Charlie 3: Chapters 6 & 7

Charlie's knees wobbled and his lips trembled as he followed Mr Wonka further and further along the light-less passage. 

'I do wish one of the oompa loompas would replace these blown bulbs,' mumbled the chocolate maestro suddenly. 'This stretch gets darker and darker every night I wander through it.'

The corridor may have been narrow and bendy but strangely - the ceiling was extremely low! Anyone over six foot in height would have an aching neck.

With eyes widened, Charlie plodded on cautiously. The strange growling grew louder still. A heart could be heard pounding which led to his hands shaking like leaves in a storm. 

'Relax my boy, don't be afraid of the dark. There aren't any ghoulies or beasties or sharp toothed blood feasties down here.  I won't put up with that nonsense,' said Mr Wonka in a reassuring tone. 'But I must ask for some pretty light but not-so-bright bulbs to be plugged in.'

The darkness alone would cause many hairs to stand on many heads; perhaps on arms and necks and around nipples too. But the eerie sound - the groaning growl - and its new partners: crunching and munching and manic rustling caused little Charlie Bucket to plead with a stutter, 'M-r W-W-W-o-n-n-k-a-a-a-a, w-w-what i-i-i-s-s-s th-th-th-a-a-a-t n-n-n-ois-s-s-e?' His words bounced through the atmosphere like crazy kangaroos with itchy feet.

Mr Wonka didn't reply. 

The crunching grew even louder.

The munching sped up!

The rustling ceased.

'Here we are, this is your room,' mumbled Mr Wonka, fumbling about for the knob. Being almost pitch black it was a miracle he could find the door. 'Here we go...' And the door squeaked open allowing a fabulous waft to flow from the darkness. It was a combination of candy-floss and marzipan and doughnuts filled with strawberry jam! 'That's much better,' he delighted, tugging the light cord.

What a magical sight greeted Charlie's heavy eyes: the water bed looked incredible. Soft and relaxing as its surface gently  bobbed up and down like peaceful ocean waves. 'This starts the fan,' Mr Wonka instructed, his right hand calmly tapping a big brown button. 'And these round blobs below control its speed. But remember: the faster it goes - the colder your toes!'

The round blobs - yellow in colour - were numbred from one to ten, and a larger blue blob with a squiggled snowman sat at the end of the row.

'What does the snowman blob do?' asked Charlie.

'Oh, ignore that. I wouldn't risk pushing the snownan. That's for emergencies! Feel free to help yourself to anything you want from the cabinet though.'

There stood a tall, grey metallic unit with a glass fronted door next to an empty laundry basket. The unit wore a label which boldly read: WONKA WONDERS. 'Candy-floss, candycanes, creamy chocolate aeroplanes! Snack on whatever you like, be it morning, noon or night. Enjoy your rest and tomorrow we'll start work. Your first full day as boss will begin!' 

Away Mr Wonka wandered, and, as Charlie kicked off his shoes to lay on his bed, many thoughts flashed through his head. Well, they must have done.

That night, he decided to sleep with the light on. With his new bedroom containing not a single window, there wasn't even a speck of moonbeam to illuminate it. The strange noises, which were, somewhere, not so far away - remained. And with the powerful rays glowing fiercly, Charlie squinted his eyes and then - they slammed shut. Fully.

The soon-to-be Chocolate Factory owner was in the land of nod; with his bedroom door not only unlocked, but ajar...

'By golly grape pops, my fluffy bed socks, chocolate chickenpox! You silly boy! What have you done?' screamed Mr Wonka, bursting into Charlie's bedroom. 'My dear boy, I did warn you!'

The sight that faced him caused his eyes to bulge and his eyebrows to jiggle. Charlie was lying motionless on the great big waterbed - his eyes fixed open as wide as a mouth in the dentist's chair; the rest of his body as frozen as a big block of ice. The giant fan attached to the ceiling was whizzing round and round with such frantic speed that it was almost invisible to the human eye. And it blew Mr Wonka's hat off his head!

'I'm so sorry,' apologised Charlie with a gush of guilt raging from his lips. 'The temptation was too much for me.' 

His face was as white as a clean pair of underpants and his hair was blowing about frenetically. It was lucky to still be attached to his scalp! Mr Wonka held his chin in his right hand and studied Charlie from afar. 'Hmmm, well, at least you've been honest. I like honesty. Honesty is one of the best policies in the chocolate world, especially for inventors. If one titchy tiny, teeny weeny aspect of creation is not quite right, then being honest saves us all little time in the short jump.'

Charlie gulped. 'I can move my eyelids and ears and nose. And mouth contents. But below my head, my body is stuck to the bed. It feels like I've been glued to the sheet!'

'Oh gargly gosh; oh willy wash; satsuma squash!' shouted Mr Wonka. And then he smacked the snowman button on the wall. 

The fan slowed and hair no longer blowed. After ten seconds it had stopped completely. 'That can be lethal. It's lucky you didn't lock your door. You might have been trapped until summer. A human snowman you'd have turned into.'

'I'm freezing;; I can't feel a thing down below.'

'Don't worry. Luckily I keep a supply of Snowman Suncream in the Wonka Wonders cabinet. That'll help you defrost.'

The hat-less former factory boss skipped over to the Wonka Wonders unit and whipped out a small toothpaste-style tube which read: SUNCREAM FOR STIFF SNOWMEN (AND WOMEN). RUB IN GENEROUSLY TO FROZEN PARTS AND WATCH THE STIFFNESS MELT AWAY LIKE BUTTER ON A SUNNY DAY.

'Blimey, it's awfully chilly in here,' he rasped, uscrewing the cap. 'But a least the snowman treatment test can hinder a troublesome guest. You have trialled the design wonderfully.'

'Mr Wonka,' said Charlie. 'I've been thinking about something for the past few hours. Something I believe could be super special. A new idea.'

Mr Wonka's eyes lit up like candles as he rubbed a squidge of the snowman cream into Charlie's frozen feet. 

'Shall I explain, or should I wait until you've unfrozen me?'

'Why don't you tell me over breakfast. I've sent room service to your grandparents, and I've been informed that your mother and father are busy - mopping up. Late night room hopping is always risky!'

Charlie smiled. But this smile was not his fabulous banana type. Instead, it was a trampoline smile: his lips wobbled up and down due to the arctic air surrounding them.

'When I'm done, take a quick shower and in half an hour we'll eat and chat. I do hope there are snails left in the store room. I shelled out a tonne of dough for them. Crunchy, slimy, squishy snails are scrumptious - and very good at slowing down stress levels.'

Charlie's wobbles worsened.

'Oh, and by the way - do try the new Wonka Cleaning Gel,' added Mr Wonka as he carried on unstiffening. 'It's the most remarkable stuff.'

What's so special about it?' trembled Charlie.