous magician, yes, I remember now,” he said laughing, his smile fading a little at the end.  He cleared his throat.

Even though I act real cocky

I’m really a nobody

Whose life is filled with shame

But I’d be so ador-ed

Celebrated by the world

If they only knew my name

Instead, I’ve been stuck he-yer

All cast out, made to feel que-yer

And by queer I mean strange

Just- just in case you were thinking something else-

But perhaps, fans would follow

And I wouldn’t feel so hollow

If they only knew my name

Picture me, before a sea of people in the crowd

“It’s the final countdown”

They all love me

Parasocially…

Oh, they might not know me closely

But those who know me mostly

They all just run away

People’d think I was great

And they’d brush of my mistakes

If they only knew my name

The Tin Man, posed dramatically, hands up in the air and feet shoulder width apart, breathing heavily.  He held the pose for a couple seconds.

“So you guys have that song here too, huh?” Michael muttered to himself.

Breaking from the pose, the Tin Man smiled crookedly.

“So what’d you think?  I have great stage presence, right?”

“You certainly are…a presence,” Michael said.

The Tin Man beamed, in spite of the awkwardly executed “compliment”, and turned to the Scarecrow, who just blinked boredly.

“If you’re going for janky and awkward, then you’ve nailed it.”

The Tin Man frowned.

“Hey, you asked.”

“Yeah, well…You…suck.”

“And you looked ridiculous.”

“Oh, yeah- yeah, I get it.  I’m just s- I’m just a goofball, a big joker.”

“Pretty much,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, well you pretty much suck.”

“Okay, argument over,” Michael interjected.  “We gotta get going,” he said, starting to usher the Scarecrow along with him.

“You’re leaving already?” the Tin Man said, looking hurt.

“Well, we’re kind of on a tight schedule,” Michael said, gesturing vaguely with his hands.  “We’re off to see the Wizard-”

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oc?!” the Tin Man said with gravitas.

“I walked right into that one…” Michael sighed.  “Yes, him.  Very important guy, from what I’ve heard.”

“Uh, yeah,” the Tin Man scoffed, crossing his arms.  “More than just very important…So what- Why are you off to see him?”

“Well, I wanna go to Arizona.”

“And I wanna be hot.”

“So the Wizard is gonna help us with that.”

“Wha- That’s crazy,” he said, laughing.

“Well, y’know…” Michael said with a shrug.

“So this is, like, a wish granting sort of situation?”

“Yeah.”

“And he can grant…any wish, am I remembering that correctly?”

“I…assume so?” Michael said, narrowing his eyes.

“Like, just as a random example, he could…make someone a famous magician-”

“You’re not coming.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Don’t ‘oh, come on’ me.  You can’t just invite yourself onto our trip and get upset when we say you can’t come.  You’re not entitled to getting your vapid wish granted.”

“Well, I’m kinda feeling entitled with how much you’re clearly judging me.”

“…What?”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover?  Ever heard of it, ‘smart guy’?” Tin Man said, doing air quotes.

“… What? ”

The Tin Man sighed, shaking his head.

“Typical, immature Really Just Michael…Fine, I see how it is.  Go, leave without me.  See if I care.”

“I thought the whole no heart thing took care of that?”

The Tin Man scowled.

“So wait, why can’t he come?  I was only half-paying attention”

Michael turned to the Scarecrow with a questioning look.

“Well, certainly you’ve paid enough attention to not want him to come with us.”

“No, I have, but you allowed me to come for the exact same reasons you said he couldn’t so…”

“Ah- Typical, hypocritical, two-faced Really Just Michael…”

Michael narrowed his eyes.

“But- But he’s acted like a jerk this whole time.”

“Uh, yeah, Really Just Michael.  He doesn’t have a heart, remember?”

“See, she gets it.”

“I’m missing a brain, which this one couldn’t seem to wrap his head around either.”

“Yeah, cause it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, I believe you,” the Tin Man said snootily, holding his hand up for a high five, which the Scarecrow reciprocated begrudgingly.  The Tin Man looked at Michael judgmentally.  “ Unlike typical, untrusting Really Just Michael.” 

Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Listen, it really wasn’t for any personal thing I have against you,” Michael began. 

“But you said you didn’t want me to come because I was being a ‘jerk’,” he said, using air quotes.

“I- Heat of the moment thing.  I didn’t mean it.”

“Really?” the Tin Man asked hesitantly.

“Of course.  Really, it’s just that I, uh, didn’t want to…want for you to undervalue your…natural skills by assuming you needed a wish to, uh, accomplish your dreams.”

The Tin Man eyed him suspiciously, his eyes then darting around as he thought.  He looked back at him with a more pensive expression before he broke into a wide, crooked smile.

“You really mean all that?”

“…Every word,” he lied.

The Tin Man smiled even wider and suddenly Michael found himself being squeezed in a painful hug, and not just because of how tight it was; he’ll just say that he’s grateful that when he gets back, he won’t have to deal with a metal brother.

Er- Well, not when he gets back.  Cause he’s not coming back.  He’s going to Arizona, where he won’t have to deal with his brother or anyone else in his family, for that matter.

God, he’s gotta remember to stop forgetting that…

“Thanks, Really Just Michael,” the Tin Man sniffled, having teared up at some point.

“Oh, come on, buddy, we’re gonna have to oil your face all over again, now,” Michael sighed.

“Sorry,” he laughed tearfully.  “I can’t help it.”

“…It’s fine…”

The Tin Man gave one final tight squeeze.

“You’re a good friend.”

“Of course, buddy,” Michael choked out.

“So now that we’re friends,” the Tin Man said, finally letting go.  “That means I can come, right?”

Michael opened his mouth, hesitating before letting out a sigh.

“…Sure.”

The Tin Man smiled even wider before it turned to a more puzzled expression.

