So, I was watching Willy Wonka, when I suddenly thought, what if he had a wife, and she came out of the factory? The only person ever to come out or in. Wouldn't that be fun? I hope so, here's hoping you like it It's just a drabble of sorts. It`s set before the Golden ticket thing. No flames, but please review.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything relating to Charlie and the Chocolate factory.
Charlie Bucket sat, admiring his handiwork, he had finally done it, had finally finished his chocolate factory. All he needed now was a head for Willy Wonka, the most famous choclatier in the world. Without looking, he could already predict that his mother was cooking cabbage stew, which they had every night, and that his grandparents were muttering amongst themselves. First were Grandpa Joe, who was by far his favourite (which he only admitted in secret, of course) and his wife, Grandma Josephine, who was smart, and quiet, like himself. Then Grandpa George, who had a bitter tinge along with old age, and his dotty wife Grