AS WE PASS by an old pile of metal, we hear groaning. We all freeze, looking around for the noise.
"What is that?" Dorothy asks quietly.
"I'm not sure, but it sounds like something we should probably stay away from." I reply.
"It's comin' from over there," the Scarecrow says, pointing towards the sound.
"What should we do?" My cousin asks, uncertain.
"Go over there," the Scarecrow points in the opposite direction and begins walking away.
Dorothy looks at me for help. "Seconded," I say, following the Scarecrow.
She sucks her teeth and grabs both our arms. "Someone's in trouble!"
"What that got to do with us?" I grumble, stumbling along behind my cousin.
"Well, I've seen some dope fresh crockpots in my day, but nothin' ever like him!" The Scarecrow says, while Dorothy desperately tries to hush him.
There's what seems to be a man made of tin, frozen midway through climbing up a tower of metal.
"He's tryna say somethin'," Dorothy says, getting closer to the Tinman.
He says something inaudible, and Dorothy asks: "What was that?"
The Tinman rolls his eyes and tries again: "I need oil!"
"He said he needs oil!" I announce. I guess he's all rusted up, and can't even move his jaw. After a brief search, the Scarecrow finds a can of oil, with a little spout on it. I take it and oil the Tinmans' jaw, so he can tell us what else he needs.
"Whew!" He sighs in relief, flexes his jaw, then sings a cool song about where we need to oil him and how he's been there for a while. It takes a minute, but we get him oiled up so that he can move properly again. At one point during his song, he chucks Dorothy under her chin, which is endearing to me, because I do that to her all the time. The Tinman does a dance break in his song, so that he can really move around his joints. He has a really great singing voice, reminding me of Chump back home. He was always singing or humming something, and he always sounded great. At the end of the song, he goes down on one knee, takes my hand, and kisses my knuckles, which is pretty charming. Damn, I think to myself, he's hot, charming, and he can sing? He's like the whole package. Dorothy and the Scarecrow burst into applause.
"How can I ever thank you?" The Tinman asks me, eyes sparkling.
"Well, you can start by saying goodbye," the Scarecrow takes my hand away from the Tinman and begins walking away. "Come on, girls, let's go."
"Wait," Dorothy calls after us, and I drag the Scarecrow to a stop.
"Come on now, Scarecrow, just give him a chance." I tell him quietly. "How did you get all rusted up like that ?" I ask the Tinman.
"Uh, well, would you mind?" He offers his elbow to Dorothy, and she and I help him up. "There we go! Well uh, I was out here fixin' stuff, tinkerin' one night when the strangest storm blew in. 'Fore I could duck for cover, I's rusted solid."
"That's terrible," Dorothy says, as I shake my head in pity for the poor Tinman.
"Yeah, well, that's life," the Scarecrow says, "c'mon girls, let's go!" He grabs both of our hands and tries to pull us away, but we both let go at the same time and turn back to the Tinman.
"I gotta say," I give the Scarecrow a look, "I've never met a man made of tin before."
"Well, you never met a talking Scarecrow either. I guess it's just one of those days. Can we go now?" The Scarecrow asks desperately, pointing away from the Tinman.
"Hey, take it easy, man," I tell him, patting his cheek.
"Uh, what's the hurry, son?" The Tinman asks.
"Honestly, Scarecrow, what's goin' on?" I whisper.
"He's gonna try and steal Dorothy from me! I want her all to myself," he mutters, blushing. "We got a date to see the Wiz!" The Scarecrow says louder so that everyone can hear, not allowing me time to think about what he just said. "He's gonna get Dorothy and Baby back home, and me some brains."
"Baby?" The Tinman asks, interested. "You're his baby?"
I shake my head. "That's my name."
"Oh, so uh . . . you're available to be my baby?" The Tinman smirks at me, readjusting his hat.
"If you want me to be, sugar," I say, winking at him. And then I slap my hand over my mouth. "What is wrong with me? I am so sorry, I'm not usually like this."
"Oh, believe me, I do not mind at all, Baby." The Tinman says, but the way he says it is suggestive.
Dorothy clears her throat loudly and gives me a look.
"But, uh . . . the Wiz can do all that?" The Tinman asks the Scarecrow.
I subtly place myself behind Dorothy, so that I can't say anything else that's stupid, while the Scarecrow nods vigorously.
"He can do anything," my cousin says, "he's the Wiz." I notice that she repeats what the Munchkin from this morning told us.
"I wonder . . ." the Tinman says wistfully, looking up to the sky. "Naw, naw, naw." He waves the idea away.
"What? What is it?" I ask, unable to hold my tongue.
"Uh, well," the Tinman says, taking a seat on the pile of metal. "Y'know I wasn't always made of tin." I look at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, there was a time I was flesh and blood, just like you. I was even in love." The Tinman smiles slightly. "Her name was Bertha."