“So wait, your wish is to go to Arizona? ”

“His dead wife’s from there,” the Scarecrow offered.  Michael elbowed her and she gave him a look, mouthing “what?”

“To each their own…” the Tin Man muttered.

Suddenly, from up above, the three heard what could only be described as some sort of hideous screech.

“So that’s why you wanna go there?”

“What was that?” the Tin Man said, jumping a little at the noise and scanning the surroundings, inching closer to the other two.

“I dunno, but it sounded like some sort of monster,” the Scarecrow said, equally fearful.

“I was laughing, you dimwits,” a voice growled out and it was then that Michael noticed the swirling bubble coming towards them.

“Now I feel silly.  I thought it was a dinosaur,” Michael said sarcastically, as Glinda emerged from the bubble in front of them.

“Hmph,” she grunted, before her attention fell on the other two who were still cowering beside Michael.

“I see you’ve made some friends,” she said, looking scrutinizingly at them.  She looked them up and down.  “I didn’t know the yellow brick road passed by a junkyard.”

“Does it?” the Tin Man said, confused, looking over at the Scarecrow who just gave him a look.  “Hey, I’ve been stuck here for a while so how would I know that they built one!”

“Hmm, I guess I wasn’t the only thing to go over this one’s heads today,” Glinda said, tilting her head in feigned thought.

The Tin Man still looked confused and the Scarecrow elbowed him and muttered, “She wasn’t being serious, she was making fun of us; calling us junk.”

“Oh…” the Tin Man said, embarrassment hitting him.  “I- I knew that.”  He promptly decided the yellow brick road needed inspection and shifted his gaze to the ground beneath them.

Glinda held her unamused glare a moment longer, just enough to make them both visibly squirm, before turning to Michael.  “Michael from California, unless I’m mistaken, I don’t think I said anything about taking hop-ons.”

“Wait, so it is Michael from California?”

“You didn’t say anything about not taking…‘hop-ons’,” Michael countered, ignoring Scarecrow’s comment.

She pursed her lips.

“Come,” she said, waving Michael over with her finger.  “Just you.  Those two can…stay there,” she said with a grimace.

She began walking and Michael shrugged sheepishly before hurrying to follow her as she strolled down the path.

“Is…Is this a problem?  Cause I kind of promised them they could come with me so Oc could grant their wishes and I’m not really sure how they’d take me going back on that…”

She sighed.

“Not necessarily.  It was just…unexpected that you’d find kinship with those two degenerates.”

“Do you know them?”

“I know of them,” she said, shaking her head.  “I keep watch over all the land so I’m familiar with most who live here,” she continued, looking over to Michael.  “I’m curious.”

“Hm?”

“What exactly are they asking for?”

Michael sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Scarecrow is gonna ask to be hot and Tin Man is gonna ask to be famous.  

She scoffed.

“I know.  They say it’s because they’re missing a brain and a heart but if that really is the case, I don’t know why they don’t just wish for those things.”

“It’s because they’re idiots, Michael from California.  There’s nothing you can say or do to cure that.”

She sighed and shook her head.

“But you’re different.  You aren’t asking for something frivolous and empty; you’re asking for…Arizona…Frankly, I’m surprised you’d ever team up with people like them.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d call it ‘teaming up’,” he said, waving her off.  “It’s more so just…doing them a favor.  The best thing that can come from them wishing that stuff is realizing it doesn’t make them happy.  Then, maybe they’ll actually improve themselves.”

“Oh, I doubt they will.  They’re both wildly deluded.  Plus,” she said.  “You said one’s missing a heart and one’s missing a brain?”

Michael nodded.  She chuckled.

“Michael from California, I thought you were smarter than this!  When the Scarecrow realizes being hotter doesn’t make her happy and when the Tin Man realizes being famous doesn’t make him happy, they still will be without a brain and a heart respectively.  If they don’t wish for that, there’s zero chance of changing them.  Really, if they’re as set on their wishes as you say they are, you’re just stringing them along.”

Michael looked over at the two from where they stood and it looked like they’d gotten into some sort of argument.  He sighed.

“Yeah…But I did make a promise and I don’t need them thinking I’m self-”

“Fine,” she interrupted exhaustedly.  “If you insist they be kept around, so be it.  The more the merrier…But I doubt they’ll do anything but slow you down and I know how dearly you want to get to Arizona so you better know how to keep them in check.”

“More than you’ll ever know,” he sighed.

“Hmm,” she said, straightening her posture.  “Well, I suppose I’ll be off then.”  Glinda glanced over at the two and muttered, “Good luck…You’re gonna need it…”

Michael watched as the bubble materialized around her and floated back up into the sky.  He sighed and a little begrudgingly made his way back over to the Tin Man and the Scarecrow, who were still bickering.

“How would you know?  You don’t have a brain!”

“It takes one to know one.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Michael said flatly, interrupting the two and ushering them along.  “Off to follow the yellow brick road, or whatever…”

“So, what did she want to talk to you about?” the Tin Man asked as they continued down the road.

“Uh,” Michael hesitated for a moment.  “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” the Scarecrow said skeptically.

“Well, not literally nothing but it wasn’t anything important.  She was the one who told me about Oc and how he can get me to Arizona so she was just checking in, seeing how things are going.”

“I still don’t get why you’d wanna go there for some dead woman…” the Tin Man muttered.  Michael gave the Tin Man a look.

“And I don’t get why you’d wanna be a magician in a world where wizards exist.”

The Tin Man furrowed his brow.

“What?”

“I mean, come on, what’s the point of fake magic when real magic exists?”

“Are you sure you’re not the one missing brains?”

“Yeah, I’m with Tin Man on this one,” the Scarecrow said.  “Wizards and magicians are, like, completely different.”

“…How?”

“Maybe it’s a California thing,” the Scarecrow said to Tin Man, who just shrugged, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, well, if magicians are supposedly so different from Wizards, then what about Glinda,” Michael said, gesturing up to the sky.  “She gets around in a magic bubble.”

