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The Wonderful Wizard of Reno...Part 6

Updated on April 4, 2012

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The reader who begins the story here will be very disappointed in their comprehension scores. Please note...This is Part 6...Part 1 would be a better place to start this fanciful Tale of the Wonderful Wizard of Reno...

Please Click HERE to enter the story at a comprehensible place.

I Hope You Enjoy.

The Emerald Wells Cafe...
The Emerald Wells Cafe... | Source

My Dwarves are Sticky...

Alastar, Dorothy, and Cowardly Lion had completed the rounds of the local pawn shops in Reno. No Ruby Slippers. Alastar still appears pleased with himself. Once they were back on the street they found themselves being jostled by the crowd.

The nearby, state-of-the art, National Bowling Stadium, which was hosting the National Championship of Bowlers, had just let out.

Hundreds of athletes, (laughing...I’m sorry...I mean bowlers), were heading back to their rooms prior to heading out to explore the many attractions the ‘Biggest Little City in the Word’ has to offer...

“We should cut across the street and go back to the Silver Legacy.” Says Cowardly Lion as he stops mid-block.

Dorothy looks at him before saying, “Shouldn’t we go up to the light and cross? It is very dangerous to cross in the middle of the street.”

“Dorothy. You’re from Kansas. That’s the Jay walking State.” Informs Cowardly Lion...

“I believe Kansas is the Jay HAWK state...and I am from Missouri...The Show Me State...Show me an idiot who crosses the road without a light and I will show you an idiot.” Kelly corrects.

They walk down the block, cross at the light, and enter the casino. Feeling peckish they decide to grab a bite at the Emerald Wells Café inside the casino.

Alastar orders pancakes (whole wheat organic) and Cowardly Lion a steak. Kelly orders pancakes and a steak. The waitress, whose nametag reads, Emmy, calls out the order to the cook who was, apparently, named Earl. Emmy brings back coffee and an estimated time of arrival for the food. It was a very pleasant establishment.

“So what’s next?” Kelly asks.

“Maybe we could go back to the woods?” Alastar says to Kelly with a hopeful look in his eye while still managing to look pleased with himself...

Kelly quiets him with a hand on his arm which forces him to concentrate on the business at hand...

Alastar frowns. “Pfft...That’s up to Thomas and he lost me at the Eskimo birth being serenaded by penguins with flutes...” He finishes dispiritedly.

“Still, haunting melody, wasn’t it?” Contributes, Cowardly Lion, philosophically.

“Yeah. Eerie, even.” Both Alastar and Kelly agree.

The food’s delivered and they tuck in.

“So what’s your story, Creative Voice?” Kelly observes. “I seem to have some major input into these things. What happens next?”

“I Dunno! I Dunno!” Says a frustrated Creative Voice within the character of the Cowardly Lion. “All I know is that I was afraid of this guy (Indicates Alastar) and now I am afraid of Serb-speaking Norwegians with Russian accents!”

“But aren’t you actually Thomas?” From Alastar. “And ThoughtSandwiches is...?”

Cowardly Lion’s admission comes in the form of, “It’s complicated.”

“I have to ask,” From Kelly. “Just how many of you guys are actually living in there?”

“And also paying rent?” Creative Voice attempts to clarify...

Nemanja Boskov  Serbian Language Expert...and Serbian...
Nemanja Boskov Serbian Language Expert...and Serbian... | Source

My Midget Burns When I Pee...

They are interrupted.

“I can’t help but overhear your conversation because I am eavesdropping from this booth.” The voice floats over the partition that separates the two waitress stations...

The audio physics of this confession makes sense so they take him at his word and invite him to sit with them.

He’s swarthy in a foreign way. I wouldn’t call him Euro-trash...but I would type Euro-trash twice, thus, causing the casual ‘skimmer reader’ to think, perhaps, he was Euro-trash. I might even type it three times. Pfft. Why not?

When the man comes around the booth he’s not wearing Speedos. not Euro-trash. He brings his plate (pancakes), coffee cup, and a briefcase over and squeezes into the booth next to Cowardly Lion.

Introductions are made. He is noted Hubber and Serbian Language expert...Nemanja Boskov. He speaks Serbian like an expert...which he is...a Serbian that is...

