The Phantom of Oz, Installment #13
And a Writer's Life in the 21st Century
Hello! As most of you know, I’m serializing The Phantom of Oz here in a bit of an experiment. Once a month, you’ll still receive the “regular” Slightly Silly News, complete with trivia quiz, Random Stuff That Makes Me Laugh, and of course “Best Places to Hide the Body.” Watch for January’s edition this coming week!
If you missed earlier chapters of Phantom, you can find links to all of the earlier installments here. And before we get to reading…
I recently scheduled an entire five days to work solely on my new book, something I hadn’t done in years. It was glorious, thinking, writing, snacking on leftover holiday treats, writing some more. I got some really good work done and felt great about it. Then this Monday I opened the file I’d been working on to find this:
That’s right. Nothing. NOTHING. Blank pages where all my wonderful words had been. Once I could breathe again, I started the search for my files. It’s ongoing. Even though I backed it up in two separate places, it seems those places are somehow connected to iCloud which decided to overwrite my files, possibly due to a syncing problem with Scrivener, the writing software I use. I did find a file from December 31st but nothing to show for most of the work I did on my “writing retreat.” Bupkis.
I’m still working with Scrivener and meeting with someone at the Apple store today. Wish me luck.
On the good news front, the whole mess reminded me of this joke:
Satan decided to challenge Jesus to a computing contest. After all, Satan designed the computer so he figured he was sure to win. Jesus, being a nice guy, said, “Sure, why not?” God agreed to judge the contest.
So Satan and Jesus sat down at the keyboards and typed away. They moused. They made spreadsheets. They wrote reports. They sent e-mails. They downloaded. They did some genealogy reports (It seemed God was everyone’s father and mother). Jesus worked with heavenly calm and efficiency and Satan was faster than hell. Then, lightning flashed across the sky and the electricity went off.
Satan stared at his blank screen and screamed every curse word known in the underworld. Jesus just sighed. The electricity finally flickered back on and each of them restarted their computers.
Satan started searching frantically, screaming “It’s gone! It’s all gone! I lost everything when the power went out!”
Meanwhile, Jesus quietly started printing out all of his files from the past two hours.
“Wait!” Satan said. “He must have cheated.”
“Jesus doesn’t cheat,” God said.
“Then how did he do it?”
“Simple,” God said, “Jesus saves.”
Now, on to Chapter 10, “It’s the Ghost Who Did the Trick!” Happy reading!
Chapter 10, Part One
It’s the Ghost Who Did the Trick!
I stood offstage in the wings looking for Candy. The only people onstage were the kids and a pear-shaped woman about thirty years old. “You’re too fat,” a boy said to her. He looked vaguely familiar. “Too fat to fly.”
“I am not too fat,” she replied. “I am pleasingly plump.”
“Pleasingly plump like a plum,” said a girl’s voice.
“Thank you, Madison,” said the woman, who had short hair the color of a cherry Popsicle. “I am pleasingly plump like a plum. Ripe like a tomato. Juicy like a peach...”
“Nonetheless,” shouted a technician. “We need to recalibrate so we can fly you in safely. How much do you weigh?”
“I’m not sure,” said the woman—must be Eden. “I think about a hundred and seventy pounds.”
There was a collective gasp from the people onstage and in the theater. And a laugh from She Who Must Not Be Named. Babette stood a few feet from me, tapping her cowboy-booted foot. “And you say you’re not fat? What is that, one hundred and seventy pounds of muscle?”
“It’s one hundred and seventy pounds of awesome,” said Eden. “High five, Madison.” They smacked hands.
“Guys,” the stage manager said to the technicians, “can you recalibrate by the time Eden gets in place?”
“Of course,” said the one who’d spoken earlier. “We’re professionals.”
Eden walked past me to the twisting metal staircase that led to the facility’s fly space. I watched her climb, along with half the crew, who were admiring her pleasingly plump backside.
“Wait,” I said to Logan, who stood next to me. “The Wicked Witch of the East flies?”
“In this show, almost everyone flies,” said Logan. “After all, it is a space Oz-pera.”
A flash as Babette took a picture of Eden’s ass as she climbed. “Will fattie fly?” she said out loud as she typed into her Smartphone. Probably posting on social media.
Eden reached the catwalk. Hey. There was Candy, already in place on the catwalk among the beams and lights, standing next to a large silver orb about six feet in diameter made of a shiny fabric over a cage-like structure. I waved, but she didn’t wave back. Must not have seen me.
Logan followed my line of sight. “Glinda’s bubble spaceship,” he said. “Pretty cool, huh?” Eden stood on the catwalk, spreading her arms and legs so that two techies could strap her into a harness attached to a beam by a cable. “The Wicked Witch of the East wears a jet pack during the show,” Logan continued. “They’re not working in costumes until after break, which is good because the paint on the prop jet pack I made is still wet.”
“You made the jet pack?” I asked.
“Last one got ruined during the accident. It’s actually very cool that I got to do this. Prop and special-effects design is really my passion, and I’m hoping that—”
“All set?” the stage manager called up to Eden.
“Okay to go,” she said.
“Good. Let’s take it from the top of the scene. Lights up.”
A green light bathed the stage. “Standby Wicked Witch of the East, flying in downstage,” the stage manager said into her headset.
“That’s notice of a piece flying in,” Logan said. “Or in this case, a witch.”
“Bwahahaha,” Eden swooped down over the munchkins. Not too fat to fly at all. “My dear munchkins. Which one of you shall I munch for lunch today?”
“She eats munchkins?” I asked.
“Arrestadt took a few liberties,” Logan replied.
“Is it you?” She hovered over the boy who’d called her fat earlier. He looked nervous, her hanging over him like that. “Or maybe you?” Eden cackled at a girl munchkin.
“Standby Dorothy’s house, flying in downstage,” said the stage manager. A gray farmhouse dropped from the fly space, just a few feet from where we stood in the wings.
“Aaah!” Eden screamed as the two-dimensional set piece descended. From the audience, it would look like the house was falling on her. “Aaah!” She collapsed onto the stage floor as the set piece touched down, then stuck her legs out of a carefully placed hole in the house (made to look like a basement window). “Aaah!” she said one last time, then, “Gluck.” Her legs twitched once, then were still.
The munchkins cheered.
From my place in the wings, I saw Dorothy enter from backstage. Hidden by the set piece, she walked up to its backside, stepped around Eden, and opened a door that was cut into the house. The audience would see Dorothy stepping out of the farmhouse. Ah, the simple magic of theater.
“Hold,” said the stage manager. “Let’s run that again.” They did. Eden had just flown in when...
“The ghost!” said a man’s hoarse voice behind me. “She’s here. Up in the fly space.”
Watch next week for Installment #14, Chapter 10, Part Two: “It’s the Ghost Who Did the Trick!”
And if you haven’t read the first four books in the Agatha-nominated series:
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