“Uhhh, yeah, it’s called transportation.  What next, are you gonna say riding a broomstick is the- is the same thing as being a magician?  What do you think I am, some- some sort of carriage driver?  I’m the Tin Man, not- not the Lemme Give You A Lift Man.  Come on, Really Just Michael; if that is your real name.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay, it is Michael from California, then,” the Scarecrow said questioningly.

“…So you are a liar.”

“So are you,” Michael pointed out.  “Also, why did you say that like you were expecting it?”

The Tin Man just held his glare a second longer before scoffing and shaking his head.  He looked off into the distance.

“Typical Michael from California.”

Chapter Text

“Ugh, this forest is so gross,” the Scarecrow said, flicking a bug off her arm.

“It’s more than gross,” Michael said with a grimace.

While the forest started out quaint and friendly, the deeper the yellow brick road took them, the more it took on a sinister look.  Sunlight had become scarce and dim, just barely trickling through the dense canopy of trees above them.  The sounds of the forest, no longer a pleasant static but a menacing, foreboding croak that warbled ‘Get out!’.  When a particularly sinister shriek, likely belonging to some sort of bird(Michael hoped), cracked through the ominous whisper of flora and fauna, Michael jumped, looking around with wide eyes.

“Oho, someone’s scared!” the Tin Man said condescendingly, punching him jestly on the shoulder.

Michael glared at him, rubbing his shoulder; the punch may have been lighthearted but it was unnecessarily heavy handed.

“I’m not scared…I just…don’t like this forest.”

“Oh, you’re totally scared,” the Scarecrow giggled.  

“I am not!” he said, darting his eyes up as something crossed over top of them.

“Wait, wait, look at this,” she said, stopping suddenly and Michael raised an eyebrow, confused.  “This is Michael from California in the forest-” she said and as she brought her hand up to her head and raised her knee, Michael realized what was happening.

“Jesus Christ…”

“Cha-chee-cha-chee-cha-”

“Oh, that’s- that’s priceless,” the Tin Man said through a laugh.  “Look- look, I’m- Look at this-”

“Please don’t-”

“Caw-ca-caw-ca-caw!  Caw-ca-caw-ca-caw-ca-caw!”

“Cha-chee-cha-chee-cha!”

“For the love of god, would you both stop-”

HOOOOOONK! 

A bizarre sound unlike anything Michael, the Scarecrow or the Tin Man had ever heard blasted fiercely from somewhere beyond the treeline and the three found themselves screaming and huddling together.  For a while, they just stood there, silent and shaking, waiting for whatever had made that noise to come after them.

“Well,” Michael said once he finally got his breathing back to normal.  “That’s certainly one way to-”

“Shhh!” the Tin Man said, squeezing Michael tighter and looked around with a wary expression.  Michael raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, now look who’s a-”

“Shut up!” he said, shoving his hand over Michael’s mouth, which Michael promptly shoved right back away, which the Tin Man took as an invitation to shove him back and Michael wasn’t one to back down, especially after just being called a chicken-

HOOOOOOONK HOONK!

“Eep!” the Tin Man squeaked, wrapping his arms around the two once more and clinging to them tightly.

“What the hell is making that sound?” the Scarecrow said in a hush.

“What the hell is that sound?” Michael said, awkwardly maneuvering his hand to rub his temples.

“Well,” the Tin Man whispered shakily.  “There are three things that live in these woods that sound like that.”

He paused, looking around him and lowered his voice further.

“Lions…and Tigers…and Bears.”

“Oh my!”

“Shh!  Not so loud!” he said in a loud whisper.  “If it finds us, it might-”  He gulped.  “It might eat us!”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

“So neither of you were taught animal sounds, huh?  Correct me if I’m wrong, but that noise sounded nothing like lions or tigers or bears-”

“Oh my!”

“Well, those are the three animals that I know live in these woods so…” the Tin Man said, shrugging tensely.

“I saw and heard birds earlier,” Michael whispered back, gesturing up a little at the sky.”

“Oh, pshh, birds don’t count-”

“Birds don’t count, what-”

“Listen, Michael from California.  I know these woods okay?  Stop acting like such a know-it-all,” the Tin Man said, getting the pretentious look on his face that always immediately made Michael stop listening.  “I’m telling you, it’s either a lion, or a tiger, or a bear.”

“Oh my! ”

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Well, if it is,” Michael added flatly.  “Maybe you should’ve told us about these lions, tigers and bears-”

“Oh my…”

“-in…”  Michael glared at the Scarecrow.  “…instead of doing a very loud, poorly done chicken impression.”

“It wasn’t poorly done!” he said defensively.  “And she started it!”

“It’s not like I knew about the lions, tigers and bears, though!”

“Shh!” Michael said.

Unfortunately, it was too late for Michael’s shushing to do any good.  The three darted their heads over to the treeline where the sound of rustling was growing closer and closer, leaves and tree branches shaking as what would surely be the end of them grew near.

“Oh god,” the Tin Man said, beginning to cry and somehow managing to squeeze even harder.  “We’re done for.”

“Don’t cr- Er, I guess it doesn’t matter if-”

HOOOOOOONK!

Again, the three screamed, all frantically searching to hopefully spot the creature that, if what the Tin Man said was true, would be tearing them to shreds any second now.  But seconds turned to minutes and after a long enough time passed, Scarecrow spoke.

“…Is it gone?” she said.

“Maybe,” Michael said.

“It could just be waiting for us to let our guard down,” the Tin Man suggested.

“Maybe…” Michael said.  “Maybe we should try to sneak past.  Just take one step at a time, see what happens.”

After a second, the two nodded and they all, still huddled together began to slowly advance down the path but after only a couple steps a menacing(?) voice…squeaked from the sidelines.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll- I’ll honk for my mother!”