“You are trying to figure out where Thomas is going with this story?” Nemanja asks as he settles in. He takes a quick sip of coffee before pulling notebooks out of his briefcase and announcing...

“I have read every single thing that Thomas has ever written and—“

“Why?” From Cowardly Lion.

“Even that Avalon Hill hub?” Contributes Alastar.

“Wait...what? Huh? Why?” Kelly is clearly confused...

Nemanja acknowledges the dismay before admitting, “We don’t get cable TV in our part of Serbia.”

“Oh well...” Understands Cowardly Lion.

“Still...I would think...” Alastar searches for some kind of meaning to it all...

“Wait...what? Huh? Why?” Kelly is clearly confused...

Creative Voice emerges from Cowardly Lion to ask...

“How about my stuff, huh?” In a hopeful tone, “Do you like what I have written?”

“You sir...are pond scum.” Nemanja says dismissively. “And an asshole.”

“Put ‘em Up, Put ‘em Up!!” Hollers The Cowardly Lion. “What’s your fucking problem?!”

Nemanja turns in the booth to face Cowardly Lion. Emmy struggles past them with an order of pancakes for two locals...The Towsend brothers...grabbing the maple syrup, she moves past, all manners, of obstacles...the girl was going to get the order in...

“What’s MY fucking problem?” Asks Nemanja menacingly. “Would you prefer general or specific reasons?”

The Cowardly Lion considers his odds before requesting specific.

Don Quixote vs. Don Knotts?” Intones Nemanja.

“Ohhhh...” The Cowardly Lion wishes he had gone general...

Nemanja snarls at him derisively. “Ohhhh? That’s what you have to say? You took Internal CD player’s batteries out bitch!”

“Right, right, right...that was wrong, wrong, wrong.” Admits the Cowardly Lion. “I am very, very, very sorry. Let’s go find Thomas.”

“Sounds good.” Agrees Nemanja.

They finish their food, pay the check, tip handsomely, and leave the eatery.

“I shouldn’t have had the pancakes AND steak.” Kelly complains. “Is there a place I can work this off?”

Creative Voice considers the layout of the casino before remembering, “Oh yeah...a pretty famous one’s upstairs. The Barbergirl28 P90X Gym of Pain...”


Say Dwarf with Pride when You Say Dwarf Pilgrim...

Vladimir’s leaning against the headboard and smoking a cigarette. Bristol’s next to him working on her laptop. She’s busy organizing her “latest” baby-shower. A venue had been selected, catering arranged, invitations extended, and now she was organizing the games. Thus far she was including “Spin the Bottle,” “Ignorance is Bliss,” and “Guess Who the Baby-Daddy Is?”

“Oh Putee,” She coos, “You are just so virile!”

Da. I am the new face of Russia!” He exclaims proudly.

“I can see...Ow Ow Ow....oh oh...” Gasps Bristol. Clearly outlined on her naked distended stomach...the obvious outline of a wing...

“Oh look!” She gushes. “It’s flapping!”

“Are your children always so winged?” Putin probes.

“Lately, yeah.” She admits.

“We have winged children in Russia.” Notes Putin. “Ours are far superior to western-winged children!”

The phone rings and Putin answers it. It’s Fork...

Da. Da. Nyet. Nyet. Nyet—Da.” He hangs up. As Bristol does not speak Russian...Vladimir translates for her...

“I said...’Yes. Yes. No. No. No—Yes.’” He reports accurately...

“Would you like to come to the baby shower?” Bristol asks hopefully.

It would be nice to have one man there. Her dad, Todd Palin, will be in attendance...but a man with testicles would be a pleasant change for once, she thinks...

“No babushka,” Says Vladimir. “I must kill that journalist for the right-wing American fascist politician...Sharron Angle.

“Oh poo.” Bristol pouts...

With a sudden gasp, Bristol leans into the pillows, arches her back, and spreads her legs. A large egg rolls out of her uterus. The egg wobbles for a moment before cracking open. The newest winged illegitimate offspring of Bristol Palin (a Girl!) emerges and waddles to the corner where she sits and quivers...

Traveling down, deep within Bristol’s fallopian tubes, the next seed marches forward and imbeds itself into her eggs. It’s Putin’s seed. A biological clock begins ticking. They both hear it...

“Ah well,” Announces Putin as he grabs for his shoes and looks at the watch he wasn’t wearing. “Look at the time? I must go and kill the journalist.”

“Oh Putee!! You’ll call me right?!?!” Calls out a suddenly alarmed Bristol.

Da. Da.” Putin absently confirms as he scurries for the door while holding his clothing over his private parts...

The newest addition to the Bristol Palin, winged-illegitimate offspring, clan gets confused. Da-da? She follows after Putin...chirping quietly...quivering slightly...”Da-da...Da-da...”

Speaking of really ugly things on a stick? (Which we are now doing...) ...Sharron Angle...


Is a Widget...Just an Upside Down Midget...?

Sharron Angle’s Campaign Headquarters...Conference Room C...

Crowded around a conference endorsement strategy session is going on...

The fat was in the fire...

In attendance: Sharron Angle, L. Ron Hubbard, Charlton Heston, a portly midget named Frederick, along with, Dr. Zaius and Cornelius (from the 1968 movie...Planet of the Apes).

Additionally, there was a large elephant sitting in the room, wearing spectacles, sipping an espresso, and reading a four-day-old copy of The Boston Globe...

All the plants in the room have long since died from being overwatered...

Sharron is screaming obscenities at the men, monkeys, midget, and elephant in the room. She’s sweating, fretting, and being a bitch. To use the vernacular of the street...she was bugging.

“I WANT TO GO TO CONGRESS!! I WANT TO GO TO CONGRESS!!” Screams the Nevada Tea Party favorite and, three times Congressional election loser, as she gnaws on her own toenails in a grotesque display of double jointed-ness.

The men, monkeys, and midget look on worriedly. Elephant continues reading his newspaper and ignores the outburst...

L. Ron Hubbard leans in and, in a process known as, ‘auditing’, begins talking Sharron down off the ledge.

“Free your reactive mind Sharron...” L. Ron Hubbard coos... “Free your reactive mind...”

After she calms down, Charlton Heston points out, “To go to Congress, you need endorsements. To get have to stop being crazy.”

Elephant chuckles appreciatively at this statement...

Heston continues, “Also, you have to meet our demands. I can assure you that the N.R.A. will support you if you just relax gun restrictions and allow us to kill whoever...I mean...whatever...we want.”

“That’s not a problem...” From Sharron.

Frederick, the portly midget, joins the discussion. “You have to agree to a 70/30 split on My Little Pony meat sales and ALL pornography must be midget, rather than, dwarf based!”

L. Ron Hubbard worries about his dwarf-based porn commissions...

Dr. Zaius objects, “70/30?!? Are you mad? We need at least a 65/35 split on our end...”

“What about that woman primatologist?” Cornelius asks worriedly. “She has been seen at the round-ups...taking”

Elephant licks his finger and turns a page of the newspaper...

“That’s all we ask...let us kill whatever we want with any kind of gun we want.” Heston continues reasonably before being interrupted by Dr. Zaius’ hand on his arm...


Awkward silence fills the room at this breach of etiquette.

Elephant looks up from his newspaper.

As people, monkeys, and midget tried to figure out what to say...the door opens and in walks the ghost of our nation’s 40th President...Ronald Reagan.

A darling of the conservative right...Reagan’s memory has been evoked by every right-wing nut-log running for elective office since 1988.

In a complete and utter misrepresentation of his policies...and style...they defile the notion of “The Great Communicator,” by dodging the media while eschewing the pragmatism, he championed, in favor of their own narrow-minded bigoted ideological goals.

They are putrid pieces of fish, rotting on a pier, in the sun...


A Little Known Fact...Dwarves Invented Jelly Beans...

Everyone stands up when the former President enters. Reagan walks up to Sharron Angle and slaps her across the face...she staggers to a knee.

Far off in the distance...the Munchkins let loose with a ragged cheer...


“I told you Sharron,” Reagan warns. “If you used my name, image, or words in any of your crazy campaign plans again...I was going to slap the teeth out of your head. Don’t make me send Nancy after your stupid ass.”

“Yes, Mr. President, yes!” Sharron says. “Have you reconsidered endorsing me?” She finishes hopefully...

