Again. No plot. No nothing. A Wizard of Oz theme, for some weird reason. I dunno. I'm really scared too. But whatever. I think it's nice to have a nice, random time where I can just write a whole bunch of nonsense. Hehehe.

You children honestly have no faith in,

The wonders of the digestive system.

We won't go into detail, but long story small,

Susannah was okay. And so was Paul.

In fact, all the characters hadn't actually died.

'Cept for CeeCee. SHE GOT FRIED.

Well, some people probably did actually decease,

But I'm making a sequel, so shut up, please.

In general, everyone survived the first verse.

It's actually not so much a blessing, but a curse.

May God Bless Cee's poor rested soul, this day.

She's safe from my very drunken state.

All the other characters will have to SUFFER.

Jesse's got a gun. That's actually kind of hot.

Wouldn't it be funny if Paul DID get shot?

Well, I'm bored. So lets spice up this scene . . .

Suze was in her bedroom, HER FACE PAINTED GREEN.

That's right my friends, she was not at her best.

Suze is the reincarnated . . . WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST.

"Ah ha!" Suze cackles, "I plan to seek,"

"The ruby slippers!" But at the end of that week . . .

Why should stop by at Suze's house?

But Jesse de Silva, the murderous louse . . .

"Who the hell are you?!" she cried.

"I am your ex-boyfriend," he supplied.

"Oh," Suze said. But she suffered from amnesia.

And was ever prone to the epileptic seizure.

This whole Witch thing? It was the schizophrenia talking.

Suze snapped at Jesse, "Is it ME you're stalking?"

She looked down to Jesse's feet. "Are those shoes?"

"These are spurs," Jesse said, "Sorry, you lose."

Suze cooed, "Not ruby slippers . . . but they'll do."

Jesse cried, "NOT MY SHOES! I LOVE THEM!" Boo hoo.

Suze queried. 'My my. You have shoe fetish too?"

That was when Spike came in to protect his cowboy so blue . . .

Suze screamed, "I'll get you my pretty, and you're little . . .cat . . . too . . ."

She was obviously not getting paid much for this.

Spike exited the room, to take a cat-piss.

Then Paul stumbled in, looking very ragged indeed.

Suze raised her eyebrows. "You're just what I need."

Paul stopped. And stared. "Suze . . . you're GREEN."

"It's GROSS. It's DISGUSTING. You look OBSCENE."

Suze was horrified with this revelation.

"I got SWALLOWED by my PRINCIPAL," she said in indignation.

"However, as I said, I need you for my plan."

"You're my new winged monkey, you lucky man!"

Paul gulped. He swallowed hard. He was rather scared.

He always wanted to be Suze's monkey . . . but this was not fair.

She was GREEN. She had WARTS. The whole witchy enchilada.

And her black rags were NOT even . . . PRADA!

It was abominable . . . it was unheard of.

"I have an announcement to make," said Paul.

"Okay, so I don't love her after all."

"She looked hot. But love can't survive . . . this."

"I just can't see her now and be in eternal bliss."

So Paul was a coward . . . this hottie went to run . . .

And run he did . . . straight into the barrel of a gun.

Jesse's finger was on the deadly weapon's trigger.

At a time of life and death . . . all he did was . . .

Snigger.

Paul fell to his knees. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry for calling you a cowboy, I was so conceited!"

"I take it all back! I'm sorry, for it all!"

But luck was not with our poor friend Paul.

Jesse's grinned a smile.

His eyelid flickers.

He WHIPS a PISTOL from his KNICKERS –

(HEY. This is NOT Roald Dahl!)

Jesse's fingers around the gun were gnarled.

And then . . .

He snarled.

"This is the most powerful spectral gun in the world . . . "

"So just ask yourself one question . . . "

"Do you feel lucky?"

"HUH? PUNK?!"

"Not Clint Eastwood!" Paul groaned, appalled.

But with a BANG! Paul then falled.

Or fell. Oh hell, I can't rhyme this, jeez . . .

Suze burst back in the room. "No! It can't be!"

She turned her now crooked nose to Jesse.

"You've killed my winged monkey . . .and you were so MESSY!"

So then she conquered powers from her broken heart.

But only managed . . .

To fart.

. . . How odd.

A heroine's not supposed to pass flatulence.

. . . Are we in past or present tense?

Susannah cried, "You evil ghost!"

"I've killed the gay one," he dared to boast.

. . . The world stopped.

"P-P-Paul was . . . gay?!"

The rain didn't seem to stop that day . . .

For it was true, it was known well,

Paul was homosexual.

For it was tattooed on his big toe,

"I LOVE JESSE, HE'LL NEVER KNOW."

Susannah's witchy state disappeared.

She warts burnt off, her facial hair sheered.

It was a nice turn of events.

Yet still today, she still resents . . .

How hot Paul was when they kissed long ago.

"He was pretending I was JESSE," she scowled in woe.

. . . Indeed he was. It's rather gross.

To be madly in love with a ghost.

But even grosser than that . . .

Is when that ghost . . . loved him back . . .