Charlie 3: In 'His' Factory (Chapters 1-3) (SAMPLE)

This is an unofficial story penned by a huge fan. (Not the ceiling type).  It's a tribute to a writing hero. 

It completes the  trilogy and is the follow on from Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator. For more information, please message me.

Chapter 1

Charlie Bucket, along with his Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine, Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina, his mother and father (Mr and Mrs Bucket) and, of course, the eccentric but wonderful Mr Willy Wonka were flying above the fierce Atlantic waves at tremendous speed.

They were sitting in luxurious leather seats - but you wouldn't realise this from the expressions on their faces!

The choppy ride was causing them belly tickling and bottom belching problems of the highest order. Even Mr Wonka had a look of panic printed on his ageing face:

Charlie's face was as white as snow and all eight passengers were vibrating at an extraordinary rate.

'This helicopter ride isn't much fun,' moaned Mr Bucket suddenly, with a shaky voice. 'I feel terribly giddy. My belly's going up and down like an out of control elevator!'

'The thrill and excitement of the incredible Great Glass Elevator was nothing compared to this crazy chopper,' mumbled Charlie.

Mr Wonka sat in silence. He had one of the window seats and was staring vacantly at the fluffy cumulus clouds that were hovering above as they whizzed and whooshed faster still.

'I hope the president has laid on a feast,' said Grandma Josephine, in a hopeful tone.

Mrs Bucket looked glum. Grandma Georgina sucked her wrinkly old thumb. Grandpa George started complaining about... his bum!

'At least we have these enormous earmuffs to drown out that terrible piercing noise,' Grandpa Joe butted in. Then he gently raised the muff from his left ear. The sound that shot through his body was incredible: just like the world's squeakist bus brakes! He began to shake even more violently and immediately snapped it back on! 

'These posh and fancy seats are nice to look at, but after a while they start to turn your bum numb. I can hardly feel my backside now,' grumbled Grandpa George.

Mr Wonka was in deep thought. Charlie was too. And, even though the other family members were moaning and groaning, nobody else on-board could hear a single word they said!

Powerful sunrays penetrated through the aircraft's windows and everybody on-board (including the pilots) had their eyes squinted.

'I do wish we could have flown to the USA by Concorde,' grunted Mr Bucket. 'We'd have been there by now.' But once more, he was only talking to himself.

All of sudden the bright red helicopter began to stutter and shudder and shake. And then it appeared to slowly... brake!

Charlie gulped.

Mr Wonka smiled.

Charlie gulped again.

Everyone else closed their eyes tightly and hoped for the best. 

Had they hit an air pocket? Was there a fault with the chopper? Perhaps one of the propellers was failing or a gang of gruesome geese were attacking the metal shell?

Charlie gulped a third time.

Mr Wonka continued to smile as he stared away out of the little round glass pane.

Grandma Josephine and Grandma Georgina began to sob. Mrs Bucket joined them. 

'Stop! Halt! Rewind! We've had enough of this, I think you will find,' shouted Mr Wonka at the top of his voice.

But nobody heard a single syllable.

Thankfully, the shuddering and shaking ceased, but Mr Wonka had finally become alive inside the helicopter.

 "Excuse me, Sir. Driver. Pilot of the Air,' went on Mr Wonka, somehow calmly whilst he poked the pilot on his right shoulder.

The pilot ignored him.

Mr Wonka poked again. He poked and prodded and even flicked his hairy neck!

'What is it?' replied the pilot, faintly, over the top of the now declining shrill drone.

'I. No, correct that. We all agree - at least I think we do - that we've had just about enough of this silly ride. We want you to kindly turn around and take us back home!'

'Home?'

'Yes, home. Back to the Chocolate Factory. And make it snappy!'

'But Mr Wonka, what about President Gilligrass? The White House is preparing to welcome your entire crew. A huge party with cocktails is being organised and special medals for each of you are being engraved as we speak!'

'Well they will have to phone, write or send us a new invitation by pigeon for another date. They can arrange a brand spanking new appointment. And next time, send over some proper transport. I quite fancy balloon travel!'

'But what about the president's Fudgemallow Delights? He'll be expecting those too! He sounded awfully excited, like a small child at Christmas when I told him they were soon to fill his belly. He'll be terribly disappointed.'

Mr Wonka wiggled his nose. Then he scratched the top of his head. His hair was rather sweaty and also little stinky by now due to the heat inside the helicopter. Thankfully he had removed his hat before take-off or his head may well have roasted.

'Use your loaf guys. Or your buns or baguettes. After you've dropped us back, you can still fly off to your home with the president's chocolate!'

The co-pilot stared at the pilot confusingly. The pilot glanced back with a dumbfounded expression on his egg-shaped face.

'Oh, yes. Good idea!'

The pilot immediately radioed headquarters whilst turning the chopper around. 

