"The Wizzard of Shnozz" By Distracted Genre: Sincerest Form of Flattery Challenge, humor Rating: PG Disclaimer: Yep. Still not mine. Summary: This author parodies everyone, so... (takes a deep breath before plunging into insanity) Here we go! Let’s consider for a moment the plight of one Constable Banger Soggybottom, Sheriff of the village of Soggybottom, and thus a local celebrity in his own right, being the great-great-great-grandson of Baron Trifle Soggybottom, the august founder of the community. He’d been a bit busy of late, this constable, what with the sudden appearances of several great glowing globes of light in the surrounding countryside which tended to pop like huge balloons with quite a concussive force. One of them had actually injured Farmer Tam’s prize stallion the day before, turning him into Farmer Tam’s prize gelding. The men of the village had been walking about rather carefully since. This was, however, the first globe that had brought visitors. The crowd was dense about the site of the occurrence, and Constable Soggybottom tried to shoulder his way through. Despite his considerable bulk and his impressive uniform, no one wanted to step aside. “Make way! Constable coming through!” he shouted officiously. No one seemed to pay him much mind. They were too busy laughing, shouting, and patting the newcomers cheerfully on the back in thanks for a service well-done. The poor things looked a bit confused and bedraggled in the hubbub. One was a sandy haired man with piercing blue eyes, an unusual trait in that land of dark haired, darker eyed inhabitants. The other appeared to be a large, wingless faerie of some sort, quite attractive as faeries went. They stood near what looked like a severed segment of an iron bridge complete with railing, a massively heavy construction neatly cut into a perfect semi-circle with edges that still smoked in the crisp autumn air. A pair of legs protruded out from beneath the huge half-disc of metal mesh. After a moment of careful study, Soggybottom recognized the appendages in question. They belonged, or rather evidently had once belonged, to Brunhilde the Terribly Hideous, otherwise know by the local populace as the Heinously Evil Witch of the Northeast. Brunhilde was not very popular in these parts, being responsible for no less than three droughts and six cases of pestilence in the past five years alone, but even Constable Soggybottom hadn’t had the nerve to demand that she leave town. In fact, the last farmer to confront her had been turned into a large toad. He could see now why much was being made of the newcomers. “Here now, move aside!” bellowed Soggybottom as he lumbered through, reaching the new arrivals through the crowd by virtue of sheer mass. The townspeople yielded with only minimal grumbling. “We just wanted ta meet ‘em, Constable!” exclaimed Davy, the local blacksmith, glaring from beneath his single shaggy eyebrow with an affronted expression. Soggybottom eyed the young man’s soot-stained green-tinted biceps as they bulged from beneath his sleeveless tunic and smiled a conciliatory smile. It never was a good idea to make Davy angry. No one liked him when he was angry. “No need to get riled up, now, Davy,” said the constable soothingly. “Just give me a chance to talk to these folks and find out what happened. By the looks of thinks, they’re a little confused by all this fuss.” Davy exhaled, and grimaced a bit with embarrassment. Then he nodded and shuffled off back to his shop to pound out more horseshoes. The rest of the crowd took the hint, and started dispersing as well, leaving Soggybottom face to face with two very bewildered new arrivals to the town. They both wore uniforms. Curiously enough, the uniforms were not the same. The young man in blue pulled a device from his breast pocket, adjusted it, and then began to speak. “Are you in charge here, sir? Can you maybe explain what’s goin’ on?” he asked respectfully, with a hopeful expression. Soggybottom’s chest swelled with pride, and he smiled expansively at the young man. Even this stranger knew who was important around here. That would teach the others a thing or two. He pulled out a pad of paper from his right breast pocket and flipped efficiently to an empty page. Then he pulled a pencil from his left breast pocket, licked the point of it just for effect, and looked up at the fellow. “Well, now... Mister...?” The constable paused for him to fill in the blank with an expectant expression. “Tucker,” supplied the visitor. He exchanged a look with the scarlet clad faerie, as if he were unsure of whether he should say anything else. Soggybottom scribbled the man’s name down and turned to his companion. “And you, Ma’am?” he asked politely. “T’Pol,” she supplied succinctly. He scratched his head a bit over the spelling for that one, but managed to muddle through. Then he looked back up