Charlie Bucket and the Factory of Chocolate
as seen at http://dailybloog.blogspot.com/
By Nathan Viney and Roahl Dahl.
Unedited and Ungrammafixed.
Charlie Bucket was a small nine year old boy. He lived with his starving family of six. Grandpa Joe, Grandma Josephine, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina. As well as his mother and father who tried their hardest to bring money into the house.
Charlie was a dreamer, he dreamt of only one thing. Willy Wonka’s factory. Wouldn’t it just be fantastic to escape the gloomy world he lived in now? Bring his parents into an unknown place of colour and candy?
His house was a broken down cottage, held up by weak planks of rotting wood and mucky metal nails.
Past their home and up the thin road was the factory, a huge steaming building closed off by large metal gates.
“Willy Wonka was an amazing man.” Grandpa Joe woke from his nap, the other elderly continued in slumber. Charlie walked over to the side of the bed that the four old people shared.
“Have you ever met him?”
“Yes Charlie. When I was younger I was asked by him to try out a new chocolate taste. He was handing out small nibbles on the street just outside our house.”
Charlie’s eyes widened. “What did it taste like Grandpa Joe?”
“Like heaven Charlie! It was a cube of pure chocolate. He called it the Milk an’ Smooth Delectable Slab. I think it was one of his first creations.”
“Wow Grandpa Joe…. That’s…..” Charlie was obviously lost for words. “Marvellous.”
Grandpa Joe began to rest his shoulders back onto the pillow, “Did you get today’s paper Charlie?”
Charlie nodded and pulled the paper out from his shoulder bag handing it to his grandfather.
“Cabbage soups ready deary!” Charlie’s mother, Mrs. Bucket called from the other side of the room where the crooked kitchen was melded into the walls. She was stirring a wooden spoon in a small metal pot. “There… isn’t much I’m afraid today.”
Grandpa George threw his arms up in joy, “I’m glad! I’d rather starve.”“Oh my gallows,” Grandpa Joe butt in whilst reading the front page of the folding newspaper.
“Every day, cabbage soup. When are we going to get any real money in here?”
Mrs. Bucket frowned, “Well I don’t see you getting up and finding a job George. You’ve been in that bed for twenty years. The only one working is Mr. Bucket.”
“Oh my... did anyone hear me?” Grandpa Joe was still staring at the front page. “IT’S MR. WILLY WONKA!”
“Watch your language whilst Charlies here Grandpa Joe,” Charlies mother spoke. “Charlie, if you ever repeat any of your grandparent’s words I’ll send out in the cold without a jumper.”
Charlie squirmed but was anxious to find out what his grandfather was talking about, “No mum… Wonka is a chocolate and candy creator, a pure genius.”
“Candy rots your teeth darling, look at mine.” His mother smiled making one, black tooth hanging from her top gum visible. Dribble flopped down her front as she closed her mouth again.
“Probably the cabbage that did that,” George shouted.
“EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME.” Grandpa Joe screamed. “It says here Willy Wonka has sent out 5 Golden Tickets. They are hidden in 5 Wonka Bars across the world.”
“So?” George was not interested, he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.
Charlie was hopping up in joy. “When does it start?”
“The first ticket gets sent out today!” Grandpa Joe replied.
Charlie’s mother dropped the pan on her toes and screamed as hot water boiled down her legs.
Charlie hugged Grandpa Joe. “It’s my birthday tomorrow; I get my bar of chocolate for the year.”
Joe was nodding and agreeing happily as they hugged and giggled.
Mr. Bucket finally arrived home after he’d been shovelling snow from the drive ways of the village folk. “Brr… its sure cold out there Buckets.”
Charlie’s mother was on the floor bandaging up her legs, “Welcome home darling. Apparently its Charlie’s birthday tomorrow so have you got the money for the candy?”
Mr. Bucket nodded and held out a neatly wrapped bar of chocolate. “I heard about the competition. Five people around the world get to visit Mr. Wonka’s factory for a whole day. I thought to myself, well that would be the greatest birthday present when I was your age.”
“Who is this Wonka fella?” Mrs. Bucket asked throwing the Wonka wrappers Charlie had on his bedroom wall into the dustbin.