They all froze, frantically looking around.

“Where the hell are they?” the Scarecrow said.  “I mean, come on, show yourself already!”

“Don’t say that!” the Tin Man said, shoving the Scarecrow a little.

“Well, what else am I supposed to say?  Do you wanna just stand here forever cause I sure don’t!”

“Well, I’d much rather die of boredom than death!”

“Wait, did he say he’ll honk for his mother? ” Michael interjected.

“I did and I will!”

Michael narrowed his eyes at a tree a little bit down the road from them.  Perhaps, he was just seeing things but he could swear he could see something peeking out from behind a tree.

As Michael came back from his thoughts, he registered the voice, which was currently listing off more threats.

“She could fight all three of you with one paw tied behind her back.  She could fight all three of you standing on one foot.  She could even fight all three of you with her eyes closed.”

“Someone do something,” the Tin Man whispered.

“Why don’t you do something!” the Scarecrow whispered back.

“Oh, right, do you really expect- do- do you really except the guy made of- m-made of tin to do something about whatever’s out there wa- wa- wa - waiting to kill us-”

“Well, he’s not doing the killing, it’s the mother who’s-”

“Shut up, Michael from California!  And hey, why don’t you do something!”

“Pshh, me?  I hardly know the guy,” he said sarcastically, getting a glare from the Tin Man.  Michael turned back to the trees and squinting to try and spot whatever it was threatening them all.

“She’s very ferocious!” the voice squeaked.

The Scarecrow sighed.

“Well, if she’s so ferocious then why don’t you call her already?”

“Scarecrow!  You’re gonna get us killed!”

“Really?  Cause if he really was gonna sic his mom on us, he would’ve done it already.”

“N-no,” the voice stuttered.  “I was- I was just gonna- I was- Oh, my.”

Grass and leaves crunched as the fuzzy figure slowly collapsed to the ground, revealing himself from behind a tree; the tree Michael had spotted the something hiding behind earlier.  Rolling out from his hand was an air horn.

“I should’ve known,” Michael said.  

“See, I told you,” the Tin Man said smugly.  “The lion was just using an air horn.”

But it wasn’t the species that Michael ‘should’ve known’ about.

“Weird that a lion would need to use an air horn.  I mean, why not just roar?” the Scarecrow said, her attention turned back to Michael as he began to squirm from their grasp.

“Hey, where are you going?” the Tin Man said as Michael suddenly pulled away, rushing over to help.

You can always tell a Milford Man… he thought.  Or, I guess a Milford Lion.  

“Hey, buddy, come on, up we go,” Michael said, kneeling down to help the dizzy lion who looked a lot like his youngest brother, Buster, stand up.  “In,” he said, taking a breath and guiding the lion along.  “And out.”

The Scarecrow and the Tin Man stared, perplexed, at the bizarre sight.

“Is he…doing breathing exercises with the lion?”

“Typical…”

After a minute or so, the lion had fully calmed down.

“Mm, thank you,” the lion croaked, adjusting his glasses.  “I guess I misjudged you guys, huh.  My bad,” he laughed timidly.  “Sorry we got off to such a bad start.  I’m the Lion, by the way.”

“I’m Michael.  They’re the Tin Man and the Scarecrow,” Michael said, turning to look behind him at where the two were still semi-cowering from a distance.  “And it’s alright,” Michael sighed.  “But you’d probably make a better impression if you didn’t sneak up like that on people who haven’t even done anything to you.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said, a little annoyed.  “I just heard some very scary chicken noises and I didn’t want to get eaten alive, okay?”

“Right…”

“I mean, with no one to protect me, I have to take precaution when necessary.”

“…No one to protect you?” the Scarecrow said, finally making her way over, the Tin Man trailing a few steps behind.  “What was all that about your mom then?”

The Lion sighed.

“You can’t tell anyone this, okay?  It’s a secret,” he said, waving them in discreetly.  The three leaned in and the Lion’s eyes darted back and forth.  “I don’t have a mom.”

He quickly stood back up straight, almost unnaturally so, raising his eyebrows and miming zipping his lips.

“Priceless,” the Tin Man chuckled mockingly, shaking his head.  “Guess this lion’s a chicken.”

“Oh, no, far from it.  I couldn’t scare a mouse!  Really, I’m more the mouse being scared,” he chuckled nervously, wringing his paws.  “That's why I need to keep that a secret in the first place.  I have no one to protect me so pretending I have a mom’s the best thing I got.”

“You can’t protect yourself, buddy?  I mean, if nothing else, you got the horn, but even without it,” Michael said, sticking his hands in his pockets, the Lion looking absolutely appalled at even the suggestion.  “Certainly you don’t need m- a mom to scare ill-intentioned intruders off.”

Suddenly, the Lion began to laugh hysterically.

“Oh, god, no.  Me?  Protect myself?”

“I mean, you are a lion,” the Tin Man pointed out.

“Well, yes, but I don’t have any courage.”

“You could always work on self confidence,” Michael suggested.

“Well, if I had the nerve, then sure, maybe then I could change my habits, but I don’t have the nerve!”

“Right,” Michael said flatly.

“My lion-ness doesn’t mean I don’t still need a lioness,” the Lion continued.  “What good could any of this do without the nerve to fight back?” he said, gesturing at himself.  “I just wish-”

“Here we go.”

“-I could have a mom who could protect me from all the dangers of the world,” he said, nervously fidgeting with his tail.  

“Hmm.  That is a shame, yeah.  Well, uh…I wish you luck with that,” he said, patting the Lion on the shoulder before turning back to the other two.  “Alright, guys, let’s get going.  Don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

“Keep who waiting?” the Lion asked.

“Oh, no one,” Michael said, deciding to keep things vague this time, hoping to keep the party to three.

Unfortunately for him, it seemed his choice of words foiled any attempt at concealing the details.

