Dorothy stepped out of the house and looked around in amazement. The twister had dropped her in the strangest land she’d ever seen. Everything was bright and colorful. The houses, the candy apparently growing from the ground, even the road was bright yellow. She noticed a few strange, very short people looking at her and smiled at them in what she hoped was a disarming way.

“You killed her,” one of them whispered.

“Excuse me?”

“You killed her!” he repeated, “You killed the Wicked Witch of the East! The horrible woman who enslaved us and mistreated us! She took all the food we grew, took our children and turned them into hideous misshapen flying monsters, kicked our dogs…but now she’s dead!”

“Oh,” said Dorothy, “Well it was an accident, but I suppose…”

“Murderer!” the man shouted.

“What?” Dorothy said, taken aback.

“Murderer!” he repeated, pointing at her accusingly.

“But I thought you hated the witch, I thought you were glad to see her dead!”

“Don’t get me wrong,” the man explained, “The witch was horrible and we are glad to see her dead. But killing someone is a crime, no matter what a monster that person was.”

“OK,” said Dorothy, “this is ridiculous. I’m just going to take her ruby slippers and get out of here.”

“Oh God,” groaned the man, “Now you’re defiling the dead? Police, help!”

Officer Munchkin was on the scene right away and he took the young murderer to jail where she lived out the rest of her days.

Remember kids, crime doesn’t pay.