Mr. Bucket was happy to reply, “He is a candy genius. I used to work for him you know. He created chocolate eggs from chocolate birds and liquorish dips from liquorish fish. No one knew how he did it. Soon he built that huge factory you see up the street.
But there were spies, giving ingredients to people like Slugworth and Augnelly PikkleBum.”
“What happened?” Charlies was interested.
“I was fired, along with everyone else. The factory was closed down. But one day steam started to explode out of the pipes and the colourful lights and chocolate smell appeared once more…. Someone’s working in there with him. But it isn’t me…”
Charlie sighed and slowly grabbed the chocolate from his father’s hand.
“Which end should I open first?”
“Does it really matter? The golden ticket is going to be visible on both ends.”
Charlie and his father frowned towards Grandpa George who had, after this comment fallen back to sleep.
Grandpa Joe snatched the bar from Charlie. “Isn’t this exciting? I’ll open it if you are going to be such a girl.”
Grandpa Joe tore the silvery paper away from the rectangle of chocolate slowly and carefully, his eyes twinkling as he shook.
Charlie saw it first, “The Golden Ticket.” He said exploding in joy; he began to dance around the room.
“I’m going to take George!” Grandpa Joe cried moving his legs rapidly under the covers kicking Grandma Georgina out of the bed. There was a bang on rotten wood, silence and then celebrating once again.
Mr. Bucket coughed rather loudly. “Grandpa Joe, I do think actually… it was Charlie’s birthday present, not yours. He should be the one going, and he should be the one who takes someone.”
Joe fell silent, dropping the ticket to his side. Charlie smiled weakly at his father and took the ticket lightly from Joe’s hand.
He was holding the ticket in two hands glaring and reading at the golden glow. “Bring one person from your family. Mr. Wonka shakes you warmly by the hand and introduces you to a day in the factory. He says every child will get a truck load of candy to last them their lives… as well as…”
“What? You’re not going.” Mumbled Mrs. Bucket. “A truck load of teeth rotting candy? I do not think so. Not in my household.”“We can ask if we can not have that mum.” Charlie said smiling. Mrs. Bucket realised this and nodded firmly.
“Meet me tomorrow, OH MY GALLOWS GRANDPA JOE! THAT’S TOMMOROW!”
“GET THAT MUD OFF YOUR PANTS!” Grandpa Joe was shaking and laughing loudly.
Charlie looked down to his patchy knees. “I don’t have any mud on my pants…” He left this and stared at the ticket once again.
“So will you take your old Grandpa Joe Charlie?” Mr. Bucket grinned with crooked teeth. Joe was moving closer to Charlie. “No Dad, I’m going to take you! You seem to know more about it than anyone else!”
Joes face dropped, literally. He collapsed off of the bed and broke his neck.
“Cabbage soups up!”
The day came, hundreds, thousands of people surrounded the gates of Wonka’s factory.
Mr. Bucket was using his property as a visitor car park. The vehicles came in and paid him a good amount of money to dump their metal on the grass.
Willy Wonka was a tall man, with a dark top hat. He wore a long red coat and held a cane full of candy. “Welcome my children, to my factory.” He pulled a leaver on the wall by the large front doors and the giant gates opened.
The five lucky/unlucky winners stepped slowly inside the creaky separating gate. As they did, the gate swiftly closed and locked loudly behind them.
They turned surprised and only saw the flashing lights of paparazzi. “Come forward.” Wonka said beckoning them.
The five children all came with one parent. There was a fat child, named Augustus Gloop who came with his plump mother. Mike Teavee, who was obsessed with soup operas, he stood with his father. Violet Beauregarde, who loved chewing gum so much she would jump in front of a bus for it, she was with her mother.
There was also a British girl named Veruca Salt who rather enjoyed getting ANYTHING SHE WANTED from her Father who was with her today.
Last of all were Charlie Bucket and his Father Mr. Bucket who were at the back of the rampaging line of visitors.
Soon enough they were all closed in behind the front door.
Wonka was smiling at the children and parents, locked on a smile he awaited someone to speak. “I’m Violet Beauregarde! Nice to meet you!” Wonka stepped back holding his cane towards her. “Away from the coat…” He paused and then smiled again. “Which of you is the least well dressed?”
They all stared around examining each other. Veruca spoke, “The fat boy has chocolate on him, the poor boy has his close all ripped and everyone else are just ‘ordinary’. Where as I am better dressed, more appropriate for a special occasion wouldn’t you say?”