“No one?” the Tin Man said, scoffing.  “Yeah- yeah, like the wonderful Wizard of motherfucking-Oc is no one- Come on!”

Michael sighed.

“Wait, you’re off to see the Wizard?”

Michael sighed and paused for a moment.  After a couple seconds, he gave the Tin Man and the Scarecrow a look.

“…So no one’s gonna say it this time, huh?” he said, getting nothing back but confused expressions.  “Whatever, yeah, we’re…gonna go see him.  He’s gonna get me to Arizona, make her…‘hot’,” Michael said, looking over to the Scarecrow.

“And make him famous,” the Scarecrow said, gesturing over at the Tin Man.

“Oh, wow!” the Lion said, giggling.  “He’s gonna do all that stuff for you?  That’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” the Tin Man laughed.  “I’m gonna be a famous magician.”

The Lion gawked.  Michael rolled his eyes.

“You’re a magician?” the Lion said

“You bet I am,” he replied, the Lion looking even more excited.

“Do you know any tricks-”

“ Illusions. ”

“Oh, my mistake.”

“Correct,” the Tin Man said annoyedly, clearing his throat.  “And yes, obviously I know illusions , come on!  What kind of- what kind of magician would I be otherwise?”

“Hm, that does make sense,” the Lion said, tilting his head oddly and twirling some of his mane.

“And I thought she was the one with no brains, am I right?” the Tin Man laughed loudly, patting the Lion hard on the back with one hand and gesturing back at the Scarecrow, who just scowled, with the other.

“You’re missing a brain?” the Lion said, tilting his head.

“Yes, I am,” the Scarecrow said exhaustedly.  “And if you haven’t guessed already, he’s missing a heart.”

“Wow, a heart and a brain?  I can’t imagine missing something as major as that” he said, before snorting a laugh.  “Well, hearing what you guys are missing makes me feel a lot better about my situation.”

“So happy to make you feel better,” the Tin Man snarked.

“Yeah, that was a bit of a left-handed compliment, Lion,” the Scarecrow agreed.

“Oh, sorry,” the Lion said.

“Wait, isn’t it ‘whackhanded’, not ‘left-handed’,” the Tin Man pointed out.

The Scarecrow sighed.

“Well, I don’t have any brains so what do you-”

“It’s back handed and they’re interchangeable, actually,” Michael interrupted, the Scarecrow smiling smugly at the Tin Man.  It didn’t last long, though.  “I’m surprised you knew that one, actually.”

The Scarecrow gave Michael a look.

“Great, you too?”

“Wha- Oh, come on, I was just-…Whatever.  Can we please just get going.”

“Wait, can you show me an illusion, first?” the Lion asked, looking over to the Tin Man.

The Tin Man froze for a moment, his expression confused but hopeful.

“Uh…Yeah, I can-” is all he got out before he eagerly knelt down on one knee and began to pull out a deck of cards from his foot.  When he stood back up, he saw Michael giving him a weird look.

“What?” the Tin Man said defensively, beginning to shuffle .  “It’s not like I have any pockets…If you could hold this actually,” he said, handing the box to Michael without looking up.

The Tin Man, after jamming one of half of the cards into the other a couple times-

“There are better ways to do that, you know,” Michael said.

-he stood up straighter and flashed a cocky, crooked smile.  He held up the cards dramatically by his head.  

“Ooh, I’m so excited,” the Lion said, clapping his hands together.  The Scarecrow rolled her eyes and looked over at Michael, miming tapping a watch on her wrist.  Michael agreed with her silent sentiment and sighed.

“Get ready to have your-”

“Okay, nope, we’re not doing this,” Michael said, the Lion deflating and the Tin Man giving him an angry look.

“Oh, come on!” he said.  “I already got them in or- I mean , shuffled them already!”

“I’m sure you did,” Michael snarked.  “But remember what I just said?”

The Tin Man raised an eyebrow.

“About needing to get going?”

“Oh, right, you guys are off to see the Wizard, right?”

“He’s right, Tin Man,” the Scarecrow said.  “Who knows how much further we’ll have to go.”

“It’s only one illusion,” the Tin Man said, exhaling a weak laugh.

“Fine, then we’ll be on our way then.”

“No!” he said, taking a step towards Michael and the Scarecrow.  “Don’t- Ugh,” he said, crossing his arms with a pout.  “You’re no fun.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna- I can not do this if you don’t want to, but if you can walk while doing the illusion and if it’s okay with you two, I can walk with you for the time it takes to do it.”

The Tin Man looked at Michael with hopeful eyes.

Michael sighed.

“I guess-”

“Wait, didn’t you say you wanted a mom or something?” the Scarecrow pointed out.

Michael sighed…again.  Glinda’s words echoed through his mind.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to-”

“See, he doesn’t want to,” Michael said, clapping.  “So that’s that.”

“Wow, Michael from California.  You’re just gonna leave this poor, defenseless, momless lion out here, all alone, when he could come with us and wish for a mom?  I expected better from you.”

“You just met me,” Michael said, getting cut off by the Tin Man.

“Typical,” the Tin Man said.  “First you don’t want him to see my illusion and now you don’t want him to have a mom?  And not potentially be shown more illusions along the way?  Yeah- yeah, real generous of you.”

“Wha- I jus- There’s already three of us so-”

Thump!

The three looked over to where they’d heard the sound.  There was the Lion, curled up awkwardly on his side on the ground, one paw twitching every few seconds.

“Oh, great, look what you’ve done now,” the Tin Man said, throwing a hand up in the air.

“Right, cause I’m the one that caused this,” Michael said, kneeling down.  “Hey, pal, everything alright?”

“Obviously not,” the Tin Man said, Michael giving him a look.  The Scarecrow elbowed the Tin Man and he elbowed her back.

Michael turned back to the Lion with a sigh.

