we’re not in kansas anymore.

Please read back to “pants on fire.” if you’d like a reference as to whom instigated this conversation….

[I recently dyed some pink streaks into my hair to give it a little flava (yes, I said flava, deal wit’ it). ]

Mr D: What the….???  Miss R, you’ve got pink in your hair??  What are you, some kind of witch??

Me: A witch??  Huh?  No!  Well, I guess if I am going to be a witch, I’d at least like to be Glinda the good witch, from Wizard of Oz.

Mr. RL: (jumping into the conversation) Naaaah, nah, now I don’t really understand how your hair makes you a witch, but I DO know that you ain’t no good witch — a crazy witch maybe….in fact Mr. D, I think you are right, Miss R, you are a witch.  [Mr. ML walks into the room]  Hey, did you hear Miss R is a witch??

Mr. ML: Oh yeah, I know — she a crazzzay white witch!


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