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?”
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.
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.