“You overwhelmed, bud?  Need me to get- Er, nevermind…Just…Lemme help you up.”

The Lion just whined in response.

“Alright, up we go, come on.”

Slowly the Lion began to steady himself, his feet planting more firmly on the ground and his legs no longer daring to give out.  While he had successfully managed to keep upright, he still looked shell-shocked.

The Tin Man took no mind of this.

“Okay, sooo…Can I show you the illusion now?” he asked, fidgeting with the cards absentmindedly.

“Can you shut up for five seconds?” the Scarecrow shot back, the Tin Man frowning and crossing his arms.  “Look at him and tell me, what do you think the answer to that question is?”

“Hey, he wanted me to show it to him!  Maybe it would make him feel better.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” Michael said, rolling his eyes.

“Actually, it might help,” the Lion said timidly.

“Yes!” the Tin Man said loudly as he punched the air, making the Lion flinch.  He pointed at Michael and the Scarecrow.  “I told you!”

Michael massaged the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Or- or not,” the Lion stammered.  “Ugh, I’m sorry I’m causing such a fuss.  If I had a mom, ya know, we wouldn’t even be in this situation in the first place but not everyone’s so lucky to be born with one, huh?” he giggled sadly.

Michael, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow all looked at each other, confused.  Michael raised his eyebrows and the Scarecrow nodded a little.  The Tin Man wasn’t sure what the two were doing and by that point, had stopped paying attention.

“But wouldn’t you- Ow!  Stop doing that!” the Tin Man whined, the Scarecrow having yet again elbowed him.

“You know what,” Michael said, cutting in before he could say anything else.  He hesitated a moment, Glinda’s words once again replaying through his mind.  He shook his head.  “How about you come along with us to see Oc; get yourself a mom.  How’s that sound, pal?”

“Really?” the Lion said, straightening up from his hunch a little.

“Mhmm.  If you want.”

“Uhhh, yeah, duh!  Of course I want to come!” he laughed.

“Okay, so now that he’s feeling better, can I show him the-”

“Not until we get going,” Michael interrupted, not even turning to look at the Tin Man.

“God, wow, I can’t believe it,” the Lion said, still in shock.  “I’m gonna get a mom thanks to you guys.”

Michael shrugged.

“My life’s been unbearable,” he continued.  “I haven’t had anyone to confide in since everyone’s always found me off-putting.”

“I can only imagine,” Michael said, rolling his eyes.  “Well, anyway, how about we get back to following-”

“So I just…I just gotta get it all out and tell you how I feel.”

Michael sighed, his patience wearing thin.

“…Sure…”

“Oh, so he’s allowed to sing but I can’t show him an illusion that’ll take five seconds?  Come on!”

Now, the world is full of danger

Like crime, disease and strangers

And quicksand, sun and bombs

But I wouldn’t have to worry

And/or constant-tally scurry

If I only had a mom

Oh, I would never cry, at the very least less

I’d be experiencing life at it’s best

Dependency?

That’s cool with me

There’d be constant supervision

Never have to make decisions

And nothing would go wrong

I could still be lily-livered

[Tin man]

Jealous, envious, embittered

[Scarecrow]

Be as brainless as a lizard

[Michael]

If the Wizard is a Wizard, who will serve

[Lion]

I’m sure to get a mom

[Tin Man]

Be famous

[Scarecrow]

Look hot

[Michael]

Go to Arizona

“Great, now that we’re done with that, let’s get a move o-”

“Oh, we’re off to see the Wizard!” said the Scarecrow with a skip.

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oc,” said the Tin Man.

“We hear he is a whiz of a Wiz if ever a Wiz there was,” the Lion added.

“If ever, oh ever, a Wiz there was-”

“You guys really don’t know each other?”

“-The Wizard of Oc is one because, because, because, because, because, because!” they all said, looking over at Michael expectantly.  He sighed.

“Because of the wonderful things he does,” he droned.

“We’re off to see the Wizard!  The Wonderful Wizard of Oc!”

__________________

Tall, thin green doors burst open with great force to a large, cavernous conference room largely of a similar hue.  The eerie creak of the doors pierced through the silence and paired fiercely with the echoey click of Glinda’s heels and the swish of her dress dragging behind her.

“What news do you bring,” a stern voice rang out through the chamber, trailing off as Glinda tore back the curtain to reveal Oc sitting at his station.  He laughed but quickly cleared his throat when her unamused expression stayed unchanging.

“Not in the mood, huh?”

“When am I ever, you pinhead?” Glinda snapped.

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said, feigning sympathy.  “I thought that was your name.”

“Very funny,” he said flatly.  “Now, did you just come in here to insult me or do you actually have something to say?”

She smiled wryly before composing herself.

“He won’t budge.  It looks like the three brats who’ve joined him will be sticking around.”  

“Three?  I thought it was only two?”

“It was.  But it seems in the time it took me to get here, he picked up a third.  Luckily they’re all even more clueless than he is.”

“I see.  Well, we can work with that.  Definitely doesn’t hurt, as long as things go smoothly.”

“Which is what I’m worried about.  I don’t want those dimwits messing up our plan.  Or worse, pulling back the curtain on our little operation.  There’s strength in numbers and they may be idiots but if even one of them catches on, it can spread like wildfire.  And while the chances of it are unlikely-“

“We still don’t want to risk it.”

“Exactly.  Especially with that insipid little witch still on the loose.”

“So intervene.  You’ve done it before.”

“Already planning on it.”

“Something with poison?”

“You know me too well.”

“Perfect.  I couldn’t do this without you, Glinda.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she turned to make her way back out of the room.

“Trust me, Oscar.  I know.”

Chapter Text

So it’s just Michael?” the Scarecrow asked as they rounded the bend.  They could see the edge of the woods from here.

“That’s my name: Michael,” Michael said exhaustedly.

