Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

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
- 3
- 4
- 5
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.
________________________________________________________
Title: Is It Scary, volume IV
By: IDOL HANDS
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: for dramatic themes, religion, suggestions of under-aged slash in fiction and history and a bit more...
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed are not my property but that of the estate of R. Dahl, Tim Burton, Freddie Highmore and Johnny Depp. To quote Cartman from Southpark, “Yer breakin’ my balls!” Guys, you’re eating up my life and I don’t got nothin’ but whip marks and reviews to show for it! *bends over for more*
Summary: Let’s just say that there are a couple of surprises in store for both parties and one GIANT question is asked (sorta, kinda, yeah).

"Will you, won't you, will you, won't you join the dance?"

Charlie woke up a little later than usual that morning. It didn’t matter, because he didn’t need to get up for school anymore. Mr. Wonka had convinced the family that Charlie would learn FAR more valuable lessons in the factory than at those under-funded, restrictive public schools. He bargained with the family to give him just one week off from the wretched place to prove this to them. The family reluctantly agreed; a short vacation from his homework couldn’t hurt him too badly they supposed. Not to mention the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Bucket could attest to the fact that public school hadn’t taken them very far. Grandpa Joe pointed out that Willy Wonka himself hadn’t even been to school past the fifth grade!
The Bucket family saw Charlie learn more about history, math, science, and art in that one week with Willy, than he had learned in an entire semester of school. Their boy absorbed everything Mr. Wonka said like a sponge! You also couldn’t stop the boy from explaining it all to the family afterwards! At this point, everyone was learning new things. They agreed to arrange for the chocolatier to be his personal tutor from then on. The district allowed “at home” schooling as long as Charlie showed up once in a while to pass minimum basic tests. The only caveat was that Mr. Wonka should have been a certified teacher or at least a college graduate, but somehow he got around that bit.
The young Bucket picked himself up, yawned, and stretched out his lanky form. He made a short gasp when he realized that he had fallen asleep on the huge book which was wide open to certain texts that he’d probably rather no one in his family saw. He stealthily closed the book shut, wrapped the old dishrag around it, and hefted it back into his canvas book bag. After that he carefully peered through the gaps in his bedroom floor to the main family room. He surveyed the house and found it was completely empty.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Everyone must have already headed to thier various designated jobs around the factory. Charlie felt a tad guilty, he had stuff he should be doing too. Hadn’t Mr. Wonka shown up looking for him yet? Maybe he’d be mad.
He bounced back up and climbed down the rickety ladder. Once he reached the floor, he realized there was a cloth draped over the kitchen table with a note on it. He picked up it up:

Good Morning Starshine! The Earth says HELLO!
Sorry, couldn’t resist. Mr. Wonka already came by this morning.
He said he couldn’t bear to wake you and would be back later. Isn’t it nice to be able to sleep in a little late now that you don’t have regular school?
We left some breakfast for you and Willy to share later.
OK, hope you got lots of sleep so that you can learn everything he needs to teach you!
Hugs and Kisses,
Mom

Near his mother’s signature was a silly doodle of herself with curly hair and a bow. Charlie smiled and removed the cloth to expose a humble breakfast of oatmeal with raisins, butter, syrup, and a bowl of Mr. Wonka’s famous walnuts. That was nice, but…not great. His mentor didn’t really care for oatmeal. He would add a good deal of syrup and nibbled at it to be polite. Actually, the candy maker had taken to arriving too late for breakfast or asking Charlie to meet him some place in order to avoid it.
Today was gonna be different he decided! He had an idea. He opened the heavily slanted front door that had no business staying in its hinges and took a step on the lawn. He looked down at the long, candy grass that tickled his bare feet - everywhere were miracles to him. Looking around the Chocolate Room, where they lived, he saw a lack of activity. The boy raised a balled fist to his mouth, cleared his throat with a small “ahem”, and proceeded to let out a loud, “Li-Li-Li-Li-Li!”
Almost immediately a diminutive man, barely three feet tall stood at Charlie’s side. He crossed his arms across his chest and made a quick bow from his middle. The Bucket boy did the same and they both smiled at each other. OK, now for the hard part.
