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“I came prepared this time,” Oscar teases her, taking a rather ungraceful seat on the ground before starting to open the picnic basket. Inside is the food he had been carrying with him on the fateful day that brought him back to this beautiful land. Good old fashioned American canned goods in Oz, a once in a lifetime opportunity.
His companion is less sure, arranging her skirt around her as she sinks to the ground, careful not to trample any of the flowers in the meadow. “Is this a typical American picnic, then?” comes the puzzled response of Glinda the Good, eyeing the various metal containers. “It seems…fascinating.” She certainly can’t say that every American invention or delicacy Oscar has explained to her sounds like a treat.
“I promise it’s good,” he smiles, opening the can of beans and pouring them onto a plate. Now is the time to impress her and show off the magic he’s learned. Beaming proudly, Oscar lets go of the plate, sighing in relief when it hangs in midair like it’s supposed to. Next is a small fire underneath it to warm the beans, produced by quiet incantation. No tricks, no smoke and mirrors, just magic. The nod of approval Glinda bestows upon him turns his cheeks red, and he doesn’t even stop to think as he grabs the plate, and then promptly drops it, blowing on his hand.
“Here, try these,” Oscar offers, picking up a utensil for himself as he urges her towards the plate. “These are baked beans. They’re sort of sweet, but they have a little kick too.”
Glinda nervously picks up a spoon, noting that the beans look rather like a soup in the liquid they’re floating in. But she barely has it to her lips when Oscar’s actions catch her attention, and suddenly she can no longer focus on the task at hand.
“The book was right!” Glinda exclaims, as if she’s had reason to doubt her Book of Records before. But surely something as strange as this had been something the Book recorded incorrectly! Oscar puts down his knife, just as perplexed by the look of horror on her face. “Right about what?”
“You eat beans with a knife!” she replies, as if out of all her years in the fairyland it’s the most peculiar thing she’s ever seen.
“Have you been spying on me?” Oscar teases lightly, suddenly wondering how much time she’s spent focused on his activities in that book of hers. “Just an old habit from the circus. If I didn’t have any utensils, I could always use my pocketknife.”
His chest sticks out almost boastfully now, the pride of the great and powerful Wizard returning in full force. Glinda has been reading about HIM in his absence. “What else did the Book say? I suppose a man can’t keep the slightest air of mystery around you.”
Now it’s Glinda’s turn to blush, both embarrassed by her outburst and amused at how he takes it in stride. “It paints quite the picture, Mr. Diggs,” she assures him, as the thought of the amusing situation causes an unexpected peal of merry laughter to push forth from her lips. Oscar joins her, and the sounds of their voices carry on the breeze and drift between the flowers.