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That girl will talk to anyone who so much as blinks at her.
Where does she go during a tornado? To her bed, in our clapboard house. As if we haven’t drilled for this before.
Apparently she has no problem getting strung out on opium with strangers.
Tell her you’re a “good witch” and she’ll just believe you right away.
Is rendered helpless by an hourglass, but will wander off her own farm on the slightest whim.
Fails to run from lions, even when they say they want to eat her. That ain’t gonna work twice.
No manners. She told everyone she’d miss the Scarecrow most of all! Rude.
Didn’t even CHECK IN from Oz. We held a funeral for her, jeez.
Killed two grown women who simply wanted her shoes.