Why must I try with the disclaimers? General rule: I own everything you don't recognize. If you don't recognize any of it...then, to you, I own everything.

Just trust me.

Charlie Bucket was beginning to severely rethink this entire plan. The thought was so prominent that the entire previous sentence made absolutely no sense whatsoever. However, that was not the point. The point, in fact, was jabbing painfully into his brain, and that was:

"This is not going to work."

He did not look at his "partner-in-crime," yet he could feel the unnerving, azure-blue stare of the aforementioned person drill a pinpointed hole in his skull. Charlie knew right then he'd made a mistake.

"Do you doubt me?" Willy Wonka asked in a singsong voice, which, at any other moment but this one, would not have scared Charlie quite as much as it did just then. "I assure you, dear boy, this plan is going to work."

The plan, actually, was to go to Loompaland, where Willy, under a very smug umbrella of "I-Told-You-So's," will do just that; declare to the entire world, "I told you so."

Charlie's mother had been very reluctant to agree on letting Willy drag her son with him. Charlie's father, however, thought the idea fantastic, much to everyone's astonishment.

In the midst of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's slight quarrel after Mr. Bucket's declaration that he'd let Charlie go, Willy had pulled Charlie outside to speak to him privately on the matter.

"I think they will see the importance in this situation soon enough," Willy had said, tugging on the hem of his tailcoat and dusting his right sleeve off. He started to walk at a slow pace towards the Chocolate Fall, waving an airy hand for the younger boy to follow him.

"Mr. Wonka," Charlie had spoken up quietly, matching his pace (not his stride, for Wonka's was much greater) with Willy's. "I really think you should consider the possibility that…perhaps Loompaland doesn't exist."

"Rubbish!" Willy exclaimed, stopping in his tracks and gawking at the boy as if he had just suspected the chocolatier to be criminally insane. "Absolutely…dreadful thought, Charlie. I, myself, have visited the lovely place that is Loompaland, so I must put an end to whatever nonsense you're currently pulling out of your—"

"I'm just saying," Charlie interrupted, knowing fully aware of how that phrase went and knowing he didn't wish to hear it come out of Willy's mouth, "that maybe you went to some other place, thinking it was Loompaland."

There was a rather uncomfortable silence between the two; Charlie could've sworn for a second that Willy had stopped breathing. The thought, however, was dashed when the chocolatier's mouth formed a very large, nearly-fake smile. "We'll just see how wrong you are, dear child!"

And he proceeded to make a sharp left turn…running right into the transparent door of the glass elevator.

Charlie, who had been zoning out uncharacteristically to the recollection of this event, let out a soft chuckle.

Willy's gaze snapped back to him, yet he was unaware of the fact that he was gripping the arms of the airplane seat painfully hard. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Aren't you afraid of airplanes, Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked, changing the subject with his childlike innocence.

Willy looked from left to right; after all, there was a great chance someone was listening to their every word as they spoke, and the minute the plane landed, this person would obviously go and gab to the press about Willy Wonka's fear of airplanes, clearly intent on pulling some random gesture of revenge on the chocolate tycoon.

"Of course not!" Wonka hissed, yet Charlie could tell he was lying through his pearly-white teeth.

Charlie shook his head, grinning, and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.