Everybody asks, 'Why do the good die young?' Obviously, it's because of the fact that there are evil or as we call around here 'Wicked' people, such as myself.

I didn't want to turn out to be wicked, but life takes its course. Wicked isn't exactly a terrific title.

You should all know the story about the 'Wonderful Wizrd of Oz'. Yeah, he's so wonderful all right. So is his favorite minion, Dorothy. You know, the wretched brat with the red heels. Those were my mother's by the way.

My mother wasn't the Wicked Witch of the West, she was from the East. And Dorothy crushed her with that dumb farmhouse she called her 'home'. But the house didn't kill her. It broke her left arm, that was all. But the part of the story that you didn't know was that Dorothy came back to destroy my mother, after 'killing' my aunt. Throwing a bucket of water on somebody doesn't kill them. whatever moron came up with that seriously needs to get their brain checked out.

Anyway, Dorothy came back to Oz after another twister and stabbed my mother through the heart. And that was Dorothy's big mistake.


Oz thought my mother was wicked? Wait until they see me. And not one Ozian can bring me down.
-Beverly