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Chapter 1: An Apology, Or Two, Or Three
A.N. For my timeline, I'm going to assume that it takes two weeks for the house to be moved into the factory. And that the dinner at the end of the film takes place about two months after Willy Wonka and Charlie visit Wilbur Wonka.
An Apology, Or Two, Or Three
Set after Willy Wonka and Charlie visit Wilbur Wonka but before the Bucket house is moved into the factory.
Willy Wonka hadn't said a word as they'd left the solitary house of Wilbur Wonka and Charlie was beginning to worry. They were soaring high above the snow covered ground as they approached the town in the Great Glass Elevator.
"Are you alright?" he asked, peering up to see that Willy had a confused expression on his pale face.
"Fine," the chocolatier replied quickly.
"...Where are we going?" Charlie asked.
"Well, I'm going back to the factory...and I guess I should take you home," the man answered. "Unless...maybe you've changed your mind?" he asked, almost hopefully.
"I won't leave my family."
"I did."
"...I couldn't."
"It's easy. Just walk out the door and don't look back," Willy assured him despite the fact that he'd very clearly looked back enough to know just where his father's house was.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wonka," Charlie replied and the chocolatier sighed.
"Doesn't make any sense," he shook his head, muttering to himself, "Still don't get it."
"...I think you do," the boy guessed.
"Don't," Willy retorted, childishly.
"Your dad didn't seem so bad," Charlie said. While it was true that Dr. Wonka was perhaps slightly intimidating, but Charlie had only seen a man that had truly missed his son.
"Yeah," the man scoffed, "Well, we didn't talk about chocolate. He really hates that stuff."
"Didn't you see what was on the wall? It was all about the factory...newspaper articles...about you. I just think he really missed you."
"...Not like he didn't know where I was..."
"But...you knew where he was, too?"
"...Maybe," Willy admitted. "But he moved the whole house, y'know?! Just...ripped it right outta the street and dropped it there on the hill. He said he wasn't gonna be there when I got back and he meant it."
"What'd you mean?" Charlie asked, confused.
"When I left...he was really angry," the man shuddered. "I'd been keeping notes...about candy...and he found 'em. So I told him I wanted to be a chocolatier and he said 'no way'. So I was gonna run away and he said he wouldn't be there when I came back...I was only gone for like a few hours...didn't really get far. When I got back the whole house was gone."
"Really?"
"Uh-huh...it was just...gone," Willy muttered and then, a second later, put on one of his best smiles. "Better off without him anyway," he said. "What's that look for?" the man asked, furrowing his brow when Charlie didn't smile back at him. In fact, he noticed that the boy looked rather sad.
"You missed him, too," Charlie stated.
"Did not," the man retorted, looking out over the town. He could see Charlie's ramshackle little house now and he sighed. "You really sure you won't..."
"I'm sure."
"But I thought you liked the factory."
"I love the factory," Charlie said, "But I love my family too and I could never leave them behind."
"...Okay," Willy sighed heavily, "Okay, then."
After another few minutes of silence, the Great Glass Elevator landed a few metres away from the Bucket house and the doors opened. "Bye," the man muttered as Charlie stepped outside.
"Mr. Wonka?" Charlie began, turning back to face the despondent chocolatier who was leaning heavily on his cane.
"Hmm?" he raised an eyebrow, slightly.
"Will you see your dad again?"
"Don't know...maybe."
"I think you should."
"Y'do?" he asked and Charlie nodded. "...Maybe it wasn't so bad," he mumbled. "Hey..." the man began suddenly with a renewed sense of energy as he stepped forwards, standing just outside of the Great Glass Elevator now. "Would your...would they," he gestured to the house, "Would they ever say you can't be something you wanted to be?"
"No," Charlie answered, honestly.
"Even if you picked something they didn't like?"
"Even then."
"Really?"
"Really," the boy nodded.
"...Wow," Willy frowned. "But my...but he...he said I couldn't be..." he stammered.
"He shouldn't have said that," Charlie said, "If that's what you really wanted to do. But maybe he thought he was doing what best for you," he explained but Willy scoffed loudly at him. "That's usually what parents do," he said.
"Yeah...that did those other kids a lot of good, didn't it?" the man grumbled. "A spoiled little brat, a kid who couldn't stop eating, a know it all and a compulsive winner. Great job, people!"
"So...what am I, then?" Charlie asked, curious.
"You're...weird," the chocolatier stated, blinking behind his google-like sunglasses.
