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Is It Scary	By : Idolhands Category: A through F > Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Views: 18216 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 20
- 21
- 22
Please be aware that the volumes/chapters of this tale are out of order. Be sure to pick the NUMBER of the Volume, not the number assigned by Adultfanfiction.net. I cannot control this problem, sorry and thank you for reading.
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Title: Is It Scary, volume XIV - It is HATE, not LOVE, Which is Truly Obscene
By: IDOL HANDS
Rating: R
Warnings: Dark & mature themes, violence, angst, alternate Paganism, original candy, cannon from both movies & book, cursing, plus an under-aged/adult slash (“shota” or “chan”) relationship with a cherry-red Incredible Gobstopper on top. Bon appetite!
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of Roald Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore, Deep Roy, and Johnny Depp. And although I have not made one dime from doing it, I have made many wonderful new acquaintances.
Summary: SCHOOL DAY! Charlie has as many lessons to learn as he does to teach. How will the students react to the golden ticket winner’s return? Willy Wonka has tried to find ways to sweeten the deal but people can find ways to sour anything. Even if the grand creator isn’t by the boy’s side, he is always on his mind. Important memories reveal insight into the many forces swirling around in the world – ones that Charlie has already begun to impact, on an unassuming playground, in an unassuming town, as he has become anything but. Playing tricky games and rhyming isn't only for Oompa-loompas...

"Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down"

A man with badly cut greasy hair and prominent buckteeth wearing a truly ugly tweed suit, stood behind the studious pupil and stared down at him with annoyance. There was nobody else inside the run down classroom. He stated clearly, “Charlie.”
The pencil continued to eagerly scribble away as it had done all morning, coltish legs adorned in long striped socks and chunky loafers bouncing from enthusiasm. All of the empty school desks faced the fading chalkboard except this one; isolated and turned toward the blind-covered windows. Today’s lessons did not concern him and Willy Wonka had been precise, if not gracious, that he did not wish his charge to absorb any information that wasn’t personally taught by himself.
The child’s continued lack of response prompted the teacher to bark, “Charlie Bucket! Have you gone deaf? That was the lunch bell! Stop writing already!!”
“Huh? Oh sorry, Mr. Turkentine! I got too wrapped up in that last question asking us to write an essay about a famous figure in history.” The chastisement caused the boy to immediately put down his pencil and present the pile of papers to his old teacher. Everything felt so strange and so familiar at the same time, as if his former life had only been a dream. Reality had become an illusion and illusion was his new reality.
“It said essay, NOT novel. This’ll take me FOREVER to read!” Said the lax teacher in a lower-class British accent, while waggled the chunk of loose leaf in the boy’s face.
“Who did you choose, anyway?” He jerked the pile back in order to examine the last sheets, skimming over the extraordinarily improved cursive, nodding as he read, “Alexander the Great. Oh, thas’ a nice choice, yes, brave fellow who…conquered much of the known world and…had an army composed entirely of homosexual lovers?! Charlie, you can’t write things like this!!”
“Why? It’s true. That’s one of the reason’s the army was so successful - no women to fight over or to temp the soldiers doing battles in foreign lands.” The child politely stated as if he were discussing a cake recipe. His stunned instructor’s color had begun to resemble paste as he went on, “I even included the story about the fifteen year old Persian boy, Bagoas, that was given to him as a gift. General Hephaistion, Alexander’s lifelong friend was his true love, but they had an close relationship too.”
“That manly fighter had TWO male lo-lo- and one of them was fifteen?! Thas’ molestation that is!” Mr. Turkentine had walked back to the front of the room, collapsing into his desk chair with the pinches of stuffing sticking out of it.
“Actually, the verb tense ‘molest’ means to force unwanted attentions on somebody younger or weaker; to bother, disturb, or pester them.” Charlie had put his coat, beret, and sling bag back on as he continued to respectfully lecture his old teacher. He approached the man’s desk and added softly, “Bagoas fell in love with Alexander, their relationship was mutual; no one was forced; and you know sir, not too long ago, such relationships weren’t even uncommon. Here…have a Wonka bar!”
Although the teacher’s own reality was being shifted beneath his feet, he reached out, took and readily began to consume the offered chocolate bar like a zombie. Free was free and he was known for being phenomenally cheap. The teacher looked Charlie up and down. This boy was dramatically different than the shy, withdrawn and dull-colored pupil that he was accustomed to seeing in class. There was a rosy glow in his cheeks, he made eye contact, he looked sparkling clean and he seemed perhaps a tad too knowledgeable for a lad of his age.
A few bites of the treat and Mr. Turkentine’s spirit returned, “Th-thas’ all remarkably interesting, albeit slightly disturbing, but do me a favor and don’t tell it to any of the other children. After all, I’M the TEACHER and YOU’RE the STUDENT and for a student to teach his teacher is both presumptuous and rude. Am I making myself clear?”
The boy repressed his grin as the frequently scatter-brained instructor continued to chomp away at the long, thin bar of candy. It was difficult to think of him as an authority figure with those brown smudges on his chin.
With a look that only flustered the man further, he answered, “It’ll be our secret.”
Before Charlie left the room, Mr. Turkentine called out, “Ere…wot sort of chocolate bar is this? I’ve not had it before but it’s rather good.”
“A Scrumdiddlyumtious Bar. They’re new! Mr. Wonka has been very inspired lately!” He answered with vigor before dashing away to the lunchroom, thus leaving his teacher to grade the test papers and mutter to himself about Willy Wonka’s overly thorough teaching methods.

This was a big day for the youngest Bucket in more ways than one! For today, he had money to pay for a REAL lunch instead of accepting the free one that used to be reluctantly provided to him. So, rather than a small baked potato, a stale piece of bread, and a large glass of milk (all of which he had still been extremely grateful for) - Today he’d receive a large meatball sandwich with gooey Swiss cheese and zesty tomato sauce, a crisp salad, zucchini medley, and even dessert! He’d always wondered what those warm sub sandwiches would taste like. No matter how much you inhale the air, a living thing can never be completely satisfied by fumes. Oh, how he'd tried outside the chocolate factory though, EVERY day on his way to and from school.
Reaching into his breast coat pocket for the money that his benefactor had given him, he discovered that a note was enclosed in the envelope as well. The ink that permeated through the parchment was plum-colored and smelled amazingly like grape jelly while the tan wax seal added the aroma of freshly roasted peanut butter. As strict and demanding as the chocolatier could be, he always made time for the absurd. Charlie sniffed it and thought, “Only Mr. Wonka would do something so funny to something so elegant.”
