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You Clicked Your Heels and Wished for Me-4


You Clicked Your Heels and Wished for Me-4

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Title: You Clicked Your Heels and Wished for Me
Rating: Pg (come on! it's the wizard of oz)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
   “Alright, I spy something ... yellow and made of ... brick and ....”
    “The road, Brendon, the road.”
    “Yeah!! How’d you guess?”
    “It’s the about the 30th time you’ve I spy-ed it.”
    Patrick, Penny and Brendon have been walking down the yellow brick road for almost 2 hours now. The corn field is far behind them and there is a thick forest just a few feet away. When they reach the edge of the forest, the trio sits down to rest.
    “Geez,” Brendon says, stretching out his legs, “my feet are killing me. I haven’t walked this far in ages. Come to think of it, I’ve never really walked any where on a count I was strapped to that pole forever. Hahaha.”
    Patrick doesn’t reply. He’s laying on his side with his back to Brendon, holding his stomach and sighing heavily. Worried, Brendon leans over his new friend to see what’s the matter.
    “Patrick? You okay?”
    “Huh,” Patrick groans, turning on his back and looking up at Brendon, “oh. I’m fine, Brendon. It’s just, we’ve been walking for a long time and I’m really hungry so I don’t feel that good.” Penny whines and licks Patrick’s face to comfort him. Patrick giggles and holds his dog in his arms like a child griping their favorite toy. Very slowly, Patrick begins to close his eyes.
    “Well, hold on.” Brendon says, rubbing Patrick’s shoulder, “I’ll find you something to eat.” Patrick nods in response just before he falls asleep. Brendon stands up and looks around. ‘Where the heck am I gonna find food?’  he thinks, scratching his head. Just then, he notices an orchard of apple trees just across the way. Brendon walks toward the trees and reaches out for an apple that’s hanging of the end of a branch.
    Just as he’s about to pull the fruit off the tree, something sparkling in the sun catches his eye. Curious, Brendon goes to look at it. As he nears the object, he can tell that the object is rather large and made of pure tin. Before he knows it, Brendon is face to face with this tin object.
    “Golly,” he says aloud, “It’s a man! A man made out of tin!” He bangs on the man’s chest and examines the man’s body. Suddenly, the man begins moan, but his expression doesn’t change. Surprised, Brendon looks the man in the eyes.
    “Did you say something?” he asks.
    “MMMMHHMM!” The Tin Man moans again, this time more loudly.
    “What was that?”
    Unsure of what the man was saying and a tad bit frightened, Brendon scurries back to Patrick’s side. “Patrick, Patrick wake up!” he coaxes, shaking his friend’s shoulder, “I have to show you something.”
    “Oh, Pete, honey stop it.” Patrick mumbles in his sleep. Confused, Brendon pauses for a moment.
    “Who’s Pete?” he asks, shaking Patrick’s shoulder even harder.
    “Huh, wha ... what’s going on?” Patrick yawns, opening his eyes. He then looks at Brendon with tired eyes. “Brendon, why’d you wake me up?” he asks, slightly annoyed.
    “Sorry. Did I disturb your dream about Pete?” Brendon teases. Patrick’s cheek’s turn red with embarrassment.
    “What is it, Bren?” he asks, changing the subject.
    “OH! There’s a man over there in the orchard an-and he’s made of tin, Patrick! Come on I’ll show you.” Brendon takes Patrick by the hand and pulls him over to the Tin Man, with Penny scurrying to keep up.
    “See, look!” Brendon says, pointing at the man, still moaning as loud as possible. Patrick walks over to the Tin Man and puts his ear close to his mouth.
    “I think he’s saying something.” Patrick says, “I think ... he’s saying oil can.”
    “Oil can what?” Brendon asks.
    Patrick rubs his eyes and ponders for a moment. He then sees a small oil can at the Tin Man’s feet.
    “Oh! Oil can!” he says, picking it up. He then looks the Tin Man in the eyes. “Where do you want to be oiled first?”
    “Mhmm.” he mumbles.
    “I think he said his mouth.” Brendon says. Cautiously, Patrick squirts a bit of oil on the corners of the Tin Man’s mouth and as he does, the Tin Man begins to move his jaw side to side and then up and down.
    “Thank Oz! I can talk again!” he exclaims, taking both Patrick and Brendon by surprise. “Oh, my elbows! Please oil my elbows an-and my arms an-and...”
    “Okay, okay, calm down.” Patrick says with a chuckle. “I’ve got it.” He kindly squirts the Tin Man’s joints and makes it easier for him to move.
    “What happened to you, Mr. Tin Man, uh, sir?” Brendon asks, swooping a barking Penny up into his arms.
    “Well,” the Tin Man explains as Patrick oils his neck, “about a year ago, I was chopping that tree over there when suddenly it began to rain. Right in the middle of a chop, I rusted solid!”
    “Dang!” Patrick says, stepping back next to Brendon, “That sucks.”
    “Tell me about it.” the Tin Man replies, swinging his arms around to loosen his joints. “But thanks to you guys, I’m alright now.”
    “Alright?” Brendon says, handing Patrick his dog, “I would say your perfect!”
    “HA! Perfect?! Bang on my chest if you think I’m perfect! Go on, bang on it.”
    Brendon and Patrick look at one another in confusion. Curious, Brendon bangs on the Tin Man’s chest. There’s a loud echo.