Charlie put his hands together and spread out his palms, then he made a grunt for emphasis. He took his right hand, pushing the fingers together like he was going to pick something up out of his flat left hand, then lifted it to his mouth, back down to his stomach and rubbed. The next gesture was the tipping of an imaginary hat with a very broad smile, a silly tooting noise, followed by pointing to the horizon, raising both hands back up with the fingers spread out; each thumb and index finger put together to create a circle. The child was pretty sure he did that right. “Important: what food/meal does Mr. Wonka like for breakfast?”
The Oompa-loompa man gave a quick, genuine grin with an approving murmured sound. He made a thumbs-up gesture at Charlie to indicate that he understood. The people had picked up that particular movement from Willy himself; the man had influenced their culture in many ways.
Charlie watched as the tiny dark-skinned man with the top-notch attempted to answer him. He started by mixing an imaginary bucket in his left arm, then formed perfect circles by putting his two hands together. He startled the enraptured boy with a hissing sound. Then the man seemed lost for a word to explain the sound. He pointed into Charlie’s house, grunted, then pressed his hands together in a prayer kind of motion to say, “May I enter?”
The boy naturally stepped aside to let him in. The man quickly scampered over to Charlie’s stove and tapped on it. OK, so it’s a hot, circular food that needs to be mixed? The boy pondered a few seconds. It popped into his head! “Pancakes?! Is it pancakes?”
The tiny man smiled and tapped his nose repeatedly then pointed at Charlie with an excited “whoop!” Yes, it was! Charlie beamed at him, “I’m gonna make him pancakes then!”
Now some Oompa-loompas understood more English than others, very few spoke it, but the Golden Ticket Winner usually liked to practice his skills before he tried to find out. The Oompa-loompa he had summoned got a thoughtful look on his face, flared his hands forward, then re-flexed his fingers once. He added two short grunts followed by a high-pitched noise. This meant “Wait here”, it also implied excitement.
The tiny man returned quickly with two others. They were holding some items in their hands and gave the boy a unison of deep-sounding giggles. Apparently they liked the idea and wanted to help. “Silly Oompa-loompas”, thought Charlie and giggled back at them. He went over to the small closet and pulled out his father’s old toothpaste factory apron. “Right then, let’s get started!”
A short while later, the lop-sided door was slowly parted open a tad wider than it had been left. The family didn’t usually leave the door open even though it was perfectly safe to do such. Willy peered into the quiet room; a lumpy, tall cloth on the rough kitchen table blocked his view. He took one step into the room exposing half his body, the other half hidden by the door. From there he saw the most charming display of Charlie standing on a small stool at the oven stirring a very large pot with a wooden spoon.
The boy was still in his white cotton nightshirt. It came to slightly above his knees, exposing his slender fair-skinned legs. He had just placed the spoon into the large pot and pulled it out for a taste; his lips puckered together to blow the heat off. Carefully he was tasting the substance, trying to test it as his mentor had taught him with smacking noises. Mr. Wonka proceeded to try and very, very quietly enter the room. He silently laid his cane against the wall. However, a few steps and the floor creaked loudly under his bad right leg. He squinted up his face. “Drat”, he thought.
Charlie let out a loud gasp. “Mr. Wonka! I didn’t hear you come in!” He hopped off the short stepstool. The spoon was still in hand and Willy could now see the pale blue and white apron that the child was wearing or perhaps wearing him. The hem came to the middle of his calf, making the chocolatier smile dreamily. He also liked all the flour and splatters of mysterious goop on the lad.
“Whatcha doin’?” Said Wonka, stepping closer, hands behind his back.
Charlie quickly tucked the spoon behind his back and grinned making his round cheeks show off their deep dimples.
“It’s supposed to be a SUR-prize.” He said mimicking his mentor from the day of the famous tour.
“Oh, what did I win?” There was almost a crafty look to Wonka’s bright smile.
“It’s under the tablecloth.” Charlie answered shyly.
One dusty-colored purple glove made its appearance, gripped the cloth, and in a flash yanked off the cloth. The boy flinched at how easily the candy maker did the whole motion.
Wonka’s mouth dropped open at what had been exposed. The man laughed in approval and slapped his hand to his face. “Holy Macaroni, Charlie! You didn’t have to do all this for me!”
There were several very tall piles of pancakes made from different batters, cut fruit with decorative foliage, freshly whipped cream, bacon, sausage, freshly squeezed juice, even flowers! The most tantalizing aspect was the dozen or so bowls containing things like: jellybeans, nuts, peanut butter chips, green maraschino cherries, broken up graham cracker, and Mr. Wonka’s own ‘nerd’ candies. These weren’t ordinary flapjacks; they were designed to be enjoyed like sundaes!
“The Oompa-loompas helped,” confessed the boy “and they told me this was your favorite thing to have for breakfast.”
Again Wonka’s smile seemed to hide a secondary emotion. “Really? And they didn’t say a thing to me as I headed over here. How naughty of them.”
Charlie could tell from the chocolatier’s tone that he was only teasing.
“But then, I’ve been asking them to keep secrets too.” And with that, the man put forward the stacked pile of boxes that he had been concealing behind his back. Multiple boxes in brightly patterned paper were held together with a long, tied-up rope of licorice.
"What's THAT?" The boy's entire face lit up. He completely forgot to hide the spoon anymore.
“Howsabout you take this up to your room and find out? I’ll stay down here and see about this breakfast, which IS my favorite…especially now.” He looked into Charlie’s blue-green eyes. Casually Wonka leaned against the ladder leading to the boy’s humble room, one arm dangling the parcels in front of himself.
Charlie put down the spoon, grabbed a towl, and hurridly wiped off his face and hands. He dashed over to Mr. Wonka and climbed up the ladder with the parcel, an appreciative grin on his face. The candy maker allowed his lavender eyes to dart upwards for a brief second. Telling himself that he wanted to make sure that the boy didn’t fall, not that he was intentionally finding out that Charlie wore nothing at all underneath his night clothes. That reminded him of something else he wanted to discuss.
He cleared his throat, adjusted the ‘W’ pinned there and headed towards the table.
The sound of packages being very carefully unwrapped tickled his ears; he knew how the boy unwrapped things, he nearly wept watching him undo a candy wrapper for the first time. It was like watching poetry, such reverence for his work! There was also the element of self-torture that the boy was inflicting on himself, depriving himself of instant gratification, extending the process to make last as long as possible. His eyes had gone half-mast with the imagery. He better stop or he was going to over-excite himself again. The thought of Augustus Gloop being the exact opposite of those images did the trick.
“OH! I nearly forgot! There’s a special chocolate sauce for them on the oven – It’s made from the chocolate river. Don’t worry, it’s completely sanitary!” Came the boy’s chipper voice from upstairs. He was accustomed to many of Mr. Wonka’s peculiarities, but it made sense, even to him, that no bare hand should ever touch the magnificent mixing device. The ingenious chocolate waterfall provided the chocolate for the same bars he had consumed on his own birthdays!
Willy took off his striped velvet coat, draping it over the back of the chair. He also put his shiny black top hat at the place next to him. Next, he walked over to the stove and examined the gently percolating, large pot. His attention went to the spoon. He glanced up towards his heir’s room but couldn’t see the boy. Tucking back one side of his hair, he picked it up and examined where Charlie had put his mouth. There was still sauce clinging to the device. With slight trepidation, he raised the spoon to his own mouth and gave the ladle a slow lick over its porous texture, closing his eyes, sucking the end for a second before beginning to analyze all of the flavors. He was pretty sure he could taste him underneath the familiar ones. How interesting.
“I don’t believe it!” Announced Charlie, snapping the man out of his trance. Wonka smiled and proceeded to ladle out the sauce correctly into a small pitcher that had been placed on the nearby countertop. He headed back towards the table and sat down.
“Ya like it?” He said kindly, now happily eyeing the banquet before him while tucking a bib into the top of his high-collared vest.
“It’s so..they’re all so beautiful! It’s too nice for me, I’ll just look silly.” Came the cheerful complaints.