And then, it suddenly felt like his mentor was standing right next to him again, sliding that paper into his coat at the same time that he stole a risqué good-bye kiss with Grandpa Joe’s back turned. He’d caught the boy off guard before any panic or protest could be made. The action had felt all the more intense for the lingering fears that were still in his psyche from the erotic dream he'd had and yet he couldn’t resist, couldn’t pull away. Their differently sized tongues had touched only briefly, but long enough for Charlie to taste that wonderful syrup of the man’s mouth, melting his worries into longing.
The voice whispered his identical thought, “You’re my new favorite candy.”
“Kid? Do you have money or not?” An unforgiving, tired face stared at the entranced boy. It was quite different from the attractive one he’d been envisioning…especially the large, hairy warts. The note was pushed back into his pocket while he shoved the money into the cashier’s hands, which were coincidently also gloved, but in something resembling a clear plastic bag instead of the snug, stylish variety worn around the factory. “Oh uh, yes, exact change and everything. Here. Thank you. Thank you very much!”
He happily bounced away, leaving the baffled woman behind. Why anyone would be so excited to receive this slop was beyond her.
“Next!” Was shouted, as the boy surveyed the common tables holding his lunch tray. His usual spot was always the furthest back corner where he could avoid any judgmental stares or rude comments. It wasn’t easy being the only child in school who never had money for lunch and who wore the very same ill-fitting clothes and shoes for years. The memory of it caused his head to droop, perhaps he’d still sit in the corner...
“Hey, you weren’t a new kid! You’re THE Charlie Bucket!!” A voice was heard to shout out. It was one of the girls who’d spotted he and Grandpa Joe earlier. She was wearing an extremely pretty outfit that reminded the ticket winner of Alice from Wonderland. The girl waved at him, “Come and join us!”
Charlie shyly walked over to the table of previously chatting students. Everyone had ceased talking and began greeting him with great eagerness:
“Welcome back!”
“Nice to see you, Charlie!”
“How’s it going?”
“We missed you!”
They’d never done that before. It was nice but…unsettling. He wasn’t unaccustomed to being the center of attention just normally in a different way. Before they’d parted that morning, Mr. Wonka had stated, “Yer gonna learn more lessons today kid, ones that if I had my druthers, I woulda spared ya from. Remember not to trust a single one of them.”
It made the boy sad that the chocolatier’s view on life was so negative and paranoid. Things were already going better than that! Actually, he always did want a chance to get to know his peers, but since he was usually ignored, he’d busy himself with his thoughts and dreams instead. Recess wasn't a better time to socialize because Charlie could never afford to use up any energy playing. Instead, he was forced to sit and only watch. Otherwise he’d never make it through the rest of class, plus the cold walk back home where nothing more than cabbage broth was waiting.
The girl in the fancy dress was positively beaming at him, “I barely recognized you in those brand new clothes of yours! I'm almost jealous!”
Her tall blonde friend added, “That is, we thought it might be you, but…you looked so different! And no one’s had a chance to talk to you in class since you were all the way in that corner. We’ve been passing notes like mad. You’re all the gossip today!”
This came as a big surprise to the Bucket child. He’d been too absorbed in the tests to notice. However, his sensitive hearing detected far less flattering comments as he sat down.
“Amazing wot a bath can do, maybe he’ll finally stop stinking of cabbage now. Pee-yuu!”
“Those clothes are TOO nice for the likes of him.”
“Who does he think he is now? He looks like some sort of Nancy boy.”
“Aw, I think he looks cute, although…what’s with the gloves?”
Charlie decided to ignore their rudeness, responding only politely to the snide question, “Mr. Wonka wears gloves, so he’s given me some as well. He started wearing them to keep everything sanitary, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t be fun or attractive, so he makes them very nice and in lots of colors too. Everything in the factory is like that as a matter of fact.”
The table grew quiet from embarrassment for they hadn’t realized he could hear them, nor had they realized how well spoken the boy could be when he had a deep feeling about something. Charlie looked around and said forgivingly, “It’s alright, I guess I’d be curious too if I were you. Mr. Wonka does do a lot of things differently from most people but…different doesn’t have to be bad.”
It was then that Charlie noticed the child next to him had a small baked potato, a glass of milk, and was nibbling on a crust of bread. A gentle curiosity in his blue-green eyes met the scenario, to which the small child meekly explained, “A bully stole my lunch money.”
The other students began giggling and teasing the child for that confession, but Charlie immediately cut his meatball hoagie and placed half onto the other boy’s plate. “Here. You can have my dessert too if you’d like.”
Everyone ceased laughing as they watched their old classmate perform this act of rare charity in a preoccupied world. It was more than anyone had ever done for him; no one had ever done such a thing for Charlie Bucket in all the days that he'd gone without proper nutrition. It was all right though; the pure-hearted youth never expected anyone to solve his problems for him even though he enjoyed solving other's.
One child blurted out in disbelief, “You’re giving away your dessert?! Are you crazy?”
The golden ticket winner looked at his glossy green jell-o with a slightly shriveled red cherry on top. It’s wobbly texture and colors far too similar to that looming, horrific image of the Vermicious K’nid that he’d seen in his mentor’s giant scrying mirror. He tensed up, but snapped out of it by plunking down the silver bucket he’d been carrying around onto the table; yet another gift that was contained within the stack of presents that had been left yesterday. He proudly stated, “Why not? After all, I’ve got plenty of desserts!"
Eyes all down the table widened as they read the colorful label which cheerfully announced:
Bucket of Surprises!

*****The latest & greatest creations of Willy Wonka and his new Boy Wonder!*****
Said 'Boy Wonder' began joyfully passing out the treats, then pulled out a cardboard shelf to pass out a new assortment on a second, followed by a third level. It revealed that the entire object was a cleverly designed candy box only painted silver, not an actual bucket made of real metal.
“Hey, give that back! It was mine!”
“You already got two!”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Liar!”
“I want one! I didn’t get any!”
Charlie was startled to see one girl pull another’s hair, one boy holding a candy far above a shorter person’s head and yet another child starting to cry in a tantrum. One tomboy was certain to have a black eye tomorrow as she sat rubbing it on the floor. The entire scene was quickly getting out of control, turning an act of generosity into one of mayhem!
“SILENCE!!!” Cried out a booming adult female voice. She’d dashed into the modest cafeteria from across the hall, “Wot the Devil is all this commotion about?!”
