Chapter Text
The sky above London was a dreary grey as Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West flew solemnly across it, of course today of ALL days was the one she was invited to the feast, normally she would be wailing before Galinda’s grave, for today was the day she died 20 years ago from ‘natural’ causes (?). It’s the one day she’s allowed to cry, for her tears burn her lizardly green skin. Her Corviknight, Crows, squawked metallically beneath her with great angst. He too, felt sorrowful. Galinda was always so kind to him, even as a small Rookidee. This too, was the sad anniversary of the spontaneous implosion of Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West’s beloved broomstick, the pain was near equal to the loss of her one true love. Alas.
All of a sudden, Crows let out a horrible sound like the scream of an empty blender before keeling over midair — dead, and plummeting with great velocity towards the sharp spike of Nelson’s column in Trafalgar Square, Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West had been waiting for this, it was time she accepted death. She was sad. Yet an unforeseen thump followed by great weightlessness overtook her, she opened her startlingly green eyes to see her grand long robes had billowed upon a great beast that was now flying her towards the palace.
A joyous melody filled the air around the beast as they soared across the grey sky.
“Nice of you to drop in,” Said the spiky haired man wearing what seemed to Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West like red pyjamas, an odd choice of clothing but she had seen goats wearing glasses, so nothing much phased the key-lime green witch these days.
“One flies freest when accompanied by the tender heart of a refugee, Kai” said a wisened elderly man with a great beard, as he looked back at Kai and Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West’s fluttering forms, Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West came to the realisation that she WAS a refugee of the sky. The music came to a great crescendo, before the splendour of the vocals ceased and Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West noticed a third person sitting on the back of the great Beast, gazing glassily off into the horizon above London.
“Does anyone have any song requests,” Taylor Swift asked swiftly, her red lipsticked lips frozen in a perpetual seemly smile, like a dog with two tails, “It’s the least I could for you all for giving me a lift to the feast!” Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West perked up at this, she DID have a song request.
“Would you mind singing ‘its nice to have a friend’ from your album Lover, 2019?” Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West requested
“No.” Said Taylor Swift swiftly, before breaking into a pop remix of Carol of the Bells with accompanying tap dance.
“Oh I love this one, don’t you, sensei Wu?” Noted Kai, his red pyjamas sitting normally against his form.
“I think it’s an unreleased one, Kai!” Wu responded, “Quick record it, we can make some money.”
“No one will pay for this Rubbish” Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West scowled to herself, she HATED carol of the bells.
Without warning Wu flicked the reins of the great beast and they all began descending straight downwards (his mind was not as it used to be) Kai simply stood with his hands above his head, “WHEEEEE” He yelled, the beast stopped falling, Wu did not, his inertia too great, he flew from his perch on the great beast quickly much like an infant flying through the windshield of a crashing car, until he was nought but a spec in the sky. “Master WU!” Kai yelled, “Oh, he was old anyway, I’m sure he’ll be back later.”
Taylor Swift kept singing, much to Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West’s dismay. Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West on the other hand, did not care much for this crotchety old man she had only just met.
The three of them descended the great beast on the cobbled grounds outside Buckingham palace, the air was thick with morose feelings, and the smell of a recently detonated bomb, Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West’s nose, thanks to its being a green, crooked hawk-like appendage attached squarely in the middle of her square-shaped face, was highly attuned to these sorts of feelings (and smells).
“I wonder what could be the source of that wicked smell?” Asked Taylor Swift swiftly, as she gazed longingly into Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West’s face, grimacing.
“I reckon they’ve just burnt something in the kitchen,” Kai added, as he released the reins of the great beast, “I don’t feel particularly hungry anymore, especially if it’s that halfwit, Gordon Ramsay making the food tonight.” Yet his stomach gave away the lie, grumbling like a pre-eruption volcano.
The three almost friends entered the great palace that belonged to the British Royal Family and came across the strangest sight, it was The Stranger, dressed up in the ‘skin’ of Nikola Orsinov.
“I couldn’t help but hear that you do not wish for that deranged muppet, Star of the hit show Master Chef Junior, Gordon Ramsay to make dinner, Well do I have some good news for you, Kai Ninjago!” Said The Stranger, aka Nikola Orsinov.
“Oh, fantastic, what news do you have?” Kai voiced ponderously staring at nothing in particular, and beginning to follow Nikola Orsinov aka The Stranger. Elphaba, The Wicked Witch of the West did not know what to think about this strange skin swapping Stranger, she thought that she might ask her/him/them/it for tips about skin swapping, she would be partial to changing her greenliness to something more palatable for others.
“Stop looking at me,” announced Taylor Swift swiftly spinning about to break Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West’s greedy gaze from her smooth skin, it was much like the gentle glassiness of a fish frozen in a lake.
“I was merely admiring your smooth smooth-hound-fish-like skin,” cooed Elphaba the Wicked witch of the west affectionately, her voice purring as she spoke.
“Oh, of course,” Taylor Swift swiftly swished her hair behind her head, as she continued to follow The Stranger and Kai Ninjago, “My skin is there to be admired, I actually won Miss Congeniality for it last year!”
“Oh how wonderful,” came Nickola Orsinov aka The Stranger’s voice from up ahead, “I do love it when people take care of their skin.” Her porcelain face tried to smile wider, yet as it was porcelain, it remained the same.
The corridor widened to a corner where several people were causing a ruckus, the first one Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the west noticed, was the LegoTM Joker arguing with nothing standing by a plinth that held a wonderfully dirty bust of Diana Spencer, the people’s princess, but as the LegoTM Joker was crazy this was not usual. The odder thing was Nigella Lawson cradling and stroking the hair of Gordon Ramsay, star from the hit show Gordon Ramsay's 24 Hours to Hell and Back as he wept upon the ground, cradling in turn his bloody stump where his hand once was.
Nikola Orsinov aka The Stranger came to a halt at Gordon Ramsay’s side, she stared at Nigella Lawson.
“What on earth are you doing here, Nigella, there are cakes and biscuits and scones and teas to be made! Chop Chop!” She screamed, causing Nigella Lawson to promptly drop Gordon Ramsay and flee to the kitchen glaring angrily all the while at the porcelain faced top-hatted wo(man). Gordon Ramsay star from the hit show The F-Word’s head hit the ground with a heavy clunk and he began to cry.
“Ceaseless Watcher!” Cried another voice that came from a scraggly looking man, who clearly was not supposed to be there (the footmen were actively trying to remove him, but he had too many eyes, meaning the footmen were not allowed to move as they were being watched), Nikola Orsinov aka The Stranger whipped around.
“YOU!” She/he/they/it screamed, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by the new arrival; Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West watched in awe.
“Turn your gaze upon this wretched thing, drink its fear, make it understand what it is, make it WATCH!” The new arrival said, an aura around him growing and glowing a vivid green (much like Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the west’s skin) the aura formed a great eye that gazed intensely at Nikola Orsinov, aka The Stranger, she cowered under its watchful eye before violently, her skin was torn away, becoming but dust under the piercing stare of the great green eye, her muscles, bones and viscera decayed into sand before the eye, as it glared down at her.
Several minutes later, all that was left of poor The Stranger aka Nikola Orsinov was but her boots, and a very large charred pile of ash, Gordon Ramsay was screaming, although no one knew why, neither did they pay him any mind, everyone was too busy watching the strange man with too many eyes be carted away by the footmen (he knew as well as ANYONE he was not invited to the feast, so he didn’t resit).
“Splendid, I’ve been needing a new pair of boots!” Announced Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the west, but just before she could reach over Gordon Ramsay’s form as he cradled his second arm, (his other hand had been lost in the kerfuffle, absorbed by the eye perchance, although none of them would ever really know; nor did they care) — Taylor Swift swiftly dove in and stole the boots from her grasp, snatching them away, close to her chest with her beautifully manicured baby-smooth hands.
“No.” Said Taylor Swift, swiftly.