Being told so blatantly by Willy Wonka that you were 'weird' was rather surreal since the man himself was so strange but it only made Charlie smile, which in turn, made Willy smile too. "But that's okay," the man added, "'Cause there's worse things than being weird...like being boring...or being like everyone else," he shuddered.
Just as Charlie was about to speak again, the door to the Bucket house opened to reveal his parents standing there. His mother wearing her apron and holding a mixing bowl in her hands with her husband by her side. It was a picture perfect image of home, despite the ramshackle appearance of poverty, with the light from the fire shining from the corner and the grandparents sitting at the table. It was everything that Willy Wonka had left behind and had recently come to miss, even if his father had never been the warm and cuddly sort like the Buckets seemed to be. Maybe Charlie was right and families weren't so bad after all.
"You really love 'em, don't you?" he asked quietly.
"Of course I do, they're my family," Charlie answered.
"And you'd never leave 'em."
"No."
"Well...what if...you didn't have to, then?"
Willy Wonka stepped out of the Bucket house and onto the cold, snow covered street where the Great Glass Elevator was waiting for him. Another awkward conversation had ensued when Charlie explained his new idea that the boy didn't have to leave his family behind after all while Willy himself sat rather stiffly at the table in silence. When it was finally over, Willy had given them one of his best fake smiles, grabbed his hat and his overcoat and hightailed it out of the house as fast as he could. There was only so much of 'families' he could take in one day. He'd have to acclimatise himself he supposed.
"Mr. Wonka?" Mrs. Bucket and her husband stepped outside of the house after him, closing the door as they did. "We were just about to have dinner...maybe you could stay a while?" she suggested, kindly.
"I...I really should be getting back," Willy shook his head as he stood in front of the Great Glass Elevator, not turning around to face them.
"It'd make Charlie happy," she ventured.
"...Maybe some other time," he said.
"Okay," she nodded. "Another time, then," she smiled.
He pressed the button to open the doors but once they'd opened, he didn't step into the elevator. He remained with his back to the two Buckets behind him as he remarked suddenly, "I really am sorry, y'know."
"For what?" Mrs. Bucket asked.
"For...breaking your roof?" Willy replied, making it sound more like an uncertain question rather than an answer.
"Well, you didn't break it this time," she replied.
"Figured I probably shouldn't. And I got better at driving the Great Glass outside...so..."
"You could just drive a car," Mr. Bucket suggested.
"A car? That's boring," Willy shuddered at the thought and the other man scoffed, "I'll stick with the Great Glass Elevator, thanks," he said, "It took forever to make this thing fly, y'know."
"Why an elevator?" Mrs. Bucket asked, suddenly curious, "Why make it fly in the first place?"
"Why not an elevator?" Willy replied, simply and she smiled as he finally turned around to face them.
"So...just to clarify," she began after a moment, "We're not an 'old dead goose' anymore?" she asked.
"Erm...I'm, erm...sorry 'bout that, too," Willy pursed his lip, childishly.
"Been called worse," she shrugged.
"Yeah...me too," the chocolatier muttered, mostly to himself, but they heard him anyway.
"Were you really serious? About letting us live in the factory? We don't have to," she replied. "Neither does Charlie. I mean, I wouldn't dream of telling him he can't be your...apprentice...god knows he wants to and he deserves it, but..."
"You don't want to?" Willy asked, tilting his head.
"It doesn't matter what we want, it matters what Charlie wants and I know he wants this. He loves the factory...even before he went in, he loved it."
"Yeah?" Willy asked, hopefully, and they nodded.
"We might not have a lot of money, or a...a big house...but it's ours. We're doing better now but we're not some kind of charity case," Mr. Bucket said and his wife put a hand on his shoulder.
"A what?" the man frowned.
"A charity case. If you've only changed your mind because we don't really have much..."
"Oh!" Willy exclaimed in understanding, his eyes widening. "Oh, I get it," he smiled, proud at himself for understanding. But his smile quickly faded when he saw that they weren't smiling too. "I mean...right, yeah, of course, I get it. But erm...if that's what it was...wouldn't I just give you money or something so you could move? It's not like I couldn't give you money if you wanted it. I don't really keep track of that stuff but I'm pretty sure I'm doing okay. Y'know, come to think of it, I don't really remember where I left my cheque book..." he frowned, searching the pockets of his warm, black overcoat and then his frock coat. "But I'm sure I have one somewhere...Doris'd know, she usually does all of the..."
"We don't want money."