“Charlie Bucket is giving out free Wonka Candy!”
“NEW Wonka Candies!!”
“And I didn’t get none!”
“Liar!”
“You’re the liar!”
“EVERYONE SHUT THEIR CAKE HOLES RIGHT NOOOOW!!” The woman hollered loud enough to frighten all the students into stunned submission. After which she patted her extremely well sprayed hair in a failing attempt to maintain her ladylike station.
This was a teacher from another class and very much like her name, Mrs. Applebottom had an unusually wide bottom in comparison to her top, but it went along with her large legs that tapered into small, pointed feet. The woman immediately dashed over to Charlie with such an intense expression on her face that it startled the boy; small lips tightly pursed and closely set eyes peered out of horned rim glasses, “Wot do you mean coming back here after such a long absence and upsetting the children with…with these divine temptations?! Have you turned into as much of a trouble-maker as that candymaker of yours?! I should confiscate this- this uh, bucket IMMEDIATELY! Maybe you’re not used to having things Charlie, but a standard rule of thumb is - if you can’t bring enough for everyone then don’t bring any at all!”
Like a lost puppy, the child put his arms around the fancifully shaped chocolate box. He pleaded, “But I do, I DO have enough for everybody if they share properly. I even have some for the adults. Mr. Wonka would love everyone’s opinions. Won’t you please try one, Mrs. Applebottom?”
There was such a sweet charm to the child’s voice and such a kindness to his smile. He also looked like a doll in the swirled rainbow sweater, short tailored coat, and beret with tassel. The perfection of it all set off by crowded teeth, knobby knees, and slightly oversized ears. It immediately melted her heart like chocolate melts in one’s hands. She took let out a breath, recomposing herself, “Willy Wonka is very lucky that he has such a cute little partner…especially considering his recent exposure on the news. I must say, what a peculiar acting and strange looking chap he is! Not at all what I imagined him to be when I was a child.”
Charlie let out a weak chuckle in response to that, keeping the dimpled grin on his face.
Examining the flashy new packages that lay inside, she acquiesced further, “I’m supposed to be on a diet, but I suppose I could try just one piece, what’ve you got?”
Slightly to his embarrassment, Charlie pulled out a little pile of flashcards that his mentor had included with the candy box. Public speaking was a very new thing to the youngest Bucket. With a sea of eager faces staring at him and causing butterflies in his stomach, the cards no longer seemed as out of place as they had during that world famous tour; each clearly explained the new treats and each was stylishly emblazoned with a new logo that incorporated the initials of both of their names along with a small heart. Brazen, as it was secretive, the logo was visible to all as he began to speak:
Top Hats: Extra large marshmallows on top of a thick graham cookie triple-dipped in the darkest chocolate from heirloom cocoa beans. Filled and decorated with tangy olallieberry sauce; a decadent treat that is also high in healthy antioxidants!
Encouraging murmurs and smiles, prompted him to continue. A blush filled his cheeks as he read the second cue card.
Charlie Bars: Compact candy bars with random stripes of white, milk, and dark chocolate. The filling is a special fluffy nougat with a hint of exotic Asian pear flavor.
The boy modestly left off the part of the cue card which stated: Although it can’t possibly compare to the perfect, subtle sweetnesses of the real thing.
Golden Hearts: Solid, highest quality Wonka chocolate sprayed with a metallic sheen of edible gold and engraved with our initials to ensure that tender loving care went into the work because TLC, is the real “secret ingredient” to Wonka creations.
There were more murmurs to indicate how touched they were by the candymaker’s words. He could be quite good with them even when he wasn’t as good about delivering them in person. It made the boy all the more curious about what the note in his coat pocket said as he continued:
Mrs. Bucket’s Tarty Tarts: Individual flakey pastries filled with homemade lemon plum curd created from Mr. Wonka’s very own Lollypop trees and drizzled with icing made from purest cane sugar to offset the tartness.
Square Candies that Look Round: It may sound impossible but it isn’t! The most clever and creamy caramel toffee in the whole wide world!
The teacher held out her hand, “I’ll take that one. THAT I have to see!”
Knowing the trick, Charlie handed her one responding, “You’re exactly right.”
She gave him a puzzled look that made the boy proud, he’d done a pun in a method very similar to his idol.
All the children watched as she opened the package and removed what was most clearly a SQUARE-shaped object. “This don’t look round.”
Mrs. Applebottom’s eyes had gotten very wide as she stared at what was in the palm of her hand. “And i-i-it seems to be looking at me.”
“Put them all on the table.” Instructed Charlie, “Then walk over to the other end of the room.”
She did what he said and everyone marveled at how the square candies googly sets of eyes rolled until they found her standing at the other side of the room.
“Now walk back.” The boy said.
She did so and the candies once again inexplicability rolled their wide eyes to the opposite side of the room. Even more disturbingly, they had round-cheeked smiles pressed into their false miniature faces.
“There you go -- square candies that LOOK ‘round!” He proudly announced, while duplicating the effect with his own eyes and making circular motions with his forefinger, exactly as the chocolatier had done toward his own family when it was explained. The name was a play on words referring to ‘around’ rather than a geometric shape. One got accustomed to such semantics around Willy Wonka.
Many children started to laugh at the weirdness of the joke. Naturally, children understood the wacky side of the candymaker’s sense of humor.
“…so they do.” Stated the teacher dumbfounded. She scooped them back up, “They’re…almost too clever to eat. I-I guess I’ll be sticking to my diet after all.”
“Don’t worry, they aren’t alive. It’s only a trick, you really can eat them.” Charlie assured the uncertain looking woman.
Mrs. Applebottom put one very carefully into her mouth, staring at the candy that stared right back, smiling even as it was consumed. A second later she marveled at the smooth buttery flavor, rolling her own orbs in ecstasy, “Mmmm. Divine. However does he do it?”
“Magick of course.” Answered the boy before continuing.
Rainbow Drops: Suck on these color-changing candies and you'll be able to spit in every color of the Rainbow.
“Spitting is a DISGUSTING habit!” announced one of the girls while picking her nose.
“I can think of a worse one.” Said a boy who happily possessed one of the multicolored, spiked suckers.
“Silence!” announced Mrs. Applebottom then kindly said, “Please continue, Charlie.”
The boy cleared his throat and explained the last new invention that was ready for market:
Raspberry Kites: The most-est, special-est, newest treat from the collection because it was our FIRST creation together! The pliable, flavored taffy will expand into small kites with liquorice strings that you can tie to your fingers and fly before gobbling them up! And due to their delicate construction, your breath is enough to make them work.
