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Twisted Tales of Time Travel – Chapter 7

By Carla Birnberg

“Here’s the list of demands. I’m at loss but I guess we have to meet them.”

“You think? What if we waited? Just to see what would really happen.”

“I think we both know what would happen.”

“Bleh,” I thought. “When I end up someplace within driving distance, I’m not sure I can even call it travizzling.”

I didn’t really feel as grumpy as I sounded, but I was still uncomfortably sore from my encounter with the Governor-elect of California. Who knew I was in such bad shape?

Michael walked down the row of plush seats toward me. “Hey Rose. What’s up? This place is nice. I’ve never been to Bass Concert Hall, have you?”

“No. My parents bought us tickets for The Wizard of Oz though.” I replied.

“Why do you think we’re here?” Michael asked. “Are we going to play one of the munchkins or something?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” I squirmed in my seat, trying to find any position where my sore abs didn’t scream at me. I pointed toward a man and a woman a few rows ahead of us. “I overheard those two saying something about receiving a list of demands.”

“Demands? Whoa! That sounds like kidnapping.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. We must have travizzled to locate a kidnapped cast member.”

“Listen to these demands,” the man continued. “I didn’t know this stuff existed: OPI Nail Pawlish in Poodle Pink. Le Pooch Shampoo. Black pearl dog-necklace. What do you think?”

“Well, Ribbons is Toto. And, in a way, Toto is the Wizard of Oz. But, Charles, you’re the producer. It’s your decision. ”

“Then no,” the man responded firmly. “If we meet one diva’s demands then we’ll have to meet all cast requests. Fire Ribbons and find a new Toto.”

The pair spun in their seats and faced us.

“Michael? Rose? Thoughts?” Charles said.

“We weren’t listening” Michael sputtered.

“Of course you were,” He replied. “That’s why you’re here. Ribbons is refusing to go on stage unless her demands are met, and I won’t do it. Now what?”

“Find another Cairn Terrier?” I offered.

“We can’t find one,” the woman explained. “Not one who can act anyway.”

“You need a dog.” I clarified. “And not necessarily a terrier?”

“I guess it doesn’t have to be a terrier,” the woman said. “Charles?”

“At this point any dog not requiring a monogrammed robe would be a joy to have on stage.” Charles half-joked.

Michael looked at me, read my thoughts, and frowned.

“Rose, that won’t work. Uh uh.”

“Hercules? It’ll work. I promise. See if you can talk any sense into Ribbons and I’ll get Herc.”

Before Michael could argue, I bolted from the auditorium.

“I’ll show you the closet that Ribbons quite unhappily uses as her dressing room,” Charles said to Michael.

“You will love Hercules.” Michael laughed. “He is one laid-back, brindle-colored Bullmastiff.”

The producer stopped walking and stood for a moment. “Did you say Bullmastiff?”

Michael nodded.

“The giant breed that drools and is, well, huge and generates prolific amounts of saliva!?” The producer didn’t sound happy.

“I’m back. I’m back.” I shouted to Michael and Charles as I dragged Hercules behind me. “Did you see Ribbons?”

“Not yet,” Michael said. “Get his mouth,” he whispered and pointed at Hercules’ jowls.

I looked around for something to use to wipe the rapidly forming rope of drool on Herc’s large muzzle. I found nothing and simply swiped at the rivulet with my hand, trying not to let Charles see.

“I’m here to play Toto.” Herc announced. “I need nothing except my lines.”

“Uh, OK” Charles sounded unsure. “We’ll need to make some revisions. I don’t imagine our prop department could make a basket large enough to hold you even if our Dorothy could carry it.”

“It’ll be fine, Mr. Producer. I love the Wizard of Oz.” Hercules said, flopping over chest to ceiling. “Really, no worries from my end.” Hercules pronounced as his tail thumped happily against the floor. “Just a script. In fact, The Wizard of Oz taught me that everything I need is here inside me.”

This remark appeared to make Charles less worried. “I wish that Ribbons grasped that.” Charles muttered. “Maybe you two could talk?” “Sure.” Herc responded. “Lead the way.”

Michael and I waited in the hall as Charles led Herc to Ribbons’ “dressing room closet” and let him inside.

About 25 minutes later, Hercules swaggered out with a tiny, tiara-wearing terrier riding on his back.

“Charles?” Herc motioned to the producer with his paw. “Ribbons wants to tell you something.”

“Thanks to Herc, my new acting coach, I understand.” Ribbons’ paw reached down and smoothed Hercules’ wrinkled brow. “I thought that materialpossessions made me a truestar. But, now I realize that it is what’s inside that makes me special and that’s all I need! I’dmuch rather be known as someone who’s caring, fair, and treats others with respect than as a diva. ”

“And?” Hercules prompted.

“And,” Ribbons looked up through her tiny liquid eyes. “I really want to come back, Charles, if you’ll take me.”

“Well, as the show teaches, having the courage to ask for what you want is half the battle. Ribbons, you and your coach are welcome back to the cast.”

Charles scratched Hercules’ chin lovingly, encountered something moist, and quickly pulled his hand away.

“Uh, Hercules,” Charles started. “As an expression of our immense appreciation, I’d love to give you an official Wizard of Oz bib.”

The idea for this week’s chapter of Twisted Tales of Time Travel was submitted by Toni Winkler’s 5th and 6th grade Reading classes from Bastrop Intermediate School and by Alexa, Lindsey, Julia, Becky and Kali in Cynthia Thomas’ 4th grade class at Oak Hill Elementary.

Carla Birnberg lives in Austin and leads local book clubs.

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