"Oh, yeah. Not a 'charity case', right," he stopped his frantic search for the little book that he only vaguely remembered and turned his attention back to the Buckets with a sigh. "Look...it's not that. It's just...maybe you guys aren't so bad after all," he said.
"Thanks, I think," Mrs. Bucket laughed, unsure.
"What if we move into the factory and you change your mind?" Mr. Bucket asked.
"...I won't."
"You might."
"I said I won't."
"But you..."
"I said, I won't, okay?!" Willy exclaimed and stabbed at the snow at his feet with his cane. "Sorry. I'm just not really used to...to..." he swallowed, the word refusing to come out.
"Parents?" Mrs. Bucket said for him.
"Yeah. I just gotta get used to..them...again, I guess."
"Charlie says you went to see your dad today," she said.
"...Yeah," the man muttered, vaguely recalling the conversation between Charlie and his family. In truth he'd really been thinking about a new recipe for the Exploding Candy.
"He said you hadn't seen him in a while. How long's it been since you saw him?"
"Erm...maybe like thirty years...thirty five...not sure, really."
Neither of the two people standing before him could imagine not seeing their parents for even a day let alone three decades. They were a very close family despite their troubles, even perhaps, because of them.
"How'd it go?" Mr. Bucket asked.
"...Okay," Willy replied, in a poor attempt at aloofness.
"That's good," Mrs. Bucket replied, seeing that the man was nervous just thinking about his father.
"...Yeah..."
With nothing more to say, the chocolatier finally stepped into the Great Glass Elevator but frowned when he saw Mrs. Bucket shiver a little. They had been standing outside for a good few minutes and she hadn't put on a coat, so obviously she was cold.
"Y'know...it's warm in the factory," he told them. "Move in today if you want," he said, making a point to stare at the door right behind the couple rather than at their eyes.
"Tomorrow," Mrs. Bucket said, after a glance at her husband who nodded.
"...Okay," Willy nodded. "But, hey, I know just what you need," the chocolatier announced, "I'll send you some Hot Ice Cream...or...I guess I could send you some more...wood?" he asked, unsure suddenly.
"Hot Ice Cream?" the other man asked.
"Well, it's ice cream for cold days. Makes you warm instead of cold. You'll love it."
"Hot Ice Cream sounds good," Mr. Bucket smiled.
"Great!" the other man beamed, happily. "Ten minutes, I'll send a truck," he said before pressing a button. The elevator doors closed and the jet powered engines blew up the snow around them as it took to the air.
"...He doesn't mean a whole truck full of ice cream...does he?" she asked once the elevator was gone. "Oh, surely not," she shook her head, turning back to the house leaving her husband staring after the chocolatier as he flew back to the factory.
Meanwhile, Charlie, watching and listening from his bedroom in the rafters, where his parents had very kindly left an opening so that he could see out at the factory, was certain that Willy Wonka had meant a whole truck full of ice cream.
And ten minutes later, he was proven correct as they were left staring at a ridiculous amount of Hot Ice Cream left with a small note signed with a calligraphic 'W' at the bottom.
'I had to send every flavour since I didn't know which ones you'd want. Don't worry if some of it melts, we can un-melt it. Just make sure to bring it back to the factory with you tomorrow.'
"Un-melt ice cream?" Grandpa George exclaimed once his son had read the note aloud. "The man's mad," he shook his head.
"Well, it's Hot Ice Cream," Grandpa Joe shrugged simply and opened the first small carton of ice cream with an eager smile. "You'd have to be mad to make up something like that in the first place so why can't he un-melt it?" he asked, picking up a spoon.
Chapter 2: A Little Mishap
A Little Mishap
Set about three months after the Bucket house moves into the factory.
It was Friday evening in the Bucket house and Willy Wonka was late for dinner. Grandpa George was staring longingly at the mouthwatering array of food laid out on the table as he drummed his aged fingers next to his plate.
"I say we start," he declared, "We've waited long enough. Any longer and the food'll go cold."
"We'll give him a few more minutes," Mrs. Bucket replied kindly, giving the still hopeful Charlie a smile.
The chocolatier was infrequent in his visits to the house since their move into the factory, but they understood. A person didn't just get over an almost lifelong aversion to families overnight and some days it was more difficult for him than others. One day he could be perfectly amiable and then the next day he could be as distant and aloof as he had been when he'd first crashed through their roof. Those awkward days did seem to be getting less frequent so he was improving and clearly he was trying, so what more could they ask?
"Sorry, I'm late..." Willy Wonka said quickly as he ran through the door, tossing aside his hat and his cane. "We had a little..." he began explaining as he sat down beside Charlie at the table.