Again there was the bubbling of a commotion as the children began to get excited about trying their new candies. Tiny deep pink kites circling feet above the kids and others running in circles to outsmart the Square Candies. The idea of so many youngsters trapped inside the confined space with raging sugar highs prompted Mrs. Applebottom to insist that all confections be consumed OUTSIDE and permitted an early recess. She arched her head down the hall chiding, “Mr. Turkentine, would you like to come out here and give me a hand with all these roaming children?”
Then muttered under her breath, “You lazy old drunken mule.”
It was shocking what enhanced senses could reveal! The boy wasn’t sure he liked having privilege to these new sorts of knowledge. He’d always assumed the best about people. Of course drinking might help to explain quite a bit about Mr. Turkentine’s half-hazard demeanor, but it didn’t have to make him a bad person just perhaps an…'inadequate' teacher.
A rather abrupt voice hollered back at her, “Well, I’m grading all of Charlie Bucket’s bleedin’ test papers then, aren’t I?!”
The woman crossed her arms and said in a loud singsong voice, “Theeere’s free caaandy!”
Within three seconds flat, the poorly dressed teacher had scooted into the cafeteria, sliding against the polished floor in his excitement. He looked down at Charlie then blurted out, “You got all A’s! A pluses even! Where’s the candy?!”
The boy handed him a tart, not bothering to mention that he’d already gotten a free Scrumdiddlyumtious Bar. His teacher happily sat down and began eating it along with the few kids who were bothering to finish their lunches before running outside. The youngest Bucket child was very content to eat actual food in relative peace. Those commotions had really upset him, leaving him with a slight headache. After ingesting some satisfying bites of warm food, he noticed that the distracting crinkling in his left ear hadn’t ceased. It was Mr. Turkentine; he couldn’t get the package open. Resisting the urge to laugh, Charlie went over and opened it for the grateful, anxious man. Apparently Mr. Wonka would need to make the wrappings easier to split for less dexterous fingers.
“Caw, you must be grateful to out of that stuffy old factory, eh? Must be almost unbearable for a little kid to be stuck up in there for nearly a month with no one to play with except that workaholic shut-in.” Said the teacher, attempting to make small talk with his mouth full.
Putting aside the assumed insult toward his beloved mentor, the child answered mildly, “Actually, I miss it already. It’s more like a never-ending amusement park ride then a workplace.”
“Blimey, this is GOOD! Wot’s in here?” Deaf to Charlie’s conflicting response, the man read the wrapper that had thwarted him and got that comically aggravated look on his face again, “Lollipop trees? That’s absurd! There is no such thing as Lollipop trees!”
“Oh, but there are, I swear it, right inside of The Chocolate Room where my whole family’s house was moved…” His voice tapered off as Mr. Turkentine got that look on his face again, “I’m sorry sir, a pupil teaching his teacher is both presumptuous and rude.”
“Quite right.” The man had crossed his legs and stuck up his chin. Then he snaked up his arm and took another quick bite of pastry.
“I-I’ll just be outside then…never had the strength for recess before. Excuse me.” He picked up his bag. Then glanced at his former teacher who was still struggling to hold on to his dignity, “Um, would you like to keep this bucket box as a souvenir, sir? It’s the very first one ever made, bound to be valuable.”
It only took a second for the man to scoop it up and cradle it like a precious bundle of new life. “Thas’ rather sporting of you lad. No wonder Wonka was so keen on you. Such a sarcastic, pompous, old puss on telly though, terrible example to children! I don’t suppose you ever manage to teach him anything do ya then?”
A speckle of a glimmer, one that would have made his mentor proud, appeared in the child’s eyes as he replied, “Oh, you’d be surprised.”
“Mm, Well you’re a perfect match then aren’t you?” He said with a whimsical smile. “Alright, off with you then.”
After the boy left, Mr. Turkentine gave a few suspicious glances around to make sure no one was looking right at him. Then he promptly stuck his face into the empty cardboard bucket, taking a long indulgent sniff of every aroma mixing together in a symphony of fragrances. For a split second he pondered that “perfect match” comment that he’d just made and thought about the boy’s extensive knowledge on certain deviant relationships, but then dismissed it as too ludicrous. Surely the man was simply as detailed about his lessons as he was about making confections and who could argue with those methods? Besides, Willy Wonka was no Alexander the Great, he thought, a person couldn’t possibly conquer the entire known world with sugar, could they?
He froze then re-thought the question. Could they?

A bustle of life was on the playground; whoops and hollers from all the excitement and ingested treats while the children ran about playing games and jumping on playground equipment. Again, he heard the voice of his benefactor. This time it was from during lunch in the man’s bedroom, Charlie had just taken an uncertain bite from the pineapple coconut curry. The dish thankfully turned out milder than the spiced hot cocoa he’d also been given that day, its heat offset by fruit and milk.
Toying with his own spicier version, the candymaker mused in a distant voice (relaxed by earlier ‘events’), “Ya know…I can barely remember a time when the only thing I wanted tah do was make the world a brighter, happier place by fillin’ it with the same thing that gave me joy. Really, that’s all I wanted.”
Baffled, the boy responded, “But you DID do that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah but, people…complicated everything; always tried to turn it into sumthin’ else. Always tried to tamper with it, cheapen it, or ruin it and-and take...” A sadness slicked across the man’s face as he shifted his gaze back toward his small companion. With that rare seriousness that always caught the boy off guard he said, “Charlie, what we have is pure. It’s real and special, so if people find out then they’ll do the same thing…they-they’ll try to take you…away from me. They’ll try to ruin everything again because they can’t understand, because it doesn’t follow their stupid little rules. I…I don’t want to loose you.”
The confession of his insecurity won a smile from the boy. “I’m not going to let anyone take me away from you, Mr. Wonka.”
Something gentle and human appeared briefly before his features hardened again, “You don’t know how awful, truly awful people can be…” He reached across the table, hands shaking as he gripped the boy’s in nearly an attack from the overwhelming surge of emotion, the voice was very soft in spite of that, but the stare was like a portal into a dimension of loneliness, “That’s one of the reasons why you’re special, why I need you.”
The urgency in his hero’s reaction had a deep impact on the boy at that time, as Charlie had swallowed, the seed of a chili brushed down the inside of his esophagus in a similar stripe of burning. No wonder the very same words had reoccurred in the dream. Actually the whole dream was a sort of mish-mosh of everything he'd been through, his own mind lacing his experiences together into a macabre fantasy.
