Well, hi! I had this brilliant idea this morning, and since I didn't have school today (stupid snowstorm), I wrote this down! I hope you enjoy it! Please review!
Disclaimer: I literally own none of this. Even the ending (which deviates from the original plot of Monty Python and the Holy Grail) is not mine because I took it from somewhere else! So none of this mine. Sob.
She's a Witch!
A group of Unionist monks wearing hooded black robes walked through the streets, chanting in the dead language of Ancient Oz, "Pie Jesu Domine!" Clap! "Dona Eis Requiem!" They hit themselves in the foreheads with the boards they were carrying between each stanza of the chant, and then started the chant over, repeating the process as they walked. An angry mob of townspeople raced through the streets in the village of Center Munch, dragging a woman behind them. "A witch!" they cried. "A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch!"
They ran up to the mayor of Center Munch, who was standing on a platform, overseeing the daily activities, while also trying to get a swallow to carry a coconut. It wasn't working. One Munchkin shouted, "We have found a witch! Might we burn her?"
"Burn her! Burn!" shouted the crowd.
The Mayor replied in his silly-sounding voice, "How do you know she is a witch?"
One man boldly answered, "She looks like one!"
"Bring her forward," the Mayor commanded.
"I'm not a witch!" the woman said. "I'm not a witch!" She was struggling, but was looking ridiculous because of her long, pointy, carrot-looking nose and her hat, which looked like a tin funnel. The Mayor thought she looked strangely like the governess, Nessarose Thropp. No—she was the governess, Nessarose Thropp!
"But you are dressed as one!" the Mayor said to the governess.
"They dressed me up like this!" she argued.
"No we didn't!" the crowd replied. "No!"
"And this isn't my nose! It's a false one," she said hotly.
"Well?" the Mayor said, referring to the crowd and expecting an answer.
"Well, we did do the nose," one Munchkin said.
"The nose?" asked the Mayor.
"And the hat…" the man said. He then got excited again. "But she is a witch!"
The crowd responded excitedly and angrily. "Burn her! Witch! Witch! Burn her! Witch!"
"Did you dress her up like this?" asked the Mayor.
"No…no…no," the crowd said, but then changed their minds. "Yes…yes…a bit, a bit."
"She has got a wart!" one man shouted.
"What makes you think she is a witch?" the Mayor questioned of the angry mob of Munchkins.
"Well, she turned me into a newt!" a Munchkin shouted.
"A newt?" asked the Mayor, seeing that the man who had spoken was clearly human.
Silence at first, and then: "I got better."
"Burn her anyway!" the crowd shouted, wanting to see a witch get burned for no apparent reason. "Burn her! Burn her!"
"Quiet! Quiet!" the Mayor ordered. "Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch."
"Are there?" the crowd asked. "What are they?"
"Tell, me what do you do with witches?"
"Burn!" one man shouted, instigating the crowd to scream, "Burn! Burn them up!"
"And what do you burn apart from witches?"
A pause ensued, showing the group of men clearly making their brains think harder than ever before. Finally, "More witches!" a man shouted.
The Mayor could have slapped himself in the forehead.
"Wood!" a slightly more intelligent man shouted.
"So why do witches burn?" the Mayor asked, hoping that his fellow Munchkins might be smart enough to answer the question.
"Be—… 'cause they're made of wood?" a man asked.
"Good!" the Mayor replied, obviously patronizing his subjects.
"Oh, yeah, yeah…"
"So how do we tell if she is made of wood?" asked the Mayor.
"Build a bridge out of her!" shouted one man.
"Ah, but can you not also build bridges out of stone?"
"Oh, yeah," said the crowd, thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking until their tiny, little Munchkin brains hurt.
"Does wood sink in water?" supplied the Mayor.
"No, no," said one man.
"It floats! It floats!" said the next man.
The first man shouted, "Throw her into the pond!"
"The pond! The pond!" responded the crowd.
"What also floats in water?" asked the Mayor, upset that the people of Munchkinland were really this stupid. Honestly, it was no surprise that very few people, if any, ever made it out of their Munchkinland farms and on to greater things, like University or a real job somewhere else.
"Very small rocks!" The Mayor and Nessarose rolled their eyes.
"A duck," supplied a new voice. Everyone looked around for the source of the female voice, but none was to be found.
"Exactly!" shouted the Mayor, searching for the female voice who was more intelligent than the average Munchkin.
"If…she…weighs the same as a duck, she's made of wood…" one man said, obviously going through the thought process as fast as he possibly could.
"And therefore…" said the Mayor.
"A witch!" the man shouted.
The crowd responded happily. "A witch! A witch!"
"We shall use my larger scales!" smiled the Mayor. The crowd dragged Governor Nessarose Thropp over to the large hanging baskets, placing her in one and a duck in the other. "Right, remove the supports!" The Munchkins knocked the wooden blocks from beneath the baskets. At first, the scales showed that Nessarose was heavier than the duck, but then the duck was heavier than Nessarose, and then the scales showed that Nessarose Thropp was equal in weight to the duck.
"A witch! A witch!" screamed the crowd.
"It's a fair cop," sighed Nessarose, but then she got her wits about her and started struggling again, screaming all the way to where the men were going to burn her.
The Mayor approached the hooded figure who had spoken earlier. "Who are you who are so wise in the ways of science?" the Mayor asked of the person.
But before he could get an answer, the sky went dark and high winds aroused. There was a roaring sound, like a train, and then a giant cyclone started approaching Munchkinland. The Munchkins ran away from the post, where Nessarose was tied to be burned, but then a house fell from the sky and landed on the Wicked Witch of the East!
The Mayor turned back to the hooded figure, but she was gone.
And then everyone realized that the Wicked Witch of the East was, in fact, dead.
And there was much rejoicing.