    “Whoa!” Patrick says.
     “What an echo!” Brendon adds. The Tin Man shakes his head in sadness.
    “It’s empty.” he tells the boys, “My maker forgot to give me a heart.”
    “No heart?!?” Patrick exclaims, “But how can you ...” He then remembers that he wasn’t in the normal world anymore. He is in a world where people can be made of straw and not have a brain but can still talk and people made of tin with no heart can live and breathe. “Never mind.” he says.
    “Hey! Patrick, what if he comes with us to the Emerald City?” Brendon suggests, “The Wizard could give him a heart.”
    “The Wizard?!?” the Tin Man asks, “Why are two walking all the way to the Emerald City to see him!?”
    “I need a brain and he needs to get back home.” Brendon replies.
    “Huh,” the Tin Man says looking at Patrick, “I thought you looked like an outsider.” Patrick nodded and held out his hand.
    “I’m Patrick Stump.” he says, “and this is Brendon Ur ... I mean Brendon the Scarecrow.”
    “Name’s Spencer.” the Tin Man replies, shaking Patrick’s hand.
    ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Patrick asks, himself.
    “But I must ask you,” Spencer says, “what if the Wizard doesn’t give me a heart when when get there?”
    “Oh, he has too!” Patrick says, “We’ve come such a long way already.”
    “HAHA HAHAHA! You call that long? Why, you’ve only just begun.” comes a cackling voice. The three boys look around in fear. Suddenly, they spot the Wicked Wentz of the West, crouching like a green gargoyle, on a tree branch, glaring down at the boys with an evil smile.
    “He’s been following us.” Brendon says, pointing a shaking finger at the Wentz.
    “Very good, my little haystack.” the Wentz mocks, “Maybe you really do have a brain?”
    “Don’t you dare make fun of him!” snaps Patrick, setting Penny at his feet and glaring back at the Wentz.
    “Aw, is someone having some special feelings for their new friend?” the Wentz challenges. Patrick’s cheek turn bright red, but he doesn’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger.
    “Here now, Wentz,” Spencer says, shaking his tin ax up at him, “you leave us alone.”
    “Oh, of course I will, my little tuna can.” the Wentz sneers, “As soon as Patrick gives me those shoes.” Brendon and Spencer look down at Patrick’s feet. Both of their eyes, widen as the bright red jewels sparkle in the sunlight.
    “Would ya look at those?” Spencer says under his breath.
    “You’ll never get these shoes, Wentz.” Patrick says, ignoring his friends’ awestricken faces. “I’ll never give them up.”
    “Oh, you won’t will you? Well, I can fix that.” The Wicked Wentz sticks out his right hand and begins to mumble strange words to himself. Too afraid to move, the three boys huddle together for protection.
    “What’s he doing?” Brendon asks, in a whisper, “What’s he saying?”
    “I’m not sure.” Spencer replies, “but I’m positive it can’t be good.” The Wentz closes his eyes and his words become louder.
    “I’m scared.” Brendon goes on, grabbing Patrick’s hand, “Patrick I’m ... Patrick?” Brendon looks at his friend and notices that Patrick is blankly staring directly at the Wentz with his mouth shaped in a goofy looking grin. “Patrick?!” Brendon says shaking his friend’s shoulder.
    Instead of replying, Patrick begins to move towards the Wentz; His eyes are wide and their normal green color is replaced by small hypnotizing spirals.
    “That’s it.” the Wentz, coaxes opening his eyes, and reaching out to Patrick. “Come to me. Come to me and give me those slip-ons.” Penny barks loudly and growls, deep in her throat.
    “Patrick snap out of it!!” Spencer yells. “Don’t listen to him!” Patrick continues to walk to the tree. He then reaches up to grab the Wentz’s hand. Just before his fingers are about to touch the Wentz’s, Brendon tackles Patrick to the ground, breaking the Wentz’s concentration and the spell.
    “FINE!!” the Wentz screams out in anger, “But let me warn you: This isn’t the end of it! I’ll be watching you, all of you!!!” With that, the Wentz disappears in a cloud of red smoke.
    “Is he alright?” Spencer says, kneeling beside the two boys. Brendon rises off of Patrick and sits next to him.
    “Patrick,” he asks, rubbing his friend’s shoulder, “you okay?” With a few blinks, Patrick returns to normal. He slowly sits up and looks at his friend’s.
    “I-I couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, “It ... it was like he was in my head or something.”
    “Well,” Spencer says, standing up and offering his hand to Patrick, “maybe you should be asking the Wizard for stronger will power.” Patrick chuckles and grabs the hand to help himself get up. Penny yips with excitement and rubs her head on Patrick’s ankle.
    “You really scared me, Patrick.” Brendon admits, handing Patrick his dog. “I thought you were a goner.” Patrick takes his dog into his arms and smiles at Brendon.
    “Thanks to you I’m alright.” he says, stroking Brendon’s arm with his free hand. Brendon blushes as Patrick’s finger’s intertwine with his. The two giggle to one another.
    “Um ... Are we gonna get going,” Spencer asks, “ or are we just gonna wait until the Wentz comes back?” Patrick swoops up his back pack and situates it over one shoulder.
    “Come on guys,” he says, grabbing Brendon’s hand again. “Let’s get a move on. It’s getting dark outside.”
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