“Huh…Why didn’t you-…Woah.”

All four of them stopped and stared in awe as they emerged from the forest.  Off in the distance, just beyond a vast valley dense with vibrant, orange lilies, waiting past the yellow brick road, stood the Emerald City, a staggeringly tall cluster of glittering, green skyscrapers that stretched up, up, up and gleamed brightly in the sunlight.  The promise of fulfillment pulsed through their veins.

“They really should invest in landscaping,” Michael said, squinting ahead where he could just barely see the yellow brick road snaking out the other side.  Hesitantly, he plunged his right foot into the sea of flowers.

“You know, I already thought you were a chicken but I didn’t realize you were afraid of flowers,” the Tin Man said mockingly, jamming his card deck back in his foot before doing a quick chicken dance.

“Please stop,” Michael droned.

The Tin Man did a couple more “Caw-Kah”s as he shoved past everyone, taking off running.

“Betcha I’ll get to the other side first!”

“No one cares!” the Scarecrow shouted.

“Is irony the right word for this?” Michael said, tugging at the collar of his shirt; it seemed a lot hotter now that they were out of the woods.  “I can never remember the definition of the word.

“Sore loser!” the Tin Man teased, turning around to face the other three as he ran.  He laughed until he stumbled a little and quickly resumed running forwards.

Michael took a deep breath, already feeling his patience being tested.  The Scarecrow rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, I still can’t believe I had your name wrong the whole time!” she said.  Michael tensed.  All of a sudden, something about how she spoke popped like hot sparklers on his skin.  “You really could’ve just said something.”

“Actually, I did tell you, all of you, multiple times, but I guess you had too much hay in your ears to hear,” Michael snarked, surprising himself a little as the words tumbled out.  

“Ah- Hey!”

Michael blinked and shook out his hands before dragging them down his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” he sighed.  “I think I’m just tired or something…”

 The Scarecrow crossed her arms and huffed.

The Tin Man had stopped about halfway through the field to take a breather so the three ended up catching up to him pretty fast.  Also, for whatever reason, the irritation he’d begun feeling had only grown and Michael felt on the edge of punching someone in the face.  Maybe it was allergies…

“Hold on,” the Tin Man wheezed.  “I just gotta…catch my- my breath, just-”  He made a sound akin to almost gagging and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before standing up and exhaling deeply.  “I’m fine,” he said, his cocky smile a little weary.

“Thank god,” Michael said sarcastically.  “I was worried I might’ve had to leave you behind.”

“Well, lucky for you,” the Tin Man said, taking another heavy breath.  “You won’t have to!”

“Hip, hip, hooray,” Michael replied drearily.

The Tin Man narrowed his eyes.

“I can tell when you use sarcasm, ya know,” he said, crossing his arms.

“I’m sure you can, buddy,” Michael replied with halfheartedly feigned kindness.  He gave the Tin Man a pat on the shoulder before continuing on towards the city.  The Tin Man huffed and followed begrudgingly behind.

Typical, condescending Michael, he thought.  He attempted to kick the flowers but he just ended up tripping over himself.  It didn’t seem like anyone saw, though, so it basically didn’t happen or whatever.

The Scarecrow was going on about something that was making Typical Michael frustrated.  He tried to listen in but he couldn’t quite follow.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asked.

“It’s none of your business,” Michael shot back, not bothering to turn around.  The Tin Man pouted.

“Whatever,” he muttered.  “Sounded boring anyway.”

Typical, exclusionary, boring Michael…He wished he had a pebble so he could huck it at him or any one of them, really.  Vindication would probably make him feel better, or something…

 From there his mind wandered and so did his eyes, his gaze eventually falling on the Lion, remembering that he could probably show him an illusion or something; turns out as annoying and babyish as this Lion was, he was a great audience.  But for some reason, the Lion had that same wide-eyed look and twitchiness from back when they first met him in the woods.

But hey, he said illusions could help, right?

“Hey, Lion, can I show you an illusion,” the Tin Man whispered loudly, hoping not to alert Michael or the Scarecrow, who would surely dismiss his efforts just like earlier.  “Lion?”

It was like he didn’t hear him.  Great, now he was ignoring him too?  Typical.  Everyone always gets sick of him, even stupid, annoying, chicken Lions.

Suddenly, getting an idea, he glanced briefly at the Scarecrow and Michael.  Maybe he didn’t have a pebble but… 

“Hey, if a nap’s more important to you than feel free-”

Suddenly, a shrill yelp interrupted the Scarecrow and Michael’s squabble and the two turned around to see the Lion, looking entirely overwhelmed, gently and methodically massaging his tail with one hand while the other one raked through his mane.  The Tin Man, contrastly, was in hysterics.

“God, you are too easy…” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye as he got out the last of his giggles.  When he noticed the other two had stopped and were looking at him, unamused, he crossed his arms defensively.  “What?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“‘What’?” the Tin Man asked.

“-Is your problem?” Michael completed before looking down at his metal chest.  “Oh, right, I remember now.”  

The Tin Man scoffed.

“Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun, right, Lion?” the Tin Man said, attempting to give the Lion a noogie which he immediately tried to squirm out of, an uncomfortable whine quickly turning to a mighty roar.

Now it was the Tin Man’s turn to scream, stumbling back and shielding his face, almost mirroring the Lion, who was quickly backing away, himself, hands pressed over his ears.  Once he found himself at a satisfactory distance, he collapsed into a ball in the flowers.

“Great, now look what you’ve done,” Michael said, intentionally bumping into the Tin Man’s shoulder as he walked past him to get to the cowardly Lion.

“Ah- How is this my fault?” the Tin Man complained.  “I didn’t know he was gonna be a freak about it.”

Michael just ignored the Tin Man and walked over to the Lion.  “Hey, buddy,” he tried to say but the Lion roared even louder than the last time and he quickly backed away.