"What happened to your hair, dear?" Grandma Josephine asked, surprised. His rather unusual, almost medieval hairstyle was gone, replaced with a much more normal hairstyle, slicked back a little, like Mr. Bucket's.
"What?" Willy Wonka blinked over at her.
"Your hair?"
"Oh, yeah...cut it," the man shrugged.
"Why?"
"Had to, didn't I?"
"...You did?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, I..."
"You're covered in chocolate," Georgina exclaimed happily and pointed at Willy's frock coat.
"Whoops," the man said, brushing his gloved hand over the lapel of his coat where a splotch of chocolate had dried against the fabric. "Thought I'd got it all," he said.
"It's a chocolate factory and that's only one spot," George sighed.
"Well, it wasn't just one 'spot'," Willy replied, "That's just the one I missed."
"So, what happened?" Charlie reiterated.
"Erm..." Willy began, sheepishly, "Well, I was mixing a new recipe for the Exploding Candy and I might've added too much Gelignite 'cos it kinda...y'know...exploded...in my face."
"Isn't that what it's supposed to do?" George asked, rolling his eyes.
"I wasn't eating it," Willy admitted, "It just exploded in the mixing vat! Like...BOOM!" he demonstrated with his gloved hands, making Georgina jump.
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Bucket frowned, "You're alright though, aren't you?"
"I'm fine," the chocolatier waved a dismissive hand. "But even the best Oompa Loompa barber can't get that stuff outta hair, y'know," he lamented, "And believe me, he really tried."
He'd been wearing his hat at the time so a lot of his hair had been protected from the blast and he was thankful that he hadn't had to cut it all off. But he hadn't had hair this short in nearly two decades and he felt a little strange as he ran a hand through his now rather normally cut, short hair.
"Couldn't you just use the Hair Toffee to grow it longer again?" the boy asked, noticing the man's discomfort.
"Still not working properly," Willy sighed, "I just don't know what it is. It's like the blueberry thing with the gum. It's just weird."
"Well, it looks nice, either way," Mrs. Bucket said, kindly as she started to dish out the food.
"It looked stupi..." George began to say, but he stopped when his daughter shot him a disapproving glare.
"I'd, erm, stay outta the Mixing Room for a bit," Willy told Charlie, "Fumes...y'know."
"Sure..."
"Your hair's different!" Georgina announced a minute later, "I like it!"
Chapter 3: Something Stupid Part I
Something Stupid Part I
Set three weeks after the Bucket house moves into the factory.
Charlie's favourite room in the whole factory was, without a doubt, the Chocolate Room and not just because his house was in it. The Buckets' had other rooms in the factory but they spent most of their time in their house, they really only used the other rooms occasionally so that Willy didn't feel that they were being ungrateful.
It was still surreal to the young boy that he would have to leave the factory in the mornings to go to school and then return to almost another world where everything was in technicolor and nothing was impossible.
He was doing his homework on the banks of the chocolate river, smiling to the Oompa Loompas who were working in the room as they came and went.
"What'cha doin'?" Willy Wonka drawled suddenly, standing beside the boy.
"Homework," Charlie answered.
"Chocolate homework?"
"School homework."
"Urgh...boring," the man shuddered. "Y'know, I'd cover for you if you didn't wanna go in. I'm kinda like your other teacher and I'm a grown up, so they'd have to listen to me, right?"
"I like school," Charlie looked up at him and saw a disgusted look on the man's face.
"Ewww," he grumbled, sitting down on the sugar grass beside Charlie. "I hated school," he remarked, unusually soberly after a minute.
"Why?" Charlie asked.
"I just...didn't like it," Willy shrugged.
"Bad teacher?" Charlie guessed.
"...No..."
"Then why didn't..."
"Just didn't. So, if you really, really don't wanna go to school, you can tell me okay, and you won't have to go," Willy said.
"Why would I not want to go to..."
"You don't even have to tell me what it's about. Just say the word and no more school," the chocolatier said.
"I want to go to school," Charlie replied, confused.
"Y'sure?"
"Yes."
"...'Kay," Willy nodded.
The chocolatier had remarked, on more than one occasion, how boring he thought Charlie's homework was, or how boring school was in general, but he'd never so openly said that he hated it. He'd never tried to dissuade Charlie from going to school either.
"What's wrong?" Charlie asked him.
"Nothing," he answered quickly, setting his cane aside and tossing away his top hat, carelessly. "So...what's the boring...I mean...the school homework, about?" he asked.
"Maths," Charlie told him and he made a clearly uninspired face despite his efforts not to.
"...Boring," Willy declared after pondering the subject for a moment and Charlie smirked.
"It's not that bad."
"Fiiiiiiiine," the man dragged out the word, "Ask me. Go on, ask me something."
"Really?"
"Uh huh."
"Okay...how about this one. There's 564 beads in a jar. They need to be divided equally into six small jars. How many beads will be in each jar?"
"Why are there beads in a jar? Why can't they be candies?" Willy asked, indignantly.
"I don't think it really matters," Charlie laughed, "But okay, there's 564 candies and I need to divide them up equally into 6 jars..."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do they need to be split into 6 jars?"
"Erm..."
"This is stupid," Willy declared. "Is your whole school day like this?" he asked.
"There's other lessons."
"Oh, well, good, I guess..." he muttered back, staring over at the pipe that was moving down towards the river. "Hey..my turn...which room's that pipe go to?" he asked.
"What time is it?" Charlie asked.
"4:30," Willy said after glancing at his pocket watch.
"And it's Wednesday...so...the...Naffy Taffy Room?" *1
"Bingo! You're gettin' real good at that...Oh...hey, I got it!" he broke off, excitedly.
"Got what?"
"It's 94."
"What is?"
"The stupid...I mean the homework question about the...the whatever it was...it's 94," the man said, pointing his purple gloved hand at Charlie's homework.
"The beads?"
"Whatever," he shrugged and Charlie scratched at the paper with his pen before smiling.
"You're right," Charlie nodded after a minute.
"Ha!" Willy grinned, "But I still don't get why the candies have to go in separate jars."
"Maybe they're Exploding candies and if there's too many in a jar, it'll explode," the boy smiled.
"Oh, well, that makes sense then. Why didn't you just say so in the first place?"
Charlie did his best not to laugh as he turned his attention back to his homework.
"Hey..." Willy began after a few minutes. "Y'know how kids say stupid things 'cause they're angry or excited or something?" he asked and Charlie nodded. "Well, grown ups do that too," he added.
"I know," the boy said. He'd long since gotten used to the seemingly random changes in conversations when Willy Wonka was talking.
"And I might've said something stupid."
"To who?"
"...To my...my..." Willy sighed, once again, failing to say the word.
"Your dad?" Charlie guessed.
"Yeah."
"What did you say?"
"I said, I'd...I said I'd...I'd have dinner with him...tonight...at his house..."
"That's not stupid."
"It's totally stupid!" the chocolatier turned to Charlie. "It's the stupidest thing I've done since I added shoes to a mixing vat of chocolate!"
"...What?"
"Thought it'd give it a kick," Willy shrugged.
"Did it?"
"Not really. Just made the chocolate taste a bit funny. I think the shoes were probably dirty. Had to throw the whole batch away after."
"Are you going to go, to your dads', I mean?"
"Well, I was gonna go...but now I don't think it's such a good idea."
"Why not?"
"You met him. He's...scary."
"He's still your dad."
"So?"
"What's the worst that could happen?"
"...Another argument. No thanks."
"So, you're not going?"
"...No...maybe...I don't know. Maybe I should just hang out with you guys tonight...I'll say I was busy..."
"What if he asks you again?"
"Erm..." the man furrowed his brow, "I...I don't know...You think I'm just being a scaredy cat?"
"If you don't want to go, you don't have to," Charlie said, "No one can make you."
"I know," Willy muttered, absently plucking a blade of sugared grass and tossing it aside. "This is all your fault, y'know," he stated, turning to Charlie again. "Well, you and your...your...and everyone else," he said, gesturing at the Bucket house, "I was fine before you all came along and started being so...family-like. Then, the next thing you know, I made some really bad candy...which by the way has never happened before...and now I agree to go have dinner with dad. Maybe that therapy session really did mess me up."
"Therapy?"
"Well, I didn't know what was wrong with me. I'd never made bad candy before in my life! I thought I was going nuts! What if I go to my dads' and I start making terrible candy again?"
"You haven't made anything bad recently, right?"
"...Well...no. But what if I do?"
"Then you can blame it on me. Say your apprentice made a mistake," Charlie replied.
"No way! Not happening!" the chocolatier shook his head, "I'll just..I'll say I forgot and I was busy...yeah. It's not like he really wants me to go..."
"Then why would he ask?"
"'Cause he...well, how would I know?" Willy shook his head. "You think I should go, don't you?" he asked after a moment.
"If it doesn't work out, don't go again," the boy suggested.
"It won't work out."
"It might."
"I'm telling you, it won't," Willy declared, confidently.
*1. I have no idea what's in the Naffy Taffy room, it's just one of the buttons listed in the Great Glass Elevator in the film.
A.N. Big thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far!
Chapter 4: Back To Normal
Back To Normal
Set after Willy Wonka and Charlie visit Wilbur Wonka but before the Bucket house is moved into the factory.
Mr. Noah Bucket and his wife Helena had been awake all night after Willy Wonka's unexpected visit. *1 They were still unsure of whether or not they should actually live in the factory that their son and Grandpa Joe seemed to love so much. So, they'd decided to pay the man a visit before their family woke that morning and they walked through the small side gate to the factory, which had opened the second that they approached it, and found themselves staring up at the colossal building that they might end up calling 'home'.
When they reached the main doors one of them opened and they stepped through it, expecting to find someone standing by the door, they found only Willy Wonka lounging on a comfortable looking sofa, wearing an old fashioned dressing gown and slippers, reading a book.
It seemed like an odd place to be reading a book, it was after all, more of a corridor than anything else, but it was also perhaps one of the most 'normal' rooms in the entire factory and several of the Oompa Loompas had decided that it would be best not to try and 'freak' them out as quickly as possible. It had taken them a while to convince the man himself though.
"Mr. Wonka?" Helena spoke as they walked over to him.
"Hey, you're early...are you early?" the man muttered to himself when he started looking for his pocket watch. "Oh, you are early. I was only on chapter five," he remarked as though that fact was very important. "Didn't know when you'd be coming...forgot to ask..." the man shrugged. "So I figured I'd wait up...Hey, did you guys know that in Italy there's over 250 types of pasta?" he remarked and pointed down at the page he was reading. "That's a lot of pasta!"
"Why are you reading about pasta?" Mr. Bucket asked.
"Been thinking about making candy pasta...wouldn't that be neat?" Willy smirked.
"Wouldn't it just melt if you cooked it?" Helena asked.
"...Good point," the chocolatier nodded and then tossed the book over his shoulder before finally looking up at them. "Hey...where's everyone else?" he asked, "There was more of you right...or was that just a dream or something?"
"My mother can't walk this far by herself in the snow," she said.
"Oh, well, y'know, we can use the Great Glass, or a truck...and I do have a car...somewhere, don't use it, but I got one. It's black and it's shiny...least, I think it is."
"And we wanted to talk to you first," the woman added.
"...'Bout what? I probably should tell you, I don't have any cue cards with me."
"Cue cards?" she furrowed her brow, exchanging a confused glance with her husband and then shaking her head. "I wanted to know...we wanted to know...if this place is safe," she said.
"Of course it's safe!" Willy scoffed.
"What about what happened with those other children?" she asked, bravely.
"Don't worry about them, they'll all be fine...eventually," he shrugged back.
"They will?"
"Yeah...well, two of 'em were okay anyway, I mean, one was covered in chocolate and the other one in rotten garbage and that's not permanent."
"And...the other two?" Mr. Bucket asked.
"The blueberry kid'll lose her colour after about a month or so. She might have to dye her hair for a few years though."
"And the boy? Mike Teavee?"
"He'll shrink back down...he should. Maybe give it like two months, maybe three...might always be on the skinny side but it won't be so bad like it is now," the chocolatier snorted.
"Did you tell them that?"
"Course not. Where's the fun in that? Anyway, I did warn them, y'know, I didn't just let them do stupid things. Not my fault they didn't listen."
From what they'd been told by their son, they couldn't deny that those children had indeed been warned and common sense should've been warning enough anyway. But, they were just children and children sometimes did foolish things, does that mean they should be punished just for being children? As parents, the Buckets found Mr. Wonka's methods rather unusual, but clearly so was the man himself. They couldn't work out whether his childishness was an act or whether he was always like that since they'd never met him before. They'd heard nothing but good things from Charlie and Grandpa Joe last night though.
"I told the little girl not to try the gum and I told the little know it all not to press the button but they did anyway," he remarked, a little haughtily.
Perhaps he had shown them the gum as a test, but how else was he supposed to work out which child was the least rotten? He had been pretty proud of the machine that made the gum so it wasn't all meant as a test, but still. It was half excitement and half test.
"Children don't always listen," the woman remarked.
"Why'd you think I told them to bring someone to look after them? That was their job, not mine!"
"They'll really be alright?" Helena asked and he nodded.