“Nonsense, you’ll look every bit the part of an heir to a candy empire; like a little prince! Put on your favorite one right now, I wanna see you.” Charlie was amused to hear Mr. Wonka talking with his mouth full – took a lot of edge off of the commands.
By the time Charlie had made it back down, Mr. Wonka had a plate completely covering his face. He was thoroughly licking the surface clean.
“Guess you liked it then.” Said Charlie with a satisfied laugh.
Wonka might have been embarrassed to have been caught doing something so childish, if he weren’t distracted by how perfect the boy looked to him now.
There he stood, back arched, slim form exposed and dressed in a fanciful costume that perfectly complemented his mentors. Where Wonka usually wore dark colors accented with brighter ones, Charlie’s was the opposite. A rich hunter green and royal blue composed the tailored shorts, stylized trimmed shirt (which had tails like a tuxedo jacket), and the cropped boxy jacket. The sleeves were just a bit short, in order to show off the flared cuffs. His small key ring and chain hung from his trimmed pant pockets that peeked out from under the shorter front of the shirt. A small cravat decorated and concealed his throat.
Black piping and patterns toned down the other vibrant colors, while another stripe picked up on the deep plum red of Willy’s favorite jacket. It was also Charlie’s favorite and was the reason he had picked this outfit, because it matched his benefactor today. The best part of the whole thing for the boy was the mini top hat with the two chic feather’s springing from the side. Tufts of his chestnut brown hair stuck out here and there, catching the mock sunlight, turning strands of it golden.
Charlie’s legs were partly covered by tall socks that were being held up by small garters around his calves. Since the Oompa-loompas had to measure Charlie’s feet with his boots still on them, the shoes had a small platform to them and a chunky quality, but were far more elegant that his old ones, plus they had large gold buckles on the side. The child was only twisting the matching gloves in his hands; too nervous to put them on at the moment. He had wanted to rush down and show off, but now the man’s stare was starting to get to him.
“Come here.” Mr. Wonka patted the seat next to him. He realized how intense his face must have seemed at the moment, so he instantly put the famous, plastic grin back on. This didn’t really relax the boy, but he was almost accustomed to the eerie mask-like expression. He couldn’t possibly tell him not to do that, he’d had to get used to it.
“Uh, did you pick up the book that I left in the library the other day?” Mr. Wonka’s voice was as non-chalant as he could manage. His extraordinary eyes had fixated on his own hands.
“You mean the one that you left on the table? The one about Alexander the Great?” Queried Charlie.
“Yeah, that’s the one. Uh, listen I um, was just lookin’ somethin’ up and I didn’t mean to leave it so carelessly lying about. I realize that your family might be upset if they saw something like that, ya know?” Mr. Wonka was now stroking the back of his own hair, glancing quickly in Charlie’s direction.
“Oh.” Charlie said matter of a factly, “Don’t worry they didn’t see it, but I thought you wanted me to read it, so I did.”
“Hmm.” Mr. Wonka said in a plain tone, but his body language gave away his nervousness. The quirk at the turn of his mouth gave away satisfaction. He was twisting his fork around and bouncing his left leg a bit. “What parts did you read?”
Another blush crept up to Charlie’s face. Should he tell the truth? “I read about Paganism, that was REALLY interesting and…and then parts about…Alexander and…how men well, teachers……” A long pause of silence followed. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
“They had a very thorough way of education back then, huh?” Offered the candyman, putting pancakes onto Charlie’s plate.
“Well ya know why they did that? To create a stronger bond; to make the learning process go better. I had pulled out the book to look up some recipes that are in there, ones on honey wine and Greek pastries with philo dough. Didja get to that part?” Mr. Wonka had an imperceptible grin at the corners of his bow-shaped mouth. He was adding dollops of the whipped cream to Charlie’s multi-colored stack.
Charlie blushed more. “No…s-sorry.” He felt guilty that he had only seemed interested in the more lascivious parts of the text. Apparently, Mr. Wonka had read it for other purposes.
“Hey, it’s a pretty big book, I’m surprised you read as much as you did in one night. You’re a very good reader, ya know that?” Wonka tapped the end of the boy’s scooped nose playfully, then his eyes went to examining all of Charlie’s features more closely.