'What's happening, Turner?' asked the co-pilot loudly.

'We're heading back to the Chocolate Factory! That's what is happening, co-pilot Round,' replied pilot Turner.

After a short sign language conversation and some faint mumbling in the back of the aircraft, the Bucket family understood what was taking place. All bar Grandma Georgina seemed delighted. 'I was very much looking forward to meeting the president and trying a jumbo hamburger with fries,' she moaned. 'Apparently the world's biggest burgers come from America. They're supposed to be real whoppers!'

It was only two and a half hours since the enthusiasm of visiting the White House as guests of honour had erupted, but it felt like weeks. And Charlie in particular was grateful to be returning to good old England and his Chocolate Factory. He had plenty of marvellous ideas brewing and couldn't wait to get cracking! But, oh no...

'Was that you?' yelled Mr Bucket, rudely.

Grandma Josephine couldn't contain her giggles and Grandpa Joe shook his head.

'Whose whoopee cushion was that?' asked Mr Wonka.

All of a sudden, the bright red helicopter began its descent inside the tall metal gates of the Chocolate Factory. But, although it was a dry and sunny aftrrnoon, it was far from being a smooth landing!

As it slowly lowered, a splutter and a burping sound took place. And the entire aircraft was surrounded by a plume of red, white and blue. The colours mingled together and were strong enough to blind the pilot from the landing spot.

'Where's that smoke coming from?' cried Mrs Bucket. But the noise was so ferocious that nobody detected a single word.

In fact the noise became so ear-popping that the Bucket family covered their earmuffs that were covering their ears with their hands! But Mr Wonka remained as still and calm as a cat in front of a cosy winter fireplace.

Next there was a sudden jolt and a screeching wobble. Then the chopper hit an uneven bobble.

Screeeeech!

Watery eyes and no doubt nervous insides were being experienced on-board. Until, finally...

'We have touched down!' delighted co-pilot Round. 

The cloud of red, white and blue started to rise higher and higher into the atmosphere. And all was soon revealed.

'Wow! What a tremendous sight!' thrilled Grandpa Joe, this time his voice as clear as crystal.

'It's fantastic!' gasped Grandma Josephine.

'Mind blowing!' gurgled Mr Bucket.

The whole family were clambering around the tiny windows and peering out eagerly: Up in the sky - almost directly above - in spectacular fashion formed the fabulous Stars and Stripes flag of the United States of America!

'That's it folks. We have landed with superb safety.'

'Superb safety?' scoffed Mrs Bucket. 'You call that a safe landing?'

 'If that's a safe one, I'd hate to experience a bad one,' snorted Mr Bucket.

Mr Wonka clapped his hands together. Charlie smiled. It was a great big banana smile that almost reached from ear to ear. He was home and ready to enter his Chocolate Factory. 

'Mrs Bucket, sweetie - if we hadn't landed good and instead had landed bad, then as the president's chief pilot I 'd have turned extremely mad,' responded pilot Turner.

As the Bucket's prepared to exit one by one, Grandpa George again complained about his bum!

Co-pilot Round turned around to face the Buckets and grinned. His teeth were as filthy as can be. All black and chipped with pieces of cornflake and bacon and strips of celery visible. Grandma Georgina, Grandpa George, Grandma Josephine and Mrs Bucket gasped at the beastly sight.

'Did your eyes feast on that amazing colourful blob that formed when we landed?' asked co-pilot Round proudly, his terrible teeth causing the gang to gurn grotesquely. 'That was the flag of our magnificent country. Whenever we land we leave a marker. Those stars and Stripes float off into space; the concept is outstandingly ace!'

'Can we get out now, please, Sir?' asked Charlie, politely. And without further hesitation, pilot Turner pushed a triangular orange button on his control panel. After a robotic rev and a piercing whistle, the door slowly raised.

Off the Bucket's struggled into the sun - Grandpa George still complaining about his bum!  'Those seats are deceiving. Twenty years in bed and not a bout of bum numbness. But a few hours in that expensive leather thingy and I feel as strange as a bald man in a barber shop.'

Mr Wonka remained inside the helicopter. He was in deep thought once more.

'Are you coming?' asked Charlie. He hoped his best friend would soon be showing him the ropes and sharing his top-secret recipes.

Achooooo!

Achooooo!

At-cher-oooooooooo!

Mr Wonka jumped back into his seat and then sprang forwards onto the ground below. 'I'm sorry Charlie. Of course I'm coming. We have a titchy teeny wobbly weeny amount of time and not much to learn!'

Charlie's eyebrows twitched and his jaw lowered.

'I just had to eject that mucus build up. The pressure was incredible. It was one of my storm sneezes! I release them from time to time, and I think you will find that they're not very kind...'

Charlie stated at the chocolate master - his mouth hanging open like a goldfish whilst the rest of the Bucket family impatiently huddled beside the famous factory doors.

'What's a storm sneeze?' quizzed Charlie, lost in his thoughts.

'A storm sneeze, my boy, is a wonderful joy! When one is created... Hush. Wait... Listen...

Charlie's ears pricked up immediately. Suddenly, a rumbling sound invaded the skies above. Another rumble joined in. And another as the clouds became the dullest grey imaginable.

'Come on, let's hop quickly, it's going to pour any mo...' said Mr Wonka. 'Cheerio Turner. Cheerio Round. And don't forget to inform President Grassygills to contact Charlie and re-schedule.'

Charlie grabbed Mr Wonka's hand tight and together they hopped towards the factory as the chopper fired up its engine in the rain.

As the Bucket's waved, the helicopter hovered above the concrete and with a fiendish flash - away it swirled. 

For a few seconds there was a sea of disappointed at what might have been, but that shortly evaporated. 

'I'm starving!' Grandma Georgina moaned.

'My tummy's gurgling!' Grandma Josephine groaned.

'My hair's liquidated!' angered Mr Bucket.

'Be patient. Hold your horses. Tickle the tiger. Patience is bliss; far too many give it a miss,' muttered Mr Wonka as he rummaged about inside one of his velvet coat pockets. 'A-ha! Here it is. Now, welcome home everybody!' 

And with that, using a long rusty key, the door squeaked open and in they all dashed. 

'Ahhhhhh! What's tha-tha-thaaaaat?' screamed Grandma Josephine...

'That, Dragon Breath, is my Marvellous Memory Machine,' replied Mr Wonka. 'It really is a classy piece of engineering.'

'Not that!' shrieked Grandma Josephine, pointing at the strange-looking gadget fixed to the ceiling. 'What is thaaaaaat?'

A plump creature the length of a spaghetti strand wriggled through a large crack in the wall.

'I shall have to get some keys cut,' replied Mr Wonka, ignoring her concern. 'This one is wearing away like a tooth being attacked by nasty decay.'

'Perhaps we can invent chocolate keys,' said Charlie, enthusiastically. 

'Hmmmmm. I've never thought about that,' replied Mr Wonka. 'That sounds like a possible area we could open. Yes, I've got it now! Chocolate keys for those with forgetfulness: gobble it up after locking your door, and search for your misplaced key no more!'

'But how will they get back in?' asked Charlie, confused.

'Oh well. That's why you are the boss now, and I'm just a helper. That's if you still require my services, of course?' 

'I'll think about it,' giggled Charlie. He adored the great man with all his heart.

'How about a feast?' Mr Wonka suddenly shouted, with the Bucket family standing only yards away.

'Yes, it's about time. My belly's complaining like crazy,' replied Grandma Georgina impatiently, patting her frail abdominals. 

'My dear woman. Waiting can be fun, enjoy it - don't shun. I think you're going to love this...'

And with that, he clicked his fingers and ten oompa loompas darted into reception from different directions. Mr Wonka made some energetic signals with his hands and the oompa loompas started to sing:

The Banquet Song

When your tum rumbles away

Sit down - let those taste buds play!

Bin the bland and boring snack,

Bring true meal excitement back!

Munch on lots of tasty food

Gobble fast - you won't be rude!

Squid Baguettes, Seaweed Delight

Worm Curries that give a fright!

Popping Gas Cakes, Bat Poop Pie,

Greyhound Hotdogs - my on my!

What a joy - you'll fall in love

With our belly bursting grub!

Fried Sardines with Bacon Rice

Stinging Nettles with Grilled Mice!

Spider Sausages, Skunk Rears

Butterfly Spread, Rhino Ears!

Each gob-ful is yummy yum

As it whooshes to your tum,

But beware, later, the... BUM!

'Come now, follow me,' shrilled Mr Wonka as he skipped down a narrow, windy corridor that appeared to go on forever.

'Where is he taking us, Charlie?' asked Mrs Bucket, her forehead turning more wrinkled by the second. 

Charlie shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know, but it's bound to be fun!' 

The Bucket gang trailed the chocolate genius in single file, with the colourful walls seemingly growing thinner. 'Do please hurry!' shouted the great man as he danced on.

Flowery patterns were painted on both sides - the ceiling too. The floor was sky blue with frothy waves blended in. It looked as if they were walking on water!

'The smell is beautiful,' blurted Grandma Josephine. 'Just like Kew Gardens!'

'Please get a wriggle on, or when we arrive, the best stuff will be gone,' grumbled Mr Wonka.

Grandma Georgina and Grandpa George were flagging at the back of the line.'It's alright for him. He's decades younger than us. My legs feel all wibbly and wobbly,' moaned the old boy.

Charlie was within grabbing distance of Mr Wonka's coat tails and grinning like a Cheshire cat.