"Hopefully they'll act a bit different though...or y'know, or not. Guess we'll find out, won't we?" he answered. "You want me to send the car now?" he asked after a moment.
"What about our house?" Helena asked.
"...What about it?" Willy Wonka frowned. "You won't need a house, this place is huge! There's lots of rooms. I forget how many sometimes, but there's a lot," he explained.
"I know it doesn't look like much...but we're proud of our house and at least if we're still living in it then we're not...taking advantage..."
"I don't get it. What are we talking about? Can you gimme a hint or something?" the man stated after pondering what she'd said. "Or a cue card, maybe?" he added.
Still trying to decide whether the man before her was genuinely as clueless as he claimed, she spoke again. "If we moved here, we'd miss it," she explained.
"Ooooooh," Willy snapped his gloved fingers, effortlessly. "Got'cha," he nodded, "Why?"
"It's home," she said.
"Right...well...we could...move the house then," he suggested as though that was something that people did all the time.
"Move the house," she blinked.
"Yeah, why not? I mean...you are 'moving house'...and if my...if he can do it, then why can't I?" Willy said, not elaborating on who exactly he meant.
"You want to move our entire house?" Me. Bucket clarified.
"Yeah, sure, let's do it!" the other man nodded, eagerly. "It's not like it's a very big house anyway so it can't be that hard, right?" he asked.
"How are we going to move it?"
"Well, piece by piece, I guess," Willy shrugged. "I'd be kinda worried if we moved it all at once 'cause it might collapse," he added. Naturally, he meant no offence but perhaps a little had been taken as Mrs. Bucket crossed her arms and stared at him.
"And just who exactly is going to be taking our house to pieces?" she asked.
"I know just the Oompas for the job!" the chocolatier smiled.
"The Oompa Loompas are going to move it?" Helena furrowed her brow. From what she'd heard, they were very small and she doubted somehow that they'd be able to move a house. Having never met them, she of course, had no idea just what Oompa Loompas were capable of.
"Yeah. They used to have to move their tree houses around in the jungle all the time. They'll manage it easy peasy. But they don't like to be seen outside the factory so it might take a bit longer 'cause they'll only go out at night," he pondered.
"Why don't they like to be seen?"
"Don't know," Willy answered. "I keep telling 'em they can go out if they want. It's not like I'd stop 'em. They tried explaining it to me once but I didn't get it so you'll have to ask 'em."
"You're serious, aren't you?" Helena asked, stunned.
"Oh, I try not to be serious," the chocolatier replied, shaking his head. "Never knowingly be serious," he added, in a perfect imitation of seriousness, "It takes the fun out of everything. But in this case, I really am serious. I'm really saying, we'll move your house. And you'll have to find somewhere in the factory to put it...Hey...how 'bout Dessert Island?!" he exclaimed suddenly.
"Dessert Island?" Noah furrowed his brow.
"Yeah! Come look," Willy nodded. He leapt up from the sofa and practically ran off down the corridor leaving the confused couple with little choice but to follow him.
*1 I don't think we're ever told Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's first names so I just went with the first names of the actors.
A.N I didn't want to give the impression that Mr. and Mrs. Bucket are interrogating Willy Wonka or anything but at the same time, they are parents and moving your whole family to live with an eccentric chocolatier whose inventions can turn kids into blueberries is gonna need some thought.
Chapter 5: Tue Ticket
The Ticket
Set one day before Charlie finds his Golden Ticket
Many years ago, a man named Gus had worked in the chocolate factory along side Joe Bucket and hundreds of others. He'd had daily contact with Willy Wonka himself and he'd been exceptional at his job. He'd been devastated when the factory had closed. Now, Gus ran a newsagents' shop in the town still dominated by the factory's shadow. Once, life for the workers in that factory had been interesting, unpredictable and entertaining and now, Gus' life ran like clockwork. As such, at the same time every night, he closed the shop, but this time something rather different happened that made him almost jump out of his skin. Just as he was walking over to the door to lock it, a distinctive, cheery voice suddenly spoke from somewhere in the dark room.
"Heya, Gus," the voice said and the shopkeeper jumped.
"What the..." the man muttered and flicked on the lights. "Mr. Wonka, sir!" Gus exclaimed and breathed a sigh of relief. No one could ever forget a man like Willy Wonka, especially considering the fact that he dressed so distinctively, never mind his memorable voice.
Willy Wonka was leaning against the wall, a shadow in his long black overcoat and glasses with his cane in his hand and his top hat on his head. "Long time no see," the pale chocolatier said to him.