“Great.  Now because of you, and yes, this is your fault, we’re gonna have to wait for him to calm down.”

“Hey, how about you calm down-” the Scarecrow tried to say.

“How about you listen for once!” Michael shot back.

The Scarecrow gawked in offense.

“What does that have to with-”

“Nothing!” Michael interrupted again, sighing and massaging his nose.  “This is what I get for being a charitable person…” he muttered.  “I should’ve just listened to Glinda.”

“What do you mean?” the Scarecrow said.

“Wait, what did he say?  I didn’t hear,” the Tin Man said.

“I thought you said she didn’t say anything.”

Michael opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted again.  He could feel a pressure building in his skull.

“Who didn’t say anything?”

“Glinda!  Now shut up!” Scarecrow said.

“You shut up!”

“You shut up!”

“Both of you!” Michael shouted at the Tin Man and the Scarecrow.  They winced at his sharp tone.  “Shut up!” 

For a moment, he just stared.  His heavy breathing and the Lion’s whines were the only thing filling the silence.  

“God…” he scoffed before starting off in the direction of the city.

The Tin Man and the Scarecrow exchanged a look.  The Scarecrow took after him.

“Wait, Michael, where are you off to?” Scarecrow said.  

“To see the Wizard.”

“The wonderful Wizard of-”

“For the love of god, stop staying that!” Michael shouted, turning around to face her.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, holding up her hands.  “But…What about Lion?  I thought you said we had to wait for him?”

“You two can wait for him.  I’m not.”

The Scarecrow came to a stop, furrowing her brow.

“…Wait, are you leaving us?”

“Yeah, I’m done with you guys.  I’m not putting up with you selfish idiots anymore.”

“You can’t leave us!” the Tin Man said, rushing over himself.

“Yes, I can.  I’m the one Glinda sent to see him and I’m the reason any of you are getting to see him too.  You're lucky I was kind enough to even let any of you come along in the first place but it’s clear you’re just taking my help for granted since all you’ve done is cause trouble so you can go ask Oc on your own; if he’ll even let you see him at all.”

“Okay, but I didn’t cause any trouble!” the Scarecrow shouted

“Well, it’s only fair isn’t it?” Michael said, echoing her own sentiment.  “To leave you behind with all the others, given your wish is just as vapid and stupid as those two’s?”

The Scarecrow just stared, mouth agape.  Michael raised his eyebrows and shrugged and she closed her mouth and looked at the ground angrily.

“Right, right, okay so- so our wishes are vapid and dumb, huh?” the Tin Man shouted defensively.  “Well, you’re the guy who- who wants to live in the state his dumb, d-dead wife is from, like that wish isn’t dumb.”

Michael didn’t even remember how it happened but suddenly, he found himself tackling the Tin Man to the ground and punching him in the face.

And quickly realizing he shouldn’t punch him cause, right, he’s made of metal.  So he made a note to avoid that while beating him up.  

The Scarecrow stood there in shock at the scene unfolding in front of her.

Unbeknownst to the four, in the distance a weary witch watched woefully.

“Oh, dear, I had a feeling- What’s that spell again?” he worried to himself, pulling out a spell book from the bag that hung off the back of his broomstick and quickly flipping through it.

“Guys, stop- Stop it!” the Scarecrow said, taking a step towards them before quickly backing away when she realized she wasn’t exactly sure what she, a scarecrow made of hay, could do to stop the far sturdier human and tin man.

She watched helplessly as the two tumbled around in the flowers, punching and pulling and kicking.  For some reason, the Lion roared again, startling her, but Michael and the Tin Man either didn’t hear him or were just too focused on beating the shit out of each other to care.

“Guys!” she shouted again.  “You need to- Chill!”

Suddenly, the Scarecrow saw something small and white float down in front of her face and quickly disappear on the flower it landed on below. 

“What the…” she said, looking up at the sky, blinking as snowflakes landed softly on her face.  Where the snow was coming from, she wasn’t sure.  There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Lion lift his head from where he’d been keeping it buried and he slowly lowered his hands.

“Gob- I mean, Tin Man, stop!”

The Scarecrow looked back to Michael and the Tin Man.  

Gob? she thought to herself.  Where had she heard that before?  

Before she could think any more, she was snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of the Tin Man shouting as Michael tried to squirm his way out of the brawl, with little success.

“You- you stop!” the Tin Man said, which didn’t make much sense since he was the only one really fighting at this point.

“I’m…I’m sorry for trying to leave you guys behind, okay?” he said reluctantly.

The Tin Man immediately stopped his pummeling and sat back.

“You mean it?” he said quietly.

Michael nodded.

“And…you’re sorry for calling our wishes dumb?”

Michael sighed.

“If you apologize for calling mine dumb…Sure…Now get off me.”

After a second, Tin Man pulled on his hair one more time for good measure before getting up. 

“Fine, I’m sorry, but you better- Oh, shit-”

And immediately teetering over, having begun to rust in the snow.

Michael sighed.

“Scarecrow, you have the oil can?” he said from where he lay in the snow.

“Mhmm,” she said, taking it off from where she’d tied it to her belt and handed it to Michael.

“You can’t do it yourself?”

“I could but hey, you’re already holding it so you might as well just do it.  Especially after you tried to abandon us.”

“Mmm mm!”

“He’s saying you’re selfish,” she said.

“Getting real quick with those translations, huh,” Michael droned.  He sighed.  “Listen, I said I’m sorry, okay?  Really, I shouldn’t have- I don’t know what came over me.  It…It was selfish of me to try and leave you guys behind when I promised—”

“Mmm!”

“Just a second, Tin Man— when I promised I’d take you along with me.  That’s not right.  We’ve gotta stick together.”

“Mmm.”

“Typical,” Lindsay translated.

“You’re pushing your luck, you know,” Michael sighed, kneeling down to help the Tin Man unrust.