Why is this lovely bouquet of birthday flowers shivering atop the bookcase?

My sister Daria foolishly agreed to acquire props for her son Tyler Too’s junior high school production of The Wizard of Oz, though I rejoiced at the idea of a shopping list that included Nerf apples and flying monkey wings. She’s been calling me three times a day for the last week because I’m so creative.

Daria: I need one of those oil cans for the Tin Man. The hardware store didn’t have one. Where do I go?
Tata: You live across the highway from a Home Depot. Have you looked there?
Daria: No dice.
Tata: What? Not for nothing, but it’d be a hoot if Dot pulled out two cans of Pam and asked, “Regular or olive oil?”
Daria: Omigod.
Tata: Oz wasn’t supposed to be long ago and far away. It was supposed to be contemporary and recognizable. Point a can of WD40 at your rust bucket and the audience will go crazy.

Later:

Daria: The director said no to the WD40 but the costume committee texted me to pick up 8 masks, one with fur.
Tata: No. Not until the kids turn 18. What’s wrong with those adults?
Daria: For one thing, I’m not on the costume committee. Do they still make those things you stick in oil cans? Where would I get one?
Tata: Sure, any Auto Zone will have that.
Daria: Someone on Facebook suggested I get a big can of Foster’s. I could stick that nozzle in a Foster’s can, right?
Tata: Absolutely. I can’t help you shop, but if you need someone to drink the beer, I’m your girl.

Suddenly, I’ve remembered I’m made of meat and I too am nervous.