at the two of them with a bright smile. “So... Mister Tucker and Mistress T’Pol, to what do we owe the honor of your visit to our little village on this fine day?” he asked breezily. Tucker gave him a puzzled look, and exchanged another glance with his female companion before replying. “We were kinda hopin’ you’d be able to tell us that, Mister...?” he paused in unconscious imitation of the constable himself. Abruptly, Soggybottom realized that he’d neglected to introduce himself. He pulled his notepad to his ample beltline and executed a brief bow. “Chief Constable Banger Soggybottom of the municipality of Soggybottom at your service,” he announced proudly. When he straightened, the fellow in the blue uniform had his tongue stuck in his cheek. He looked amused. Soggybottom sighed. It was, unfortunately, quite the usual reaction he got when introducing himself to strangers. It never failed. “Ah...well...” The young man coughed and wiped something from his eye. “Constable... Soggybottom...” He cleared his throat and seemed to regain control of himself. “Comman... er... Mistress T’Pol and I were workin’, you see, at our... usual place of employment. She was helpin’ me with... repairs,” he began. The faerie said nothing, but Tucker’s head swiveled to look at her in mid-sentence before he continued. “A large anom... um... unnatural ball of light entered our workplace and, well, sort of swallowed us up and dropped us here.” His eyes dropped apologetically to the pair of legs in garishly green and red striped stockings sticking out from beneath the huge piece of metal he’d arrived on. He winced. “Sorry!” he added with a grimace. Soggybottom paused in his note taking long enough to wave a hand breezily in the air. “Think nothing of it, Mister Tucker,” he said with his eyes fixed on the pad as he scribbled busily. “You’ve done the town a service. We’re quite grateful, actually.” He looked up again. “So, do either of you have any knowledge of the origin of these balls of light?” he asked. Once again, the newcomers exchanged a look. If Soggybottom hadn’t known better, he would have thought that they were talking to each other. This time, it was the faerie that addressed him. “You referred to them in the plural, Constable. Has there been more than one occurrence?” she asked, in a sultry voice that sent shivers up and down his spine. Soggybottom looked at Tucker with new understanding. No wonder the boy hadn’t stuck with his own species. This one was enough to make any man jump the fence. He cleared his throat and answered her question. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied efficiently. “Six in the past week, as a matter of fact.” She raised an elegant brow and gave Tucker another meaningful look. Then she lifted her chin with a determined expression. “Show us, please,” she told him firmly. She was very polite, but Soggybottom knew an order when he heard one. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said again, and began the walk toward Farmer Tam’s place at a brisk pace with both of them hot on his heels. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx T’Pol stood next to the paddock housing the huge black quadruped they’d come to study and examined the readings on her bioscanner with great concentration while Trip peered over her shoulder. The officious and overly cheerful constable stood to one side attempting to reassure the distressed-looking owner of the safety of his animal. “The animal’s DNA matches the biological material the doctor discovered last week at the site of the anomaly in Sickbay,” she sent. Trip’s pleased surprise was transmitted clearly. “So this place and the ship are linked somehow?” he sent back delightedly. “That would seem to be a reasonable assumption,” she replied cautiously. “We can’t be certain that it is a permanent state,” she warned him. “It would be logical to assume, then, that the longer we wait before identifying and taking advantage of another anomaly, the greater the chance that we will be deposited somewhere other than Enterprise.” “Like the middle of a black hole... or more likely just the vacuum of deep space,” added Trip wryly. She raised a brow and nodded her reluctant agreement. Trip lifted his head and called, “Constable! Is there anybody around here who can predict these balls of light?” T’Pol gave him an impressed look. He grinned at her as Constable Soggybottom approached. “There are some who claim to be able to do so,” Soggybottom told them thoughtfully. He pondered the question for a moment. “You’d best consult with a witch,” he told them with a sagacious nod. Trip placed his hands on both hips, gazing at the constable with a disbelieving expression. “A witch?” he demanded. T’Pol could sense his frustration. Soggybottom frowned. “I was under the impression that the local witch had recently become... unavailable,” she added