Dorothy puts her hand over her heart. She's always been a sucker for love stories.
"Ooh, Bertha." The Scarecrow cringes at the name. I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
"Shh!" My cousin admonishes the straw man. "Go on," she encourages the Tinman.
The Tinman gives the Scarecrow a hard look before he continues. "Anyway, see the problem was there was this other gal – well, not so much a gal as a witch."
"Which witch?" My cousin asks cautiously.
Hopefully not the one we crushed, I think.
"Evamean the Wicked Witch of the East. Y'all know her?"
"You could say we ran into each other," I say, before Dorothy can snitch on us. "So what happened?"
"Now – now I swear I never encouraged her, but uh, ol' Evamean was sweet on me."
"I find that hard to believe." I speak up.
"'Scuse me?" The Tinman asks.
"You just seem like the type of man that would encourage all the ladies, just by smilin' at them.'' I freeze, unable to believe what just came out of my mouth. This is getting out of hand.
The Tinman looks me up and down and grins. "Why thank you, mama. Would you happen to be one of those ladies?"
"That depends . . ." I say cautiously, trying to keep out of trouble.
"'Cause, I swear I wouldn't turn you down if you was sweet on me," he winks at me, and I drop my gaze, completely embarrassed.
"Keep goin'," Dorothy says, nudging the Tinman.
I look back up at him, and he's still staring at me. He licks his lips before continuing. "Made no never mind, my heart belonged to Bertha. Now, I just wanna let you know, Baby, that this is all in the past."
"Now why would I need to know that?" I challenge, crossing my arms and raising one eyebrow.
"Just in case," he smiles.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
"I uh, I know I shoulda' manned up and told her, but . . . 'fore I could, ol' Evamean caught us kissin' in the woods. She let out a lightnin' bolt and knocked me clear 'cross the river. When I opened my eyes, I's like this!" The Tinman looks down at his silver body. "All ice-cold and steely hard – Bertha said she didn't mind, but turnin' me into tin wasn't the worst thing ol' Evamean done to me."
I wonder how much worse it can get, but before I can voice my question, the Tinman reaches for his chest and pulls open a panel to his chest cavity. I realize then, that it's empty. He doesn't have a heart.
"She said if she couldn't have my heart, then no one could, though I'm beginning to think that she didn't take my whole heart." The Tinman jokes, winking at me. "But uh, without a heart, I let ol' Bertha go." He closes the little panel and hangs his head.
Both Dorothy and the Scarecrow lay a hand on his knees, before the Scarecrow speaks. "That is the saddest story I've ever heard. C'mon, girls. See you later!" He grabs our hands and pulls us away again.
"Uh, you don't suppose the Wiz might –" the Tinman starts.
"Of course he can give you back your heart, right guys?" I give the Scarecrow another look.
"You really think so?" The Tinman asks excitedly.
"Well, I don't think, 'cause I don't got a brain," the Scarecrow says bitterly.
I roll my eyes at him and say to the Tinman: "You come with us to Emerald City. When the Wiz hears your story, he'll never turn you away."
The Tinman's smile drops. "Uh, naw, naw, uh – ol' Evamean still keeps watch 'round these parts to make sure I ain't happy. They don't call her 'Evamean' for nothin'. Uh, me travelin' with you would just put you in danger, but uh, thank you, thank you kindly." He takes his oil can and goes to the other side of the metal pile.
I nudge my cousin. 'Tell him,' I mouth to her.
"I guess you been rusted up, so you haven't heard: Evamean is no longer of this world." She pauses, and takes a deep breath. "See, what had happened was someone accidentally dropped a house on her."
"Come again, say what now?" The Tinman turns his head so as to hear her better. Then, he notices her shoes, and scoots slightly away, pointing at them. "Those are Evamean's shoes." Suddenly, he gasps in realization. "It was you! It was – you dropped a house on Evamean?" He asks incredulously.
"Well, technically, it's her house," my cousin points at me accusingly.
"I mean, I wasn't aimin' or nothin' but . . . yeah it was my house." I say, fidgeting; I mean, logically, he should be happy, right? She took everything from him.
"Baby, thank you so much!" He kneels down in front of me, and takes my hands and puts them up to his forehead. "Thank you so much!"
"So, um, how's about comin' with us?"
"You – you really mean it?" The Tinman asks, standing up.
I nod, shrugging.
"Oh, could my nightmare finally be over?" He looks up to the sky hopefully.
"Why not, sugar?" I ask him, before clenching my teeth. I need to stop sayin' stuff like that!
"Well, show me the way, darlin'!"
I gesture to the yellow brick road, and Dorothy and the Scarecrow break out into song again, and the Tinman joins them shortly. It seems to be a second verse of the song from earlier about easin' on down the road. Instead of waiting on them to ask me to join, I immediately get down, showing off some of my better moves.
We pass right on by the four cabs, not even pausing, and follow our own yellow brick road, making our own path.