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"You, an insurance salesman didn't have insurance" exclaimed the Forest Lady. "How is that possible?" "Well" replied Martin "you know the old story about shoemaker's children having no shoes and the dressmaker's daughter being the most popular girl in town ?"
 
"Well, Forest Lady,ā€ Martin the insurance salesman said with a smile, ā€œif you want even better material for that bestseller, I hear the forest just got a shipment of glow-in-the-dark marshmallows and teleporting raccoons. Shall we go check it out together?"
 
Forest Lady was upset that a group of scary, deprived and hungary trolls had taken her away to another world, a world she did not want to be part of in her life. She retraced her steps and found her way back to the pond and immediately jumped in once more.
 
But as she sat there damply, a dim shadow appeared on the nearby shore which slowly resolved itself into a Victorian era carriage. Painted in large letters on the side were the words "SCHOOL BUS". The vehicle's door opened and a tall spare man with hawk like features stepped down and faced her.

"Good day to you my lady." Said the man. Could you please tell me where I am? A moment ago I was in a peasoup fog in London trying to find my way back to Baker Street. The coachman made a left turn at Albuquerque St. and suddenly I find myself here...wherever here is. Oh by the way, my name is Holmes, Sherlock Holmes."

Forest Lady gasped in surprise. " Mr. Holmes," she said. "I have certainly heard of you, and am delighted to meet you but I simply have to ask. Your conveyance says School Bus on it. What School does it represent?"

"Oh" replied Holmes, "Elementary my dear Lady".
 
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"He wasn't a Martian after all," she sighed, "He was just a tin man, a reincarnated aluminum siding salesman that had crafted his car to look like a spaceship, fashioned from aluminum from a salvage yard in Roswell, New Mexico and pieces he had smuggled out from Area 51 in his lunch box. She began singing, "One piece at a time and it didn't cost him a dime ...."
 
Her singing angered the tin man and her previous comments about his height or lack thereof, triggered his uncontrollable rage. He ran after her like a wild beast. She whistled and the forest dogs, half Dire Wolf and half dachshund, charged the tin man, leaping for his crotch. He screamed and cursed, vowing revenge on Lady Forest and her pack of wild prehistoric wiener dogs.

Lady Forest ran and ran and kept running for days just like her Grandpa Gump.
 
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I will get you for this, swore Fang the half-direwolf and half-dachshund. His slavering, fang-crowded muzzle skimmed the forest floor at a minuscule distance due to his disproportionately short legs which robbed him of the ancestral joy in leaping. But when he saw his fellows' muzzles clang one by one into the Tin Man's shiny metal groin - and his own nose able only to dodge the thrashing and flailing ankles - he, for a moment, was thankful for the genetic roll of the dice that had made him a low-flyer. Those collisions looked painful.
 
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