Wonka nodded smiling still. He then screamed a very high pitched sound. The slight mumbling on the visitors disappeared as some tiny men began to walk towards them. They had extremely spiky hair, wore nothing but leaves and held sharp knives.
“What are they Father?” Asked Charlie.
“I’m not sure Charlie.”
Wonka’s pupils flickered to Mr. Bucket, then Veruca, and then the little men. “These are Oompa-Loompas. They were in my factory; they mix the chocolate, churn it up. You know this is the only factory in the world that mixes its chocolate by Oompa-Loompa.” He paused looking for some expressions. He then turned to the small man that stood before him.
“Take Miss Salt to the fish and chips shop. Slice her up into neat pieces. She told me her clothing was of the finest quality so that should do fine on the chips.”
The Oompa-Loompa nodded and grinned with sharp teeth. By this time Veruca’s father had become very protective.
“I DON’T WANT TO BE SALT ON CHIPS DADDY!” She screamed. His father stood in front of her with arms out, “I’ll make sure you won’t little pumpkin.”
Wonka yelped suddenly, “Oh, she’s a pumpkin is she? Well that changes everything!”
The father cried, Veruca screamed. “NO!”
The little men were pulling at the Father, and pushing away the British girl. The visitors were all looking in shock.
“If you fight it you’ll just be cut up here. You don’t want to be cut up in front of all of your friends now do you?”
“THEY’RE NOT MY FRIENDS! I DON’T EVEN KNOW THEM!”
“Of course you do. Your generation are the greedy, candy eating, drunken, party going characters, you KNOW everyone. And you all deserve to die.” He laughed maniacally as Mr. Bucket held Charlie close.
The father was pulled away and Veruca was shoved into a small metal room to the left of the group. The door closed loudly behind her.
On the door was a tiny peep hole, in minutes it was battered in red droop.
Mr. Willy Wonka smiled, “On with the tour.”
Augustus Gloop, the fat child had dropped his Wonka bar instantly and moved towards the front door. His mother turned, standing on the edge of an emotional cliff, balancing. Gloop began to hit the metal door asking to get out.
Wonka was still smiling, “I wonder why the police had no interest going into a building that was locked off for thousands of years and then suddenly asked some kids to come in… HAHAHAHAH…” His laughing was moving as he did down the long hallway. “I don’t even get a health inspector. I could be putting anything into my chocolate, and well… I am.”
Mr. Bucket looked at Charlie frightened as they stepped down a long winding carpet.
“Next question. Who likes gum?” Wonka had turned on one foot and was now facing the group.
Violet did not want to say anything, she was too frightened. “Oh come on Violet, I know it is you. It’s ok, I love gum as well, keeps you minty fresh.”
“But tell me Violet… do you like bubble gum?”
“Oh… well that is a shame.”
Violets mothers eyes widened scared of another question, answer trap. Wonka picked a tiny piece of gum out of his coat pocket and handed it to the young girl, who up until now was very loud.
“Chew it.” Wonka said smiling.
Violet did not respond, the gum sat in her hand.
So she did, placing it into her mouth and chewing slowly.
Wonka continued, “You know chewing is a bad habit.”
Mike Teavee breaks in, “If you don’t like gum why do you make it?”
Wonka cracked his neck and turned to the little boy, whose eyes were most certainly square. “Maybe a knife would open that mouth up a little hm, mumbling like that? Wait your turn.”
Violet was chewing, and as she did her stomach was inflating. “What’s happening?” screamed the mother.
“I didn’t like her. I only like Charlie.”
Violet was still inflating, getting larger and larger, and turning purple. “Violet, you’re turning Violet, Violet! Spit the gum out!”
“I can’t!” mumbled a fat faced little girl. “It’s sticky, sticking to my gums, stuck down my throat.
“Yep, it’s blowing a bubble backwards, instead of outwards it blows the bubble back down into your stomach. Neat, huh?” He smirked and continued to watch.
“WHAT DO WE DO? I CANT HAVE A BUBBLE AS A DAUGHTER!”
Wonka smiled, “its ok, I planned it all out.” He held up his cane again, shook it and watched a sharp needle seek out the end, apart of the cane.
He moved it towards the circular girl and pressed it into her stomach, there was a pop.