"Y...yes, sir," Gus nodded, still shocked. "H...now did you...I mean..." he trailed off.
"Door was open," Willy answered calmly, as through this was a regular occurrence. "Don't mind, do you?" he asked.
"Of course not, sir...but...erm...well, did you come in to...buy something or..."
"Nah. Actually, I'm surprised you remembered me."
"You're a difficult man to forget," Gus replied.
"I am?"
"Yes, sir," Gus nodded, still calling the man 'sir' out of old habit.
"Oh, well then," Willy shrugged, "That's good, I guess. Anyway. I didn't come here to buy anything. I came to talk to you."
"To me?"
"There another 'Gus' 'round here?" Willy grinned.
"Not that I know of," the shopkeeper smiled back.
"That's good news."
"...Erm...why'd you come to talk to me, sir?" Gus asked. Not that he resented the man for being there or even for firing him and his colleagues, but he was naturally confused. Eccentric chocolatiers didn't just drop in to his shop on a regular basis for a quick chat, after all. This was the first time he'd seen the man in person for years now and everyone knew that Willy Wonka never left his factory.
"Golden Tickets," Willy sighed and leaned heavily on his cane. "The whole thing's a nightmare, y'know?" he muttered.
"It's erm...it's good for business," Gus replied, not knowing what to say.
"It's not good for me."
"So...it wasn't about the money, then?"
"Course not? Who cares about money? Money's boring!" the billionaire eccentric claimed, rather ironically, Gus thought.
"Lot of people round here'd disagree with that, sir."
"Really?" Willy asked, genuinely.
"Really," Gus nodded, seriously.
"Oh. Well...the money isn't the point."
"Then what is? And why come to see me?"
"Well...its like this, see. I was takin' a nice long walk in the factory by the river and I thought, 'hey, there's only two days left and all the kids who've found the tickets so far are no good so you'd better do something, fast'," Willy said, hardly stopping for breath. "I mean, One of them seems to have a brain at least, but the kid hates chocolate. The other three are spoilt and greedy and just useless. I really don't have any hopes for any of 'em. They're just...they're no good," he sighed.
"No good for...what?"
"And the whole thing's over in two days," the chocolatier lamented, not answering the question.
"Sir...what exactly was the point of this whole Golden Ticket idea?"
"Doesn't matter now, I guess."
"There's still one left."
"I know and I know exactly where it is, too."
"Where?"
"Somewhere here. I sent it here. Figured I'd take a chance on this town," Willy said.
"Here...as in...my shop?" Gus asked, stunned.
"Uh-huh," the man nodded. "Must still be here...thought I'd come and give ya a nudge about it," he said.
"There's...a lot of chocolate bars here."
"I'll find it," Willy shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "And I need you to get it to a kid that's not greedy, or over confident, or spoilt or thinks he's a little know it all. Can ya do that for me, Gus?"
"I erm...don't really know all that many kids, sir," Gus replied, still not sure what the whole thing was about.
"Oh," Willy said, despondently, his head lowering.
"Why do you need to find someone like that?"
"I..." the chocolatier began after taking a deep breath. "It's...it's important," he said, desperately.
"Why, sir?"
"Can't tell you."
"Well...actually, I know a man. Worked with me up at your factory. Joe Bucket. Good man. Nice family. Been down on their luck for years. He's got a grandson and from what I know, he's a good kid."
"How 'down on their luck'?"
"'Bout as bad as it can get. They've got no money. They buy the kid one chocolate bar a year. I offer 'em more...special discount for a pal, y'know. But they won't take it."
"One bar a year?!"
"Yeah. For his birthday. Kid loves it."
"Huh," Willy hummed, quietly, "Well, if he loves candy, that's a start, I guess...and that's one more bar than I used to have, anyway."
"What's that, sir?"
"What? Oh, nothing," the chocolatier shook his head. "This kid can't be worse than the others," he shrugged. "I dunno what I'll do if this doesn't work out, y'know," he said.
"I still don't know what all this is about," Gus said.
"You will," Willy replied, "When its all over."
A.N. I watched some YouTube videos about the whole golden ticket idea being Wonka's way of getting Charlie out of poverty but doing so in a round about way to avoid suspicion. I find that difficult to believe. But I can believe that he spied on the kids that won and then deliberately tempted them with things they loved whilst they were in the factory, like chocolate and chewing gum and tv. I'm going with the idea that he was simply lucky enough to have found a kid who's genuinely nice to be his apprentice but he had a little help along the way. The help in this case, is his friendly neighbourhood newsagent.