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-L Frank Baum

Chicago, April, 1900

“Oh, Frank

I’htmares have made their way back And this story, about some very bad wizards, was most certainly written for adults Sure, the wonderment and the joy are retained, but this tiies in advance”

-CM Stunich

Oregon, March, 2020

The Magical Fucking Cyclone

The cyclone cellar is the only place in this da the cops on me

“There's no ventilation in here,”it over to her boyfriend I can't remember his name for the life of me, but it doesn't really matter Yori jumps between boys the way my Aunt Eroups just this week, all of them for causes I'm not a fan of One of theanisms Who the hell is pro-GMO?

“Of course there's no ventilation,” I say, taking the joint froers “It's a storm cellar The whole point is to keep air out, not let it in”

“We're going to hotbox your poor dog,” she says, tucking long dark hair behind one shoulder and gesturing at the black and brown Geraze to his silky ebon fur, chest rising and falling in a deep sort of sleep, and then I get up and climb the steps to the cellar door

“If I let hi one of the boxes of canned food to prop the door open Outside, there's nothing to look at but gray Gray grass, gray ground, gray house, gray sky Everything in Kansas is gray; I hate it here Maybe there are pretty parts, but all I've ever seen of it is this dump Sometimes there's corn Other times, it's just flat and empty and desolate

I lived in Washington before this, and even though pot was legal, I never smoked it