“Shut your stupid pie-hole bitch.” Ron says disgustedly. “I NEVER said you couldn’t raise taxes! I said you had to be pragmatic! You are a putrid piece of fish, rotting on a pier, in the sun.” He kicks her in the head before turning to leave...

Far off in the distance...the Munchkins let loose with a ragged cheer...


“Elephant.” The former President nods to Elephant.

“Mr. President.” Elephant returns the nod before asking, “I will see you at the club, sir?”

“Of course, Elephant.” The President says with a smile. “I want another chance at beating you at a game of chess!” He leaves.

L. Ron Hubbard helps Sharron into her chair. Everyone resumes their seats. Elephant picks up his paper...

“Financing is also a concern.” L. Ron Hubbard takes up the agenda. “We need to find the Ruby Slippers to finance media buys and pay for rent on campaign headquarters.”

Frederick steps into the conversation. “We are following the group...they are all back in Reno and have split up. We are monitoring the situation. When they find the slippers...we will find the slippers...and then we will take them.”

After some more housekeeping details...the group began to break up. L. Ron Hubbard left to deliver a speech on Dianetics. Frederick leaves to monitor the hunt for the Ruby Slippers. Heston and Dr. Zaius make nice and agree to split a cab. Cornelius accompanies them.

Only Sharron Angle and Elephant are left in the room.

“I assume your presence represents the unasked question in the room.” Sharron says dismissively to Elephant.

Elephant puts down his paper, finishes his espresso, and removes his glasses before calmly asking...

“And what question would that be, Sharron?”

“THE OBVIOUS QUESTION!” Sharron screams. “Why won’t main stream Republicans endorse me??”

“Pfft.” Retorts Elephant. “That’s hardly a question...they won’t endorse you because you are absolutely insane!” He chuckles before saying, “No. That is not the question that my presence represents.”

“What question do you represent, then?” Asks an uncomprehending Sharron Angle.

“I represent the question of how did a major political party nominated you for ANY office.”

Far off in the distance...the Munchkins let loose with a ragged cheer...


“Aww...” From an obtuse Angle...

The fat was in the fire...


But a Midget Stole the Patent...

“Fuck John McCain!” The Hobbit says before angrily shutting off the television. “How dare he call Tea Party freaks Hobbits?!”

It was a weekly motel in one of Reno’s, less fashionable, districts. It was messy with threadbare carpets and lumpy furniture. Newspapers cover most flat surfaces.

It was one of his pet peeves. More to the point...he was appalled that Tea Partiers were offended by the comparison!

Scarecrow sits on the couch where he methodically applies a lighter to the burnt underside of his tweak pipe. He rolls the pipe between his fingers like a Catholic, manipulating Rosary beads, at High Mass.

His search for car batteries had been successful...

The billowing, thick, white-smoke leaves his lungs as his eyes dilate to the size of pie pans...

On another couch...two junkies are shooting up. Known locally as, Pistol and Mary, they had just scored a ten-sack from the ‘big man’ Jimmy Brown...a local drug dealer.

The Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, wasn’t a druggie...he was a thief. A burglar to be more precise. It was while doing a two-year stint for commercial burglary that Baggins had met Scarecrow. In for drug offenses, Scarecrow had shared a cell with him for six months.

“Hey!” Interjects an excited Scarecrow. “I just saw that one came in on a broom and it was like crazy, YO!”

Pistol and Mary nod off into their opiate hell...

Bilbo lights a blunt and takes a deep hit before saying, “Angle is a putrid piece of fish, rotting on a pier, in the sun!” He exhales...

“It did smell like rotting fish when she was there.” Scarecrow agrees.

They began talking about the recent event when Scarecrow mentions the Ruby Slippers.

“Yeah...the fuckers thought I took them.” Scarecrow remonstrates indignantly.

After noting that is was silly NOT to trust a tweaker...Bilbo gathers information on the slippers...

“So who took them?” He hits on the blunt...

Pistol falls off the couch and lands on the dirty carpet with a thud...

“I have to think that bitch Angle took them.” Opines Scarecrow. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

They talk for awhile and reach an agreement. Scarecrow would return to the group and let Bilbo know when the slippers had been located...

(End Part 6)

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)(Part 7) (Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)


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