Where Does the Red Brick Road Lead? – Part 3 (Timmy Taffy)

I knew where the Red Brick Road began, but would I still be able to follow it?  How would I get to the Rough and Gruff Realm of Roz?  Would the flying monkeys try to stop me?  What does Timmy Taffy know?

Continued from Where Does the Red Brick Road Lead? – Part 2.

After a long drive up from the border, I had arrived in Hollywood and spent the last few days perusing one used car lot after another.  I walked the perimeters, then up and down row after row of assorted beaters and clunkers, forced to make idle chit chat with pushy salesmen.  I searched in vain for signs of the red brick road, but no luck.  Had Marsha led me astray?

One after another, I crossed lots off my list.  Hope was sprinting away from me.  With short legs.  Choppy strides.  Disproportionately large head.  Never mind.

The Last Lot

It was late afternoon when I pulled in to the last lot on my list, a small one, maybe fifty cars, with a converted trailer operating as an office.  A sign over the door read, Taffy’s Used Cars.  Not a salesperson in sight.  I had the lot to myself.  Suited me.  I’d take my survey and leave.

I had completed my circuit and had squatted on my haunches to look under a 2015 Audi Allroad when I could see a shadow slide along the ground at my side.

“Can I help you?” said a voice.

Without standing, I looked over my shoulder and stared the owner of the voice directly in the eyes.  It was a little person, a dwarf, a midget, a Lilliputian, a homunculus.  He was – dare I say it – a munchkin!

Timmy Taffy

“Tim Taffy.  Taffy’s Used Cars.”  He held out his hand.  “Can I help you?” he said again when I didn’t respond to his first request.

“I’m not sure,” I said.  I took a chance.  “I’m a friend of Marsha Mallow.”  He rocked as though a wind had blown him backwards.  “She said you’d be able to help me.”

A stone curtain stared at me now.  “Never heard of her.”

I wasn’t about to give up.  “I’m looking for something in red.”  I stood and towered over him.  “Brick red.”

“We don’t have anything in that color.”

“No?”  Time for the direct approach.  “I’m looking for the R.B. and I think you know where it’s at.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on.  Tim Taffy?  That’s a munchkin name if I ever heard one.”

“I’m done here.”  He scurried off towards his office, me on his tail.

“Come on, Timmy, just point me towards it.”

He ascended the steps.  “It’s Tim.  Now get outta’ here.”  He slammed the office door in my face.

I tried the knob.  He’d locked it.  I banged with my fist.  “I’m not leaving until you talk to me, Taffy.  I’m gonna’ pull the information out of you.”

Not a peep.  I plopped down on the top step.  He had to go home at some point.  Didn’t he?

Down the Manhole

An hour had passed and Timmy Taffy remained locked inside the trailer.  After five minutes on the stoop, he’d pulled the shades, leading to another round of door-banging to no avail.  Every fifteen minutes after that, I’d yell and bang some more, but the interior had gone dark.  No lights.  No noise.  No response.  Was there another exit?

I decided to poke around and see if there were another way in – or out.  Dry earth crunched under my feet as I circled the building.  Behind the trailer grew a row of overgrown manzanitas.  Above the shrubs, an open window told the tale.

My head sagged.  Timmy Taffy must have climbed out.  Where had he gone?  I didn’t any see footprints leading away from the building.  Was he hiding in the shrubs?  That would be just like a little munchkin.  I shimmied along the wall, hoping to spy a clue, spreading the untrimmed branches of the manzanitas apart as I searched for a clue.

And there it was.  If I hadn’t submerged myself in the bushes, I would never have seen the manhole cover, half-buried in dirt.  So that’s where you’re hiding, eh?  It’ll be a black day in the Emerald City when I let a munchkin get the better of me. I leaned over and removed the cover, and that’s when I started to fall…

To be continued in Part 4…