They covered their ears and kept their eyes closed.
Under the billowing clouds, the wind whistled and rattled everything, and leaves and twigs twirled and rolled.
They huddled and waited.
When the wind died down, they staggered out. The sky was clear, and the gigantic plants vibrant.
“Hey, she’s back!”
They looked where his pudgy finger was pointing. Something purple glistened in the bush off the yellow brick road.
“They aren’t hers. Her slippers are red.”
He stooped his four-foot body and picked up the shoes.
“It says…made in China…”
“Must be the tariff retaliation.”
This silly story was written for Friday Fictioneers – 16 August 2019.
PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields