"Better think nice -- sugar and spice. Better think nice -- sugar and spice." They looked about them as they chanted. There were flowers and trees everywhere -- and, of all things, a yellow brick road. A sign said: STAY ON THE PATH AND THINK OF GOLDEN YELLOW DAFFODILS. "Well, that sounds like sage advice," said Dorothy as she walked towards the path. To the right of the path were little signs which said things like: SHARING AND CARING ARE WAYS TO BE DARING KINDNESS AND LOVE ARE THINGS FROM ABOVE LOVE IS ETERNAL AND NEVER INFERNAL On the left side of the path were negative signs which read such things as: JOY AND COMPASSION ARE OUT OF FASHION TAKING AND HATING GET A HIGH RATING Circling all around the negative signs on the left were ugly blobs of dirty reds and grays, and dull brownish greens flecked with scarlet. Some of the blobs were dirty brownish yellow with streaks of orange and black. All of the blobs had hooks around them. Some of the larger blobs descended and sat on the edges of the boards. Dorothy could almost see eyes in them glaring at her hatefully. She turned her head quickly to the positive signs on her right. Beautiful little forms were dancing and twinkling around them. The forms were made up of the prettiest, most delicate colors. Dorothy could feel a tremendous radiation of love emanating from them. "Keep your eyes on the right," she told everyone. "And keep your thoughts pure. I have a feeling that these ugly things are just waiting for us to think a bad thought so they can attack us." Someone started to chant again: /"Better think nice /--/ sugar and spice.... Better think nice /--/ sugar and spice...."/ "I hope that awful witch doesn't come here," said Dorothy. "I just hate her." The minute Dorothy had the hateful thought, hundreds of evil blobs flew at her screaming the most terrible piercing scream she had ever heard. Their hooks extended out, trying to grab hold of her and attach themselves to her. Some hooked onto her sweater and to her hair. Dorothy squealed hysterically. Her arms were flying about, trying to get them off of her. "Dorothy! Dorothy!" said the Tin Woodman. "Don't show fear." But it was too late. From the sky came hordes of grayish darts, like fragments from exploding rocks. Everyone raised their arms to try to shield themselves. Following the darts came the dreaded cackles of the Wicked Witch on her broomstick. The sky was filled with her piercing screams of horrible laughter.