calmly, without a trace of disrespect or disbelief in her tone of voice. The constable’s expression cleared, and he gave them both a bright smile. “Not that witch!” he replied in a relieved tone. “The good one’s who I meant, of course,” he clarified. He pulled a small instrument similar to a miniature trumpet from his inner jacket pocket. “I’m not supposed to call her except in an emergency, but if you want me to, I’ll call her for you,” he said with eager helpfulness. T’Pol nodded encouragingly, and so he placed the horn to his lips and blew a mighty blast—abominably off-key, but mighty nonetheless. Trip winced. T’Pol covered her ears. Presently, a ball of light roughly the size of a human head came down from the low lying cloud cover and came to rest about two meters above the ground. Trip appeared poised to jump into it, but T’Pol’s scan of the object revealed that it was not, in fact, an anomaly. As they watched, the shining ball elongated and then proceeded to transform itself into the figure of a woman. She was blonde, slender, and golden skinned, and wore a two piece garment which barely covered her primary erogenous zones. She smiled benevolently upon them all as she floated in midair. “Hey, dudes,” she said in a voice like bells wrapped in silk. “Like, how can I help you guys?” Trip blinked in shock. T’Pol raised a brow, and then pulled out her UT to check the programming. The constable gave the ethereal figure a sweeping bow. “Oh, most beautiful, wise and powerful Barbie, the Totally Cool Witch of the Southwest, we humbly ask a boon of you,” he groveled. The witch simpered a bit, smoothing her impossibly tiny waist with both hands. T’Pol caught a wisp of Trip’s reaction before he got it under control. The images that she received were quite strange. “Malibu Barbie? Who’s Malibu Barbie?” she send with puzzlement. He gave no response. He was too busy trying not to laugh out loud—certainly a potentially life changing if not life threatening action at such a moment. “Wow! When you ask me so nicely, like, how can I say no?” replied the Totally Cool Witch of the Southwest. Encouraged by her response, Soggybottom raised his head and continued. “Oh, wise one, these newcomers have come to our land by way of one of the huge balls of light that have been plaguing us of late,” said the constable with a nervous smile. “They’d like to know if it might be possible to predict when the next one will occur so that they can ride it back to where they came from.” He paused then, gazing at the witch as if he expected to be turned into a toad at any moment. His experience with Barbie’s late unlamented colleague had made him just a little overcautious. The witch’s perfect features twisted into a small and quite attractive moue of distress. “Oh, damn! Like, I totally have no idea how to do that!” she told them in a disappointed tone. She pouted prettily. “I guess you’ll need to see the Wizzard for that, and you don’t need me anymore.” She sighed, causing her bosom to rise and fall in a manner that seemed to catch Soggybottom’s-- and Trip’s—attention most effectively. While the men stood with their mouths hanging open, T’Pol asked, “And where can we find this Wizzard?” The lovely Barbie smiled, and waved her arm. Instantly, a path appeared. It was made of bricks of a peculiar pale pinkish-purple color... or perhaps it was purplish-pink. The path led away from the farm and across the countryside-- as far as T’Pol could see. “Where can you find the Wizzard?” echoed the witch dramatically. “Why... follow the mauvey brick road!” “Follow the mauvey brick road?” repeated T’Pol in a puzzled tone. What sort of word is “mauvey”? she wondered. “Follow the mauvey brick road to the Wizzard of Schnozz,” confirmed Soggybottom enthusiastically. “So we need to see a wizzard. The Wizzard of Schnozz,” confirmed T’Pol in all seriousness. She exchanged a look with Trip, who seemed to have recovered from his heaving-bosom shock and was now eyeing the road with a reluctant expression. “Right-o!” confirmed Soggybottom confidently. He leaned toward her and said in a confiding tone, “I wouldn’t mention his nose, though,” he tapped the side of his own substantial facial architecture. “He’s quite sensitive about that, you know...” T’Pol sighed deeply. This was going to be a very long trip. She could tell already. She turned to Trip. “Are you ready, Commander?” she asked ironically. He grinned back at her. “Guess so. Too bad we don’t have a little dog,” he replied jokingly. “A dog?” she asked with puzzlement. He laughed aloud and reached for her hand. She took it unselfconsciously as they stepped together out upon the pathway of oddly colored bricks and began walking. “It’s a long story, darlin’. I’ll tell ya on the way,” he said. End?

Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.

Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.