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Al's jaw dropped, sending his cigar tumbling toward the floor. By mere chance, it stubbed itself out on the toe of his lime-green, faux-alligator shoe before hitting the carpet and rolling under the sofa.
Al's eyes widened at a slightly slower pace, but before long, there was more white than color showing. He forced them up and down the spectacle that had suddenly materialized in his living room: the dark braids, the blue-and-white checkered dress… the ruby slippers.
"I leaped-- on Broadway-- opening night," Sam was stammering. "And when I clicked my heels…"
"There's no place like home!" Al crowed.