Mrs. Bucket frowned. She didn't know how that cup of hot-chocolate came here. She was so engaged in her work, writing letters to her gregarious girl friends, when that creamy smell and warmth caught her nose and swarmeda delectable sensation into her. She awkwardly smiled, but then gently picked it up with three fingers and closed her eyes as she drew the tase near her. There was no way she was going to just leave it there, no way no how. It was too beautiful to turnaway from, even though she's learnt throughout her whole life how she shouldn't come near to any strange taste but she's already relinquished to that sweet sweet cup of steaming chocolate by her side, not knowing anything but it's a cup of hot-chocolate, but it's not like it would have marijuana in it. She shut her eyes deeper and quietly purred as the liquid lapped against her lips. Delectably harmless.
A hat was shadowed outside the windowpane that she wasn't aware of. The hidden face smiled, flashing a simple glow of white from its luminent, somewhat fishy grin.
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"Thanks mum, the chocolate waffles were great!"
"Your welcome, Charlie dear! The syrup was freshly fetched this morning!"
She watched her son take his schoolbag and go, before tunring back to the rest of the family, lying in bed. She noticed something weird. The way they were all motionlessly staring at her. She ignored the two old couples and looked down at her kitchen work.
"Oh, well," she sighed. "Better send those lonely waffles and coffee to Willy. He's probably never had breakfast since forever." She picked up the tray and at the grandparents she winked. "Things are going to change now that we're here!"
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A soft knock sounded on Wonka's door. He was occupied in his work but still cried in his high, over-excited tone.
"S'open."
Mrs. Bucket appeared at his door, his back was facing her and he nearly knocked a glass down when he realized it was her after the second time he's whirled around.
"Oh, goodness," he said, half-wary, half-surprised. "It's you."
She smiled as she let her hand fall from the knob and approached him with the tray.
"Yes, it is me, Willy. Why seeming so surprised?"
"Oh, it's just... just uh..." Willy didn't whirl around completely when she first came. He only let his dumfounded face be revealed to her. But he seemed to be troubled and alert by each nearing step she took, skipping slightly to one side so tense, so horrifyed,and letting his arm stand in the way between her and his stuff on the counter he apparently didn't want her to see.
"Willy?" she raised an arm to him and he jumped aseverything liying in front of him was knocked down to the ground. His frightened eyes immediately turned from her to the crashing and banging noises, shrinking his body for protection.
Mrs. Bucket reacted passively, drawing her arm back. She most of the times didn't hold any comment to Wonka's upspringing behavior.
"Anyway, this tray - thisbreakfast is for you," she set the tray on the counter that was now spacious enough, her eyes frowning downwards. She turned them upwards until they locked his mortified, violet ones. She could sense the disturbance in them and bit her lip in sympathy.
"Watch yourself, Willy." That was her last comment before she left the room. Wonka still felt his body too stiff to move, and his mind was even worse at functioning again. He could only revolve his eyes in distracted pensiveness. A tug on his tail, and he swerved his head to his side. There was an oompa loopma staring up at him oddly. Wonka made an effor to light up a smile on his face. It gradually appeared but was still a distracted one and barely lit.
"Yeah?" he uttered soflty. The oompa loompa gestured somethingand Willy Wonka nodded and gulped. "Alright, I'll be there."
Wonka turned his head to the open door again when the oompa loompa left him. He parted his lips to release a deep, thoughtful sigh and walked away. He walked rather dryly with his cane that waved even more sourly. How can he mess up like that? It's not that he wasn't used to a family living with him, it was Mrs. Bucket. He thought, more irritated than hurt.
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"Mother?"
"Yes, dear?"
Mrs. Bucket answered the kind innocent tone absentmindedly. Her hands were plunged in the soapy water in the sink as she's done little motions at scrubbing dishes. Her face was staring towards the small window before her. The rest of the family were nibbling dinner in the quiet, bonded nature.
"Have you seen Mr. Wonka today?"
"Yes, I've seen him this morning at breakfast. He was working in his inventing room."
"Then he's probably still there," grumbled Grandpa George. Charlie ignored his grandfather and stared at his mother's back.
"Have you checked on him?"
Mrs. Bucket as if suddenly perturbed dropped the plate from her grip. "Checked on him, what do you mean checked on him?"
There was a sudden silence that echoed behind her, and she took a moment to tilt her head and face the family. Charlie was slightly dropping his jaw and Mr. Bucket's eyebrows were raised in a rather surprised, laughing expression. Her face softened and she shut her eyes with a silly apologetic giggle. "Sorry. Don't mind me. I've had such a funny day if you asked me."
"But you haven't seen anything yet!" exclaimed Charlie. "Ask me, I get to spend my whole evenings with Mr. Wonka!"
"Do you want some chocolate chips, Charlie?" Mrs. Bucket strangely interrupted. She was acting weird and the whole house could notice it, really clearly notice it. Charlie winced. Mrs. Bucket winced back.
"Alright, Charlie! I'll go check on him." She placed the plates of cookies in front of the family, took her shawl and left the house. No further comment.
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A cry sounded from the inventing room, followed by a crash. Mrs. Bucket could've hesitated before entering the room, but she intuitively threw herself in there.
"Willy what's happening she screamed!"
A pair of astonished eyes immediately fell on here.
"Mrs. Bucket!" Wonka grinned. "What a pleasant surprise!"
She straightened herself from her awkward position and looked at him wryly. Just this morning it wasn't like a pleasant surprise.
"No really," Wonka said, seemingly reading her thoughts. "Come forward, please!"
Mrs. Bucket took hesitant, faltering steps over to Mr. Wonka, who stood patiently watching her with his insane sinister grin. The surroundings were already dark and eerie to be calling for his grin. She reached the cheery chocolatier, and he led her to something that looked like a pool full of glowing water of various shades of wonderful pale colours. She was shocked at first but then she felt herself smiling delightedly because what flowed inside of her couldn't be restrained.
"What do you think?" rang out his soft, elated mutter from behind her. It was as if it belonged to a child, who still didn't lose the enthusiasm about being surprised at every single novel thing he discovered.
Mrs Bucket was not sure. But her eyes were gleaming fervently at the pond. "It's… it's magical!"
Wonka seemed to slack back in gratification. He was brilliant, why would he need a mere woman to be pleased of himself?
"I don't know what it is, but it's magical?"
Wonka inclined himself closer to her so that his stomach would be nearly brushing her back. "Want to know what it is?"
