Drucilla B. Queen sits on her throne with the empty seat facing her. Her guest is late. Dalton is growing more nervous with each minute that passes. The witch has been known to have trouble with her broomstick before, sometimes landing her far beyond her destination. The ladies of court buzz quietly among themselves.
A guard finally appears in the doorway to the royal living quarters to announce the witch’s arrival. Looking relieved, Dalton makes his way to the main entrance to the beehive to escort their guest in.
Drucilla and the ladies of court keep their eyes glued to the doorway in anticipation of the witch’s arrival. At last, Dalton’s deep bass voice fills the royal living quarters.
Dalton: The Witch of the West, your Majesty!
Drucilla: Please bring her forward.
In the silence which pervades the royal living quarters, the heartbeats of all the bees join into one deafening chorus. The witch hesitates at the entrance to the chamber. For a moment, Dalton think she might change her mind about the interview and leave.
Drucilla: Welcome in my beehive, Witch of the West. We are very excited to have you as our special guest.
The witch enters the chamber, holding her broom as if ready to defend herself with it. The ladies of court hold their breath as she comes closer. Yet after the initial shock, her ugliness reflects a rare kind of beauty. The bees stare at her in fascination. The witch stares back with a look of terror in her eyes. Dalton wants to walk beside her, but she insists that he go first. Not wishing to frighten the poor witch, Dalton takes his place at the right hand of the queen.
“Take care! Or a house might fall on you as well.”
Glinda, the Witch of the North
Drucilla: Please come and have a seat. No one will hurt you.
The witch skitters the rest of the way to the empty chair waiting for her, pulling it back a short way from Drucilla before sitting down.
Witch: What makes you think I’m afraid?
Drucilla (exchanging glances with Dalton): Um … nothing. But in case you were afraid, I only wanted to reassure you.
Dalton: Please remove your hat before the queen.
Witch: Why?
Dalton: It is the custom.
The witch hesitates as if trying to decide something. Then shrugging her shoulders, she removes her hat. A waterfall of rich, black hair falls to her waist in glistening waves. Drucilla gives a start. She is not prepared for the face beneath that luxurious mane. No wrinkles disturb the smooth, delicate, green skin. Her deep brown eyes are set off by perfectly arched eyebrows. Her long green nose and chin are free of warts. Now the witch smiles, revealing deep dimples on either side of her mouth.
Drucilla: Why, you’re not an ugly, old witch at all!
Witch: (giggles): Neither are you!
Drucilla: You’re green.
Witch: And you’re a bee.
Dalton: Well, I’m glad we got that straightened out.
Both ladies glare at Dalton and he makes no further comment.
Drucilla: Do you have a name? I can’t very call you the Wicked Witch of the West.
Witch (looking rather insulted): No, you certainly cannot! What makes you think I’m wicked?
Drucilla: I don’t. But what shall I call you?
Witch (rubbing her long, green chin): My creator never really gave me a name, so I have collected a few of them over the years. The best one is Theodora.
Drucilla: Then Theodora, it is.
Witch: Except … uh … would you mind doing me a favor?
Drucilla: What is it?
Witch: Could you call me Helen for this interview?
Drucilla: Helen?
Witch: Yes, I have always wanted to be called Helen, like Helen of Troy. You know, the one with the face that launched a thousand ships?
Drucilla: (shrugging her shoulders): Never heard of her. But I’m happy to call you Helen.
Having negotiated her wish, Helen looks as if she wanted to pick up her broom and go home again.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”
Dorothy from Kansas
Drucilla: Did you have a pleasant journey to my beehive?
Helen: Once I got out of Oz, it was uneventful, which is a good thing.
Drucilla: Was it eventful in Oz?
Helen (tears filled her eyes): You have no idea. It is horrible there.
Drucilla: Tell me about it.
Helen: Well, I don’t know if this is the place to … (a burst of anger swept over her face) Yes, maybe it is. I want the truth to come out. That’s why I agreed to this interview. You see, I am the victim of a horrible mobbing campaign.
Drucilla: Oh, my!
Helen: It’s all because of that glittery piece of trash, Glinda.
Drucilla: The Good Witch of the North?
Helen: What’s so good about her?
Drucilla: Well, I just …
Helen: That is one sneaky, little vixen! She’ll say anything to get more power. That is her only objective.
Drucilla: I thought she wanted to give Dorothy those ruby slippers. So she could get home, or something like that.
Helen: Ha! Glinda’s wearing ’em now! Took them right off of little Dorothy’s feet on her way back to Kansas. No one ever mentions that Dorothy returned from Oz barefoot. And I’m supposed to be the wicked one. She tells everybody I tried to steal those ruby slippers, and that’s the reason why that little girl kiled.
Drucilla: That’s not true?
Helen: Do I look dead to you?
Drucilla: Not exactly. If Glinda is so rotten, why do the Munchkins like her so much?
Helen: Those simple-minded creatures! They’ll believe anything you tell them if you pack it in sugar. Glinda packs her entire self in sugar, with that fluffy white gown and those honey curls. No offence, Drucilla.
Drucilla: None taken.
Helen: She looks like a marshmallow that has been dipped in caramel. Everyone in Oz believes whatever looks sweet, is sweet. That is a bunch of horse hockey! The one has nothing to do with the other. Look at my black hair! Don’t you think my hair is just as beautiful as the sickening blond curls on Glina’s head?
Drucilla (hesitating): Yes, well, maybe.
Helen: And my green skin’s just as smooth and glowing as Glina’s, don’t you think?
Drucilla was even less sure about that.
Helen: Well, at least my boyfriend thinks so. He say that …
Drucilla (waving her feelers): You have a boyfriend?
Helen: Why shouldn’t I have a boyfriend?
Drucilla: I … I guess you should. It’s just that there was no mention of a boyfriend in this book.
Helen (leaning forward): Drucilla, that book is fiction. I’m telling you the facts.
Drucilla: Yes, well …
Helen: Isn’t that why you wanted to interview me in the first place? To get at the truth?
Drucilla: Ah …
“WOOF!”
Toto
Helen: I am awfully glad you did. You have no idea how relieved I am that people will what the situation is in Oz. They might get to know the real Helen a little bit.
Drucilla (smiles): Yes, I’m glad too. May I make a suggestion?
Helen: What is it?
Drucilla: Keep the name Helen and get rid of the hat.
Helen: You don’t like my hat?
Drucilla: It’s lovely, dear, but it hides your hair.
Helen: I see. It also hides my face.
Drucilla: Well, it’s your face, Helen. No need to be ashamed of it!
Helen gazes at Drucilla for a long time before reaching out to take her forefoot in her green hand.
Helen: Thank you for everything. For inviting me here and for listening.
Drucilla: I’m happy we’ve had this nice, little chat. Have a good journey home!
Helen: I will. Maybe next time, you could come to my castle in Oz.
Drucilla: That would be lovely.
Drucilla and Dalton escort Helen to the main entrance of the beehive. They wave as Helen flies off on her broomstick, her hair whipping in the wind.
End of Interview
