The unlucky


Ojo pulled up next to Dorothy, skidding his tires in the gravel.

“Hello Dorothy, still having adventures?” He tried. Dorothy did not turn her eyes to the left or the right, just kept walking forward, forward. Toto pushed open the lid of the basket and looked at Ojo. “Still mad, still mad,” he whined, looking first at Dorothy, then at Ojo. His little black eye winked. He licked his nose.

Ojo’s nickname had been Ojo the Lucky, but truth be told, he’d always been Ojo the fuckup, Ojo the guy who couldn’t do much of anything right, and one of the worst things he’d ever done was follow Dorothy across the Deadly Desert back to Kansas and from there to a steaming industrial hellhole in New Jersey, where they had briefly lived together on Karen Silkwood Drive.

Bad idea. Not even Ojo’s idea, but there you have it. He was not a leader, he was unlucky, and here he was, a Munchkin too far from home.

“Look, can I at least carry your groceries home?” he asked, trying to keep his whistling little voice from whining. Dorothy hated whining Munchkins, told him often. Swatted him with the half-burnt broomstick from Winkieland when he got too close.

She walked out through the dirt yard to the road, slamming the gate in Ojo’s face. He hated New Jersey. He pretty much hated Dorothy by now too. But she was the only connection he still had with Oz.

He looked at her disappearing down the brick pathway to the parking lot where her Saab was parked. His Mini Cooper was two spaces down. She keyed it as she passed. Toto licked his nose again, looked at Ojo, winked twice and said, “No place like home, Ojo, no place like home.”

At least, that’s what Ojo thought he said, as they drove out of sight, around the curve, on the old brick road.


2 Responses to “The unlucky”

  1. 1 Kenny Mann November 12, 2007 at 5:39 am

    Very nicely mixed. There’s got to be more where that came from.

    (Now I’m thinking of a way I might want to replace people I encounter around town: Buam characters.)

    Silkwood works. I don’t know about giving Toto full command of the big picture.

    The way you have snapped it all in place would seem to indicate that you have more to work with down the same road. Doesn’t seem like it would get flabby before getting more done. (A fraught Glinda would be refreshing.)

  2. 2 Teresa November 12, 2007 at 8:10 am

    Thanks Kenny Mann — I agree that Toto can’t be the big dog in this story; he was just acting as conduit in a ten-minute quick write. It is an enticing idea to follow it — I think when this novelwritingmonth exercise concludes I’ll come back and have a crack at it.

    Checked out your site — I’ve been working on ways to make the blog work for the novel-writing process, too. It looks good, you’re allowing bits and pieces to float around til they find their place. Great to give the narrator his own place.

    Thanks for reading — Feels good to make contact with other works in progress.

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