It was a fine autumn day, crisp and sunny, and I
was lolling at the forest edge, trying to catch a nap. A frightened partridge
whirred past my head. Then a rabbit ran by, looking perplexed and pointing a
thumb back into the woods.
I walked into the bush to see what caused the
animals to flee. I had not walked far when I saw a yellowish hue through the
trees and heard the rumbling of what I sensed was an argument.
I stepped into a clearing and a most unusual
scene. There, on a shimmering yellow brick path stood four people, three men
and a woman, gesticulating wildly and shouting crazily.
They looked as if they belonged on a film set.
One was dressed as a Lion, another as a Scarecrow and yet another as a Tin Man.
The female had long blonde pigtails and wore a green checkered pinafore and
ruby red shoes.
I asked who they were and why they were making
noise in my peaceful woods.
“Why do you need to know?” growled the Lion, who
wore a nametag on which was scrawled: “I’m Stevie. Vote for me.”
“Ignore him,” said the woman with the ruby red
shoes and a green nametag with Elizabeth printed in green ink. “Stephen never
wants anyone to know anything.”
“That’s right,” said the Scarecrow whose nametag
said: “I’m Justin. I’m ready and I apologize.”
“We’re following the yellow brick road to the
Emerald City to see the wizard,” he said excitedly, glancing about to see if a
crowd was gathering. “He’s going to grant just one of us our fondest wish. . .
.”
Elizabeth cut him off by breaking into song:
“Somewhere over the
rainbow
Way up high
Way up high
Oh why, oh why can't
I?”
“You looked pretty
high at the Parliamentary Press Gallery dinner when they dragged you from the
podium, Elizabeth,” sneered the Lion.
“Really Stephen you
must learn to control your gas emissions,” Elizabeth shot back.
That set off another
argument with both the Scarecrow and the Tin Man, whose nametag read Tommy,
jumping in.
They were loud and
nonsensical and upsetting the peace of my forest, and frightening the wildlife.
So I stepped into their midst and asked them to calm down and cease their
gabbling.
“People don’t
understand me,” sniffed the Lion. “They say I don’t have a heart. So I’m going
to ask the Wizard to give me one. People will vote for me then.”
“No, he’s going to
give me a brain,” said the Scarecrow. “Then I will stop saying dumb things like
only pro-abortion candidates can join my party. And a brain will help me with
math. Like learning that three minus five equals a deficit.”
“So what do you want
from the Wizard?” I asked Tommy the Tin Man.
“I don’t know what
to ask. What I really need is oil to loosen me up. But some of my candidates
keep calling the Alberta oil sands environmentally destructive so I don’t know
what to do. I just hope the Wizard will stop my joints from creaking.”
I walked over to a
woodpile I had neatly stacked for the coming winter. I sat down to think about how
to handle these strange people.
“What is that you’re
sitting on?” Elizabeth asked sharply.
“It’s my woodpile
for winter burning,” I replied. “A well-planned woodpile is as good as money in
the bank.”
“You mean you are going
to burn that? Create smoke! Destroy the environment!”
“And wreck our
oil-based economy!” roared the Lion.
Scarecrow and Tin
Man began shouting at each other. Something about economic theories and the
middle class but I couldn’t understand it.
“Well I never . . .
.” scolded Elizabeth who glowered then clicked the heels of her ruby shoes and
all four of them, and the yellow brick road, vanished.
Peace returned to the forest.
On the walk back out I passed a group of animals
huddled under some spruce trees.
“What was all that about, Shaman?” asked a
raccoon.
“Nothing to fret about,” I replied. “Just
nonsense that we humans call politics.”