It took the child a moment to decide on the right thing to say, “Mr. Wonka, you have to stop worrying, you have to simply enjoy happiness when it comes and you can never give up believing in the good of the world or it won’t be able to find you. That’s what my Grandpa Joe says.”
Gently the child’s hands were released from the larger, stronger grip. Wonka bowed his head in a guilty fashion as he stated with foreboding, “I ustah believe in the good in people, kay? I used tah think it was just my Dad o-or the kids that teased me who were bad, but it was more than that, and lately… all I see is evil. And it’s growing every day. I can…feel it.”
He had balled his right hand into a fist, pushing it under his ribcage with a pause on the phrase “feel it", the briefest glimpse of some terrible fear, worse than any before, revealing itself as he picked up his head. “That’s why I like it here, inside my factory where it’s safe and warm and there’s this perfect little person who actually gives a tinker’s darn about me…even the scary parts.”
That confession won a sad, sincere expression from the perceived ‘perfect little person’. “Of course I do. Because imagination can be anything; big, small, colorful, wonderful, strange, frightening…”
The young British voice whispered with more emphasis, “Anything.”
His attention came back to reality as clouds parted briefly on the schoolyard, allowing rays of real sunshine to light up the scene and causing the thin layer of snow to glisten like diamonds. Even in the bleakness, Charlie could find beauty, focusing his attentions on the small patches of grass that had survived the freeze and trampling of countless children’s feet. The keenness of his eyes even found a flower that had managed to exist by growing underneath the wooden stoop of the school’s entrance. Such a bright spot of color was rare in his dull, industrial town.
He bent down to examine the bloom better and was surprised to find a litter of candy wrappers near it. With a frown, the boy picked them up, placing them into his pockets for proper disposal later. He wondered, would it be possible to invent evaporating packaging for sloppy people?
And then something funny happened, he wasn’t certain, but for a second it almost seemed like the flower did a curtsey like a tiny ballerina. He blinked and stared again, there did seem to be a face in the striations of color in the petals, and the leaves might look like a small set of wings to a person with who was willing to stretch their mind in those directions. Charlie remembered the sketch his mentor had drawn of him with faerie wings and took a playful glance between his shoulder blades just to make certain he hadn’t grown some. A breeze blew, hiding the sun and pulling the grey shadows back again, but the boy swore, absolutely swore, he heard gratitude in the wind as it whisked past his ear.
Just in case, the sensation prompted him to whisper to the blossom, “You’re welcome.”
“Charlie! Charlie! Come play rope with us!” Shouted the two girls who had invited him to their lunch table. The boy turned and smiled, walking toward them. In his wake, a shuffle of dried leaves and foliage floated on the breeze. Unseen, they landed on the ground in shapes which resembled the letters:
~ R E S C U E R ~
“Ever tried Double Dutch rope before?” Asked the blonde named Alexandria. She was much taller than him. Girls around the golden ticket winner’s age tended to reach a growth spurt while the boys would lag behind until they were teenagers.
Of course Charlie Bucket had never played Double Dutch. He’d never had friends to even hold the ends of the jump rope, not unless he asked his Mum and Dad. And they had things a lot more important to do than that; Mum always busy taking care of the chores and his bedridden grandparents while Dad would be exhausted from his day at work from the toothpaste factory. Neither of them had any extra energy to spare either. It was then that it dawned on the boy that all of his ‘friends’ were adults. Maybe that was another reason why he and Mr. Wonka got a along in a way that other grown-ups and children did not.
However, in response, Charlie simply shook his head ‘No’ for he never mentioned the difficulties of his personal life to anyone even if they had been sort of apparent to everyone.
Alexandria explained, “Stand there and watch us and when you get the knack, jump in! Hunky-dory?”
“The two sets of jump ropes began rhythmatically slapping the ground, crisscrossing each other in a pattern similar to a helix, an object that Charlie now knew was the pattern for all living things. Sort of an odd thing to see in jump ropes but then it probably wasn’t any less uncommon than seeing tiny winged ballet dancers inside of a flower. The girls also sang nonsensical limericks to accompany their playing. He liked the game immediately and was certain Mr. Wonka and the Oompa-loompas would too!
I eat my peas with honey,
I've done it all my life.
It looks a little funny.
But it keeps them on my knife!
How many peas can I get on my knife?
One! Two! Three! . . .
They kept right on counting until someone jumped wrong, accidentally stepping on one of the ropes and breaking the rhythm. Then somebody else took a turn. It didn’t take long before the heir to Wonka industries was certain that he had ‘the knack’ and removed his outer vestments in order to join in. As he stood waiting, they chanted another ditty:
Apartment for rent, inquire within,

When Alexandria Amazonia moves out, let Charlie Bucket move in!
As soon as the tall girl hopped out, the Bucket child jumped in to give it his best try. Hop. Whisk! Whisk! Hop. Skip. Whippitah! Whippitah! Twist and Skip. Whisk! Whisk! Hop. Whippitah! Whippitah! They began to chant an appropriate song:
Chocolate bears and gingerbread cats,

All dressed up in whipped-cream hats.
Danced in the garden under the moon,
Beat sweet rhythms with a wooden spoon,
Whirling, turning, jumping to the beat,
Melting down to their ice cream feet.
When the baker ran to see,
They ran beneath the gum-gum tree,
Running in between the rows,
Tripping over ice cream toes.
There were 1, 3, 3 . . .
Hop. Hop. Whisk! Whisk! Skip. Skip. Whippitah! Whippitah! "Turn around and touch the floor!" Whisk! Whisk! Hop. Hop. Whippitah! Whippitah! Skip. Skip. Over and over again, changing slightly if they altered their melodies. In a short time he had beaten Alexandria’s long held record despite the rope holders doing their best to try and trip up the jumper.
Faster and faster the ropes were skipped to playful limericks while little Charlie didn’t miss a beat, the thick padded soles of his shoes helping to give him an excellent trampoline effect as the wildly striped sweater occasionally flipped up enough to reveal a flash of midriff skin along with a peek of inset bellybutton. He let out a laugh, Mr. Wonka was the one who taught him about listening for beat and it was really working! People had a pulse, why not the world? And here he was doing it, he’d found it! The Oompa-loompas certainly believed it to be true and he could nearly hear & see the tiny men all around him performing instead of the schoolgirls.