Mr. Bucket opened his eyes to see the room he once stood in was red. Drooping blobs of blood flopped down the walls and the visitors faces.
Mr. Wonka began to lick it from his lips and then smile. A body part was dribbling down Charlie’s shoulder. He creased his face up realising what had happened.
Violets mother had the most blood on her of course; she had elements of her daughters face stuck to her arms as well.
She was not screaming, just standing there.
“Who next?” Wonka grinned once again. “I am so full of invention and creation! I could go on all night. Too bad I’ve only got three children left to kill. Oh wait…”
He paused and walked to the helpless Augustus Gloop leaning against the front door. Wonka held out the cane and the needle stabbed into Gloop’s stomach. Unlike Violet a fountain of blood shot from his stomach. His legs weakened and he collapsed into the red puddle of liquid.
“Oh damn, I forgot that only works with bubbles. Now I’ve wasted a child. I was planning to drown him violently in my chocolate river. Who wants to see that?”
There was no answer.
“Ok, Teavee kid. You can go. I was planning to lock you in a blinding light for an hour and see if you came out same but I really need to get back to work. Plus the Oompa-Loompas are going to need to clean this room up. GOSH doesn’t it stink?”
Augustus was faintly choking to his death in the background.
The doors slowly opened and Mike Teavee and his Dad ran for their lives silent as they did. His father held him close as they made it to the gate. “Parents left! Apart from Mr. Bucket! You can all go!” The parents whose children were killed walked blankly out of the building.
Behind them the front doors of the factory closed once again with Charlie and his father inside, with Wonka.
“Climb son!” Mr. Teavee was pushing Mike up and over the gate as the paparazzi soared in to ask questions.
Inside Wonka stood silent still smiling towards Charlie and his dad. “I want you to live with me.” Wonka said, blood dripping from his ears.
Charlie shook his head.
“You can bring your family with you if you want. I’m fine with that.”
Charlie did nothing.
“You know, id feed you all the candy you want. See earlier on I was thinking… I’m getting rather old. I’ll need a good little boy to take over the factory when I’m gone. What do you say?”
Charlie turned away from Wonka and looked up to his Dad. “I don’t think he wants to Wonka.”
Wonka began to cry rapidly.
Charlie and his father looked over to the saddened man, the liquid tears cleaned off the blood on his face.
“I always wanted a son.” He said still crying.
“Well I’m not your son. I’m his,” Charlie said pointing towards his father.
Wonka turned up showing an evil smile, “Gosh…” All the tears seemed to have disappeared. “I should have realised before.”
He hit his head violently with the cane splattering loose blood as he did. “I just kill the father! Then I can MAKE you take over the Factory…”
Charlie felt horrible; his Father was scared, eyeing the blood puddles and bodies on the floor.
“What do you say Charlie? Should I kill your Dad?”
Charlie felt tears emerging from his eyes now, his thoughts disappeared. In trouble, when you are expected to answer, that is when your mind leaves you. “No… I’ll live with you. Just don’t hurt my dad.”
Wonka shot back to his ordinary smile. “All good! Now good sirs, how about some fizzy lifting drift to celebrate?”
Wonka handed the two of them a bottle each of bubbling liquid. “Drink up,” he said pouring a bottle down his throat.
Charlie did as he was told, as did his father.
The three of them lifted into the air. But Charlie and his father were not amazed, nor were they astonished… nor did they think this was a Milk an’ Smooth Delectable Slab.
Up above them was a fan, spinning at an amazing speed.
Wonka was giggling, “This is the fun bit guys! Just burp and you’ll go down to safety! You’ll see HOW FUN MY FACTORY REALLY IS!”His giggling was getting louder, but then disappeared when he burped his way back downwards a little.
Then the giggling returned.
Charlie and his father were not in the mood for giggling, they didn’t even notice the fan, or that they were floating.
The next day it was sent across the world that 5 more golden tickets would be hidden in 5 Wonka Bars across the world.
After the news stories from the visitors not many people ate his Wonka Bars. He went out of business and had to close down the factory.
The police found no evidence of mass murder, and or no bodies or evidence.
Wonka disappeared after that.
Some believe he his playing another character, creating candy under a false name. This could of course be possible as not many people had seen his current face.
Others say he died of old age.
By Nathan Viney and Roahl Dahl.