Jagermeister in the land of OZ... (a re-imagining)

So this is going to be more of a re imagining of the original. Most will not understand, but will be obligated to at least parallel themselves with the moral of the story in one way or another. While most of the individuals involved will "get it", only one person will truly understand.

*This has been modified to fit your screen, edited for time constraints, and the names have been changed to protect the innocent (or not so innocent).

Jagermeister in the land of Oz

She was Dorothy, and Dorothy wanted to run away. The spinning tornado encompassed her life and complemented her spirit. Broken, trying to put herself back together with shiny jagged red pieces, now glued to her Manolo Blahnik heels. No Toto, which would mean I'm leaving the dog out of this story. But in Esperanto, defining my purpose (way to obscure, might want to google it). I was the tin man, a broken heart instead of the absence of one. Not broken like her, more like rusted. His oil can was a green bottle boasting validity of being a master hunter. Or put simply, Jagermeister. We met up with the lion and the scarecrow along our yellow brick trail of downtown Portland. Only for the fluidity of the story, would I attach these two stigmata's to the actual people involved. Neither a lack of courage or stupidity plagued these two. We partied with the lollipop guild until way past their curfew. Then we trampled the yellow brick road using every path and hitting every bar on our way to Oz. And finally, when we ignored the warnings of “Authorized Personnel Only” to look for flying monkeys from the hotel rooftop, we realized things were getting out of hand. The lion was cut off for “showing” off her “courage” and the scarecrow decided it was time to bale...(had to throw in the cheesy hay joke) So the lion and scarecrow left Oz, and Dorothy and the tin man left their inhibitions. They were not behind the wizard's curtain, but under the covers unleashing their own tornado. I did hear Dorothy click her heels and say "There's no place like home" at least 5 times.

Moral of the story…

Beware of company sponsored Christmas parties, bottles (yes plural) of Jagermeister, and make sure you turn off the TV during your incredibly unbridled, drunken, sexcapades or you will wake up next to a co-worker, with the worst headache you've ever had being serenaded by the real munchkins of the lollipop guild.