The activity was opening up his senses to all sorts of things that he hadn’t noticed before: the way every building in his town looked nearly identical, crushed up against each other, the lack of nature anywhere, the single tree outside the school whose roots seemed to ache like old bones as they forced themselves up through the cement. Angry graffiti marred some of the buildings from young people desperate for recognition of any kind. The state of repairs that the school itself was in need of, it wouldn't be long before it looked like his own home. Where was the concern for the children's environment? It was…wrong. This wasn’t how things we supposed to be, was it? Were these the sorts of things Mr. Wonka saw when he looked at the world outside the factory?
A falsely happy, tin melody shot into his ears. His eyes focused on an even less welcome site at the far side of the playground - A Ficklegruber Never-Melting Ice Cream Truck. Ficklegruber’s indeed, he thought! That competitor had stolen the recipe from Mr. Wonka by using spies! He was one of the reasons that the great factory had been closed causing Grandpa Joe and many, many others to loose their jobs and the economy to fall. Not to mention costing his hero the ability to trust.
Several children were gathered at the truck, and they were doing something very curious. Rather than paying the man money, he was handing it TO them. And the next thing the boy saw, shocked him further. These children had resisted eating their treats and were passing the new Wonka creations right into his competitor’s hands!
“NO! STOP IT!” Charlie screamed, though managing not to miss a beat.
“Bollocks, he saw.” Whispered Alexandria to one of the children she was standing next to.
“How the bugger did he do that from so far off?” The other child responded with annoyance.
The betrayal caught him so off guard that he finally tripped up and hit the ground; his bare knees slightly scuffed and red from touching the ice. He stared up and panted, “You mean you KNEW?! You TRICKED me?”
The rope people quickly ran around in circles, deliberately tangling up the golden ticket winner. Forced to collapse to the dirt, Charlie struggled and fought back the tears that wanted to come out as they pulled the ropes too tight for him to move. Urging them to think he begged, “They were gifts. Mr. Wonka wanted to share his marvelous candy with you, why would you trade kindness and magic for something…something as common as money?”
Both girls gawked before the second spoke again, “How the bugger does he keep hearing us? Is the twerp bionic or something?”
Alexandria twisted her lip up and pushed one eyebrow down in judgment. “Maybe money is common to YOU, Cinderella boy.”
“I bet you think you’re SOO special now Charlie BUNK-IT, but you’re not.” She flung the long locks of her golden hair back as she looked down upon the tangled child. Her voice was softer, accenting the cruelty in the feminine tone, “You’re still nothing more than a stinky dumb cabbage head and you always will be. I feel sorry for Mr. Wonka. He MUST be crazy as a loon to pick someone as pathetic as you to take over his entire chocolate factory. You’ll never be able to do it.”
“Yeah, I should have won that ticket!” Shouted one of the kids.
“Stuff it!” The girl commanded them. Clearly, her lovely appearance did not match her inner spirit, much like the youngsters at the day of the tour. Her attention returned back as she added with spite, “ANY of us would have been a better choice then you.”
The ice cream truck with faded burgundy stripes had driven up the road to the side where Wonka’s heir was helplessly being trapped. It allowed a closer view of the driver and the boy could see an attractive young man in a plaid vest and bow tie laughing at him while holding up the ill-gotten goodies. A mixture of anger and pain built up inside the child, Alexandria’s words stung because a part of him believed her – a doubt that nibbled at the back of his mind. Would he ever be able to live up to Mr. Wonka’s expectations? Physical attentions had proved a great distraction from mental ones. He felt like he had already let his idol down and dreaded having to tell him that one of his most hated competitors got his hands on the new candies.
An even worse blow came when three boys began searching through his book bag that had been left lying on the ground from when he’d joined the jump rope game. The child blurted out with a crack in his voice, “Leave that alone! Those are my personal things!”
This of course prompted them to deliberately turn the bag upside down dumping the contents onto the lawn; books, papers, sketches, a pencil kit, and a strangely reflective black object. “Oh, ho, ho, and what do we have ‘ere? A knife? Why little bucket brains, I never knew ya had it in you. It’s a real fancy one too. Figures, Mr. Fancy Pants.”
“You have NO RIGHT to touch that!” His blue-green eyes stayed focused on the bully that was approaching him, no doubt the very same one that had taken the lunch money from the small boy who was forced to accept a free one. The child finally screamed out a shrill, “HEEEL--*
But a scarf was twisted over the lower portion of Charlie’s face in order to silence him. It smelled sickeningly of little girl’s baby powder perfume. Alexandria reached over his shoulder toward the stocky boy who put several large bills into her hand as he stated, “There’s your cut of the profits Boss Lady. Huh, speaking of cutting…”
The bare blade was suddenly placed under the young Bucket’s chin.
If anyone had touched the child’s skin it would most assuredly have been as cool as his mentor’s usually was; blood pressure dropped and his stomach was churning. Only a minute had passed but it felt like hours! Where were the teachers that should be watching them? Where was anybody who cared? His eyes darted about in panic. Why did the rest of the children only look on?! Their faces revealed being half fascinated to see what would happen next and half bound by fear of getting involved. Neither emotion was of any help to the innocent victim.
Inwardly he scolded himself for forgetting that he’d left the Pagan instrument inside his bag for safekeeping. Thank goodness the bully was wearing gloves against the cold since Mr. Wonka had told his heir that whomever touched the object affected its energy and he certainly didn’t want this cruel person’s energy in there.
To his surprise, Mr. Ficklegruber called out in an American accent, “Hey! What’re you kids up to?! Don’t MURDER him!”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill him, only mess up those pretty widdle baby clothes of his.” Said the bully mockingly as he kicked up icy dirt then rubbed his boots off on the wool shorts and striped socks. Immediately after that, the large boy began taking fast slashes at the sweater with a muttered, “Hard cheese if he gets a little ‘scratched’ in the process.”
No further complaint was lodged from the driver as he too watched on with the crowd.
The boy was numb with shock, entirely unsure what would happen to him next. An insanely sharp blade satisfactorily sliced through his beautiful garment like it was made of softened butter, but just as Mr. Wonka’s sword had not cut the man’s own skin, neither did Charlie’s athame cut his. For these instruments were so special that they would not wound their masters. However, neat slices did expose the child’s tender skin and one pert nipple to the chilled air.
In the bully’s zealous frenzy, he discovered that the same protection to the blade’s double edge did not hold true for himself. He used vulgarity that would have infuriated the factory owner, “Ouch! God-Fucking-Damn it! I cut me own sodding hand. Ah, it stings like a son of a bitch!”