“It’s cuz I used to sell newspapers, used tah read ‘em to my family too. I suppose that’s why.” The boy was darting his eyes into and away from Mr. Wonka’s gaze. His jitters were causing his accent to get a bit thicker than usual.
“It did get me to thinkin’ though. We, uh, we don’t really have a ‘special bond’, do we? I mean, I’m not related to you or anything, sometimes it makes me kinda sad. You could very well decide not to live here anymore and I’d be stuck all by my lonesome again.” Mr. Wonka had not moved from his close proximity and had now put an arm around the back of the boy’s chair. He had also deftly removed the bib that was previously added to guard his wardrobe.
“But I’d never do that! I swear! I can’t believe you’d even worry about it!” Charlie nearly shouted his statement.
“You said no to me once already.” Mr. Wonka’s voice had taken on that more masculine sound that the boy rarely heard.
“There’s so much I want to share with you, so much I wanna teach you, so much I want you to understand, but I need to be sure you’ll stay by my side. I know you love your family, you already picked them over me and my factory, but how do I know…” Mr. Wonka didn’t get a chance to finish that thought.
“I DO love you, you’re my friend, you’re my hero!” Charlie couldn’t stand listening to the ‘great’ Willy Wonka tear himself up anymore. He grabbed him and hugged him tightly. “I love you.” His words were slightly muffled by the man’s clothes. Wonka caught the brand new top hat that was toppling off of the boy's head and carefully put it onto the table next to his own much larger one; creating an unintentional symbolism.
An arm wrapping around Charlie’s form exactly as firmly as his own, told the boy that he hadn’t committed a major offense. The child could not see Mr. Wonka’s expression, on his ethereally pale face, but it looked enraptured.
Disturbing the boy’s focus on how Willy Wonka smelled a little bit more like a man than he would have thought under the candy-coating, the chocolatier whispered into his ear, “No one has ever said that to me, Charlie.”
The boy couldn’t imagine that. He couldn’t imagine having never been told that every day of his life. How awful, he must be mistaken. “But your father…”
“Uh-uh. Not out-loud, not once.” He was holding the boy’s form even tighter as he said that through clenched teeth.
“But he does, you know that.” Charlie was getting a little suffocated, so subsequently he was trying to crane his head back to see Willy’s face.
“Yeah, sure, that’s why he picked up and moved and left me all alone in the world when I was your age.” The man’s voice was cracking, there was almost no cheer to it. How could someone the Young Bucket boy had come to care about so much be walking around in so much despair? It wasn’t fair. The child realized that, in a weird way, he had had far more than Mr. Wonka ever did.
After the long, forceful embrace the chocolatier realized how dramatic the situation had gotten. He gently released his heir. “So you wanna promise?” A pinch more cheer in his tone now.
“Promise?” The child’s eyes were glossy with sympathy, he was fighting not to cry.
“Yeah, to stay friends forever, to be my pupil, to stand by me through all the…indoctrinations. I’m not going to lie, you already know, it isn’t always going to be, uh, pleasant. I’m asking a lot, but in return I’ll give you more than you could ever dream.” Mr. Wonka was grasping both of Charlie’s small hands inside his own. There was a pleading sensation to the pose.
‘More than he could ever dream’, the phrase echoed through the boy’s head. There was every reason in the world to believe that Mr. Wonka meant that. He paused on the ‘wouldn’t always be pleasant part’; he already did know that about life. It was true.
‘No one has ever said that to me before’ also echoed in his head. Someone should say it to him often from now on.
“I promise.” His voice was breathless. He had to say it. He meant it, but he was scared too.
Mr. Wonka’s bent posture suddenly took him to the floor and onto one knee.
Charlie’s eyes widened, his delicate mouth barely parted; a thousand things running through his head at the same time that a stunned silence seemed to be filling it.
The pale purple eyes focused on his own, an unseen look of complete seriousness on Wonka’s face. The man had reached one gloved hand into his vest pocket and produced a small, gold, circular object. It was a ring.
And then he placed it onto Charlie’s slender finger. It fit perfectly.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Is It Scary