'I presume we are heading towards a canteen of some sort?' Mr Bucket called out. Mr Wonka coughed. 'Because we do need feeding.' Mr Wonka coughed again. Then he began to whistle! 'I do hope there's plenty to go round. I could eat a horse!'

'Three, two, one,' mumbled Mr Wonka. And with that, he came to a complete halt. 'We are here!' he shouted as he turned to face the Buckets, clapping his hands so forcefully that tiny sparks materialised. A delayed voice pierced the atmosphere and echoed to the far end of the corridor where the four old ones were huffing and puffing frantically.

'My ears are popping!' cried Grandma Georgina.

'Mine have burst!' groaned Grandma Josephine.

'I bet you couldn't eat a horse,' said Mr Wonka, staring directly into the bulging eyes of Mr Bucket, who was by now standing inches in front of him. 'I'll give you whatever odds you wish that you cannot eat a horse. I bet you can't do it.' Mr Bucket's eyebrows fluffed up and fixed to the top of his forehead. They looked like a pair of squashed caterpillars.

'But, if you complete the course, you will face frightful remorse. A chap in Luxembourg did it, apparently. Had the trots for days. Poor feller... I must label these keys properly,' he rambled while searching for a particular one. 'I've heard they're much bigger close up than you think. So I'd avoid it if I were you, sir!'

'Where are we actually going, Mr Wonka?' asked Charlie.

'Through this door to fill each tummy with things that taste wild and scrummy.'

'But there isn't a door here,' went on Charlie, baffled. 'It's just a padlock sketched onto a tulip petal!'

'Dear boy, you should know me a little better by now. Things aren't always how they seem; life is but a prolonged dream!'

Charlie pulled another of his brilliant banana smiles. 

'If there is no door, then we shall create one. I am the creator of dreams. At least, I was when I ran this place. Oh well, we will see...' And with that, Mr Willy Wonka inserted a short, bumpy brass key into the padlock and turned it anti-clockwise. 

Charlie gasped.

Mr and Mrs Bucket rubbed their eyes vigorously - followed by their bellies!

'Before we begin work, we must eat. And then we'll need a few cheeky winks of sleep,' said Mr Wonka with a sparkle in his eyes.  But what happened next surprised even Charlie, who was used to unusual occurences and situations: the pink petal, along with its stem and leaves and many of its neighbouring flowers slowly... swept open! Charlie's face lote up like a powerful torch at the sight which greeted him. 'This, my dear friends, is my Fast Food Delivery Room, also known as the Banquet Room.'

Mr and Mrs Bucket, Grandma Georgina and Grandpa George, Grandma Josephine and Grandpa Joe gathered outside the doorway goggle-eyed. Each of their mouths hung open in wonder as they admired the peculiar sight.

'I keep this camouflaged for privacy reasons. The root of bad manners is nosiness, and this area behind my flowery friends certainly keeps nose twitchers away.'

'Look at all that delicious grub!' Mr Bucket thrilled, with a trickle of saliva weaving down his chin.

'Feast your eyes on that, George!' chipped Grandma Georgina as her beady eyes focused on a ginormous crispy chicken.

'My Fast Food Delivery Table is unique. Not only does it have... seven,, eight, twelve... fourteen legs, it also has built-in conveyor belts.'

Lips were being licked rapidly as the waft of tender meat and roast vegetables billowed gratefully up nostrils. 'Are the belts,' said Charlie, 'for removing the dirty dishes?'

'No, no, nopey no. No, no, no. My dear boy, these belts are specially designed to whizz whatever tray you wish towards your plate! There's no arm-stretching at this dinner table.' A relay of lengthy gasps escaped as Mr Wonka continued, 'gallons of oompa loompa sweat, plus a few other revolting bits and pieces, were spent manufacturing this masterpiece.'

'Can we tuck in? My throat thinks my stomach's been cut!' grunted Grandma Josephine, her nostrils blowing up like a balloon.

'You mean your stomach thinks your throat's been cut,' replied Grandpa Joe sarcastically.

'Oh, I am terribly sorry, Joe. I didn't realise the Cliche Police were on patrol. Anyway, I often get my words and phrases and bears and places jingled up when I'm hungry. And...'

'Please, my tummy rumbling chums, nip all this whining in the bud!' interrupted Mr Wonka, annoyed. 'This is where I hold special meatings, and, yes - there certainly is a lot of meat in here today. So dive in, park your rumps and load your osophogus with...'

And with that there was a boisterous bustle as the Bucket family shot into the Banquet Room like bullets from a gun. Their legs charged so fast that flashes of silver light were clearly visible - which caused Mr Wonka to whip out his notepad and, in golden ink, pen: BOTTOM POWER FOR LAZY NINKENPOOPS and, MUST REMEMBER: A RUDE RHYME ABOUT THOSE WHO PICK THEIR NOSE WHILE READING...