He’d dropped the blade and gripped his hand with a hiss. It currently seemed paralyzed, despite only having a mark the size of a paper-cut.
“Tsk. Quit being such a whinge.” Said Alexandria as she bent to pick the athame up herself, but a curdling voice stopped her just before a single bare finger touched it.
“My Word! What IS going on over here?!” Mrs. Applebottom had begun to rush over causing all of the students to scatter and Charlie to finally collapse upon the ground. Ficklegruber’s truck peeled away in a loud gearing of the engine and screeching of tires. The teacher could hardly believe the state of the kind pupil. She shouted loudly, “HEEELPP!!”
Of course none came and the woman was too overcome with her own fear and emotion to touch or comfort the boy. He managed to pull himself together, thinking of Mr. Wonka’s reputation. The partly damaged jump ropes fell slack as he sat up. The site of the athame and its sheath left lying on the ground with the other contents of his sling bag caused him to thrust forward and shuffle thing back together in a panic before Mrs. Applebottom or any other teacher discovered that he’d brought a “weapon” to school. He’d end up in worse trouble than the bullies!
The wide bottomed woman could only look on distraught, nibbling at her nails. “Charlie, I want you to give me every name of every student who was responsible for doing this to you and I’ll make sure that their parents are contacted and that they get suspended. I-I figured your renewed presence after such a long absence would upset the students, but I never thought it would be in SUCH a negative way. Perhaps you’ve been flaunting yourself a bit too much today.”
The heir of the chocolate factory glanced at her over his shoulder. As compassionate as he was, even he could hardly believe the woman had said such a thoughtless thing in light of the events. Before he could decide whether or not to respond there was a loud explosion from a short distance away.
BANG!
“Wot on Earth?! NOW who’s being attacked?!” As soon as she said that, three more loud explosions were heard in near unison. “GUNFIRE?! Charlie, wot sort of riff-raff has your fame brought to our little school?!”
It occurred to Charlie to check a smaller pocket within his bag where he had stored secret candy that Mr. Wonka had insisted on giving him despite his protests. Oh no. With a gulp, the disheveled boy stated, “I don’t think it’s a gun, Mrs. Applebottom. It’s exploding…candy.”

The place the young Bucket was placed after that was in the school office because the three boys and Alexandria were all in the clinic with rather dramatic damage done to their teeth along with black soot stains that wouldn’t wipe clean from their fronts. Further, the paralyzation in the bully’s right hand had spread to his entire body, leaving him lying catatonic on a cot. The other students really couldn’t communicate with their mouths but the nurse had dismissed their scribbles about a strange switchblade in sweet Charlie Bucket’s bag as balderdash.
The boy hadn’t bothered to look at anyone since he’d been placed in the corner chair to wait for a police person. Unfortunately, everyone was rather tied up keeping a boundary outside of the factory and hospital in order to limit further contamination from acidic overspills of the town’s sewers. He was sort of glad since he didn’t really want to talk to a police person anyway. Not long after Mrs. Applebottom had found him, he'd released the lunch he had been so pleased to try into a toilet of the boy's bathroom. At least a piece of Candyfloss freshened his breath and cleaned HIS teeth. He'd really thought those other kids liked him and even the ones who might have still didn't do anything to help him. Mr. Wonka's warning made a lot more sense now. While he'd never wish revenge on anyone, it was like fate had already handled it for him...it seemed to have a habit of doing that around the candymaker.
“What kind of a man invents candy that explodes inside of children’s mouths?!” Said one secretary to another while she glanced at the Bucket child who was clinging to his still unmarred wool coat, clinging it around himself like the hug he so badly wanted.
“The kind that looks like this.” Responded the other in a gossipy tone, as she put down a recently purchased newspaper.
It was not the most flattering photo ever taken of the candymaker for this paper was partly owned by his competitors. His skin was the color of chalk, red lips curled in reaction to the prying reporter's questions, eyes covered by bugged out glasses that made him look like an alien wearing a top hat and a fur coat. “Ugh. He looks like an absolute ghoul. Is it really a good idea to have that near children?”
“Seems to me it’s a worse idea to have children near Charlie.” Came a young voice from the opposite end of the office.
It was the other girl, the one in the Alice in Wonderland dress who had invited him to the lunch table. She plopped down a different newspaper that had managed to capture a close-up of Wonka right after the he’d done the spontaneous somersault. In this one, the stunning violet eyes were visible along with an amenable smile and top hat being jauntily put back into place. “I think old Willy Wonka is nummy in a mysterious sort of way. Good thing he didn't pick a girl to be his heir, she might fall in love with him.”
The two secretaries began comparing the photos and cooing, deciding which they wanted to believe in and attempting to guage his age. None of which the boy cared to hear but couldn’t tune out. The girl had a cute bob and was wearing shiny lip-gloss, it was a nice reminder of someone he was sorely missing. She proceeded to sit down next to Charlie and affectionately brush his forearm. He couldn’t manage to keep from flinching. A caring look appeared on her face, “My name’s Mary Sue, I’m the one that told Mrs. Applebottom what was going on and I’ve been back there spilling my guts to the Principal. Alexandria treated you like that because you were a threat to her status. I never plan on talking to her again and besides…she was a complete tart. ”
Hesitantly, he glanced at the girl.
“You poor, poor duck. Here, I’ll make you feel better.” She smiled and leaned over giving him a chaste kiss on the lips.
Charlie was too startled to move. He’d had nothing to compare the candymaker’s affections to until now. It was strange to feel lips his size against his own and to feel skin that didn’t have any indication of ever growing a beard. The sensation was pleasant but…it lacked something – Mr. Wonka’s touches were full of a ‘zing’ that made his whole body tingle, like he'd been starving for something that he hadn't even known existed. Instinctively he licked his lip a bit, but disappointingly no trace of sugar remained, only the greasy residue of her lip balm.
She looked hurt, “Didn’t I do it right?”
“No, I mean, yes, you did it right. B-but you see I, uh, know that because I’ve already promised…”, he looked down at the torn glove with the exposed gold band showing through. “..my heart to someone else.”
Mary Sue’s jaw dropped, “A ring? A shy boy like you is going steady already? With who? It’s not Lizzy is it? You should know she’s got a nasty skin disease. Positively revolting! Is it Margaret? She’s not really white, her mother’s half-Jewish. God, I can’t believe you already have a steady and my parents spent a fortune on this frock and I’ve risked all my popularity to save your bum! If you don’t agree to go on a date with me Charlie Bucket, I am NEVER speaking to you again!”
