Disclaimer: Wicked and all its accompanying everythings are the creation and property of Gregory Maguire. As for Twilight, I am more than happy to let Smeyer take the blame and bear the shame.

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It was a beautiful day in Forks, for as soon as Edward and Bella had married, the rain had ceased and all was sunshine.

On this beautiful day, two even more beautiful people were lying in a bed, staring at each others’ awesome beauty.

“Bella…” sighed Edward reverently, glittering in the light.

“Edward…” Bella interjected, staring.

In her bedroom, Renesmee alternated between playing with Barbies (specially made by Alice to be as beautiful as vampires) and reading her Homer in the original Greek. It was nothing to her, though, because at age four—around twelve in Renesmee years—she was already that damn smart. In fact, although she was registered as being homeschooled, Carlisle himself had a hard time keeping up with her. After all, she was the child of Bella and Edward.

How much better can you get?

Edward sparkled and Bella stared.

Bella sparkled and Edward stared.

Renesmee made her Barbies reenact the Trojan War.

Suddenly, the cottage began to shake. Oh, dear, Renesmee thought dreamily. Are they at it again? For this was, to be precise, her parents’ five hundred and seventy third to the nineteenth power cottage in four years (vampire sex is violent—but beautiful), and she didn’t think she could take moving again.

“Holy crow!” Bella yelled. “The house is shaking!”

“I know!” Edward responded to show that he was aware. “I think it must be some kind of—TWISTER!”

Then the cottage lifted from the ground and began to whirl through the air. The wind blew so hard this story's fourth wall tore off completely.

And the rest was silence.

For about five minutes they all lay on the floor, unconscious as the cottage whirled through the atmosphere.

Bella stirred. “Edward?” she queried humorously. “Were we that intense?”

Edward shook his head.

The stood up and went to the window and stared in shock. They were in the air! The typical man in a bathtub spun past, scrubbing himself as if unperturbed to be in an air funnel with flying cows. An old woman pedaled by on a bicycle.

At one point a blue Ford Anglia—“Our garage is, like, so much better stocked,” muttered Edward emphatically in that beautiful nineteenth-century manner—zoomed alongside. The two boys inside stared at Bella, sparkling in her nude glory like a statue, and the car suddenly did a flip.

“Perhaps we should put something on,” Bella decided fortunately.

They put on the clothes that had been thrown on the floor, and only just in time too, for the cottage bumped down with a hard thud.

And the rest was cheering.

Well, duh. Edward was there.

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It had happened so fast that nobody even had a chance to cry out—Nessarose had been speaking, the Munchkins had been trying to stay awake, and then out of the blue a farmhouse had fallen on her head.

“It’s a miracle,” one boy ventured after a minute of shocked staring, and the onlookers had no doubt about it. A flying house, after all! Who had ever heard of such a thing?

Their amazement grew as the door of the house opened and a girl—a human, live girl—stepped out with her dog. She looked around and her eyes grew wide. “Toto,” she said cautiously. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” She glanced at the Munchkins. “Excuse me? Where am I, would you know?”

One brave Munchkin man stepped forward. “You’ve killed the witch!” he said, ignoring her question. “The Wicked Witch of the East—you’ve killed her!”

Dorothy followed his pointing finger to the feet poking out from underneath the house. She gasped. “Gracious! Oh, dear, I’m so sorry! I never would have ever wanted to kill somebody, ever—”

But she was drowned out by a wave of cheering from the newly-freed Munchkins. What was also drowned out was the sound of a small, quaint cottage dropping down inconspicuously behind Dorothy’s house.

The Cullens looked out of their windows for a long time to make sure that everybody was gone before they emerged. The sun was out, after all, and they could not allow themselves to be seen. They did not know precisely what had happened, but one thing was sure: something had happened.

“Something has happened,” Renesmee told her parents sagely.

“Something has happened,” Edward agreed.

“Yes, something has happened,” Bella chimed in, making the vote unanimous . “Edward, my darling, would you by any chance be able to observe a reason for us not to venture into this strange, unknown, unfamiliar, environment?

Edward poked his head through the window. “I see nobody,” he declaimed. “It must be safe to leave.”

They left the bedroom and went to the door and opened it and stepped outside.

They all looked

“Holy crow!” she encapsulated adjacently. “I think we’re someplace different!”