The boy was completely mortified, at having the rug pulled out beneath his feet yet again. She had seemed like such a nice, beautiful girl but here she was saying such ugly things. Even if his heart didn’t already belong to someone else he certainly wouldn’t date her.
Before he could speak, Charlie saw one of the most wonderful sights he ever could have hoped for at that moment. Thin as a rail and not quite as young has he looked, Grandpa Joe scolded the girl, “Young lady, it’s usually the gentleman who asks the lady out and he certainly would never do so with a threat. Love can’t be built on that. You shovel off and think about that.”
Completely intimidated, Mary Sue slunk out of the office leaving Charlie’s appearance more clearly exposed. The old man was completely shocked, “Whatever happened to you?”
“..please, I don’t want to talk about it. I…just want to go. I really need to see Mr. Wonka.” The boy said in a tiny voice. It was all too much at this point. The look on his face had never been so miserable.
His elder didn’t argue, a quick glance around, and while the two secretaries continued to hen peck the two slipped out of the main office and back toward their careful path home. Grandpa Joe stayed quiet as they slowly walked, believing that his grandson would open up when he was ready. But, the silence was disturbed by a familiar tin melody comming up behind them on the empty street alley.
A gasp punctuated the child’s voice as he spun to face the ice cream truck, “Ficklgruber!”
The van drove slowly along side them, “How ya doin’ my boy? Listen, I uh…I feel just awful about what I got you into. That was way outta bounds. What say I give ya the stuff back to make us even?”
It came to a stop and the driver in the plaid vest and bow tie held out the shiny treats for him to take back from the selling window.
Charlie’s eyes widened at the offer, but Grandpa Joe gripped the back of the boy's coat. In his most dignified Public Relations persona, he stated, “I’d prefer that you handed them to ME actually, Mr. Ficklegruber. I'm sure that if your intentions are sincere then you won't mind.”
“Sure Gramps, whatever you want.” A broad smile revealed teeth similar to Mr. Wonka’s but larger with a lot of gum tissue showing. The treats were dangled further out as the old man walked forward to accept them. “And it’s Ficklegruber Junior, actually.”
The boy nervously stayed back and watched, desperate to make sure that Young Mr. Ficklegruber handed them ALL back. He did not notice the back of the van open or the large, form that exited until too late. Large, muscular arms quickly seized and lifted his whole form.
“Mmphf!”
When Grandpa Joe turned to show his grandson all the recovered treats, there was nobody there. He looked back at the vested truck driver, whose expression had grown dark. “Run ya old fart. Run as fast as ya can back to Candyland and tell Weirdo Willy that he’ll meet our demands or he’ll never see his little heir again.”
The old man’s jaw dropped. “Y-you’re kidnapping Charlie!”
“Oh yeah, yer a quick one all right. Next time maybe you shouldn’t stick yer tongues out at us, huh?” And with that he commanded a second elderly man in a train conductor’s cap and overalls, “PUT THE PETAL TO THE METAL, PRODNOSE!”
A glimpse of a third bald-headed man holding his hand over the boy's mouth was revealed through the glass of the truck's rear windows before it turned and squealed loudly out of sight, mechanical music tinkling away.
"All the candymaker's are in on this, aren’t they?” He muttered in astonishment. Grandpa Joe snapped out of talking to himself. He began to run for all he was worth toward the factory, exactly as Ficklegruber had suggested, praying for Charlie the entire time.

Author’s Notes:
P.S. I have no fucking idea why the chapters (volumes) are out of order, that has nothing to do with how I uploaded them. But do be careful to choose the numbers that I used, not Adultfanfiction.net. I still like this site though. <3
(Edit: 12/28/07) As I said on the previous volume, I am re-coding these works for FanFiction.net and embarrassed at the amount of errors that I find, not sizable but still, I apologize. I was always too shy to share my work with a "beta" or secondary reader and I was usually exhausted when I'd be finally posting a volume; they take considerable time to write. However, those are still poor excuses. I shall aim to do better in the future.
As always, the name of the tale is based off of the lyrics of the song “Is It Scary” by Michael Jackson whom I believe was partly inspirational to Burton and Depp’s take on Willy Wonka despite their protests. Marilyn Manson however, was actually considered for the role and I do think he too makes a good comparison. My story however is NOT a statement on any entertainer – it is an exploration of themes, more of a “what if” notion. Do not over interpret these concepts or the religious ones; provoking thought and providing entertainment is my main goal.
The information about Alexander the Great, his army, Hephaistion, and Bagoas is historically factual.
"Scrumdiddlyumtious Bars” are from the first movie and I want one so baaad.
“And for a student to teach his teacher is both presumptuous and rude. Am I making myself clear?” Mr. Turkentine is from the first movie and although he is NOT part of the book whatsoever, I enjoyed the Englishman’s performance. It was very Dahl-like. The second movie didn’t allow us to see Charlie’s teacher, so why not him? The guy has to be one of the worst teacher’s on the planet. Our golden ticket winner wouldn’t go far in life with him giving the lessons!
Mrs. Applebottom is my own creation -- blame me, not Dahl, but she was inspired by his style.
Charlie’s lunch: I was one of those kids who qualified for a “free lunch”. I know from which I speak and that pipsqueak meal I used to get didn’t usually hold me. I’d go home and gobble up enough food for my mother to state, “I don’t have a child, I have a small pony!” I picked MILK and POTATO on purpose for the boy’s meal. The Irish managed to survive on that because together they form a perfect, though perhaps dull, nutrition to keep a person going indefinitely. Cabbage would also add much needed roughage and vitamins (specifically A & C). The body would struggle, but it’s my way of explaining why he wasn’t sickly.
I uh, actually went through a very rough time in school like Charlie too (to put it mildly). Don’t doubt that actual kids can be this wicked.
"Boy Wonder" is actually the term Batman would use toward Robin. I uh, thought it fit here as well.
The logo on the back of the cards can be found at my Deviant Art gallery, please come visit:
http://idolhands.deviantart.com/art/W-Wonka-C-Bucket-Monogram-37454750
An olallieberry is a REAL thing and antioxidents are found in large quantities in this particular fruit - more than blueberries or raspberries. I sort of thought Willy would enjoy them for their silly name and the fact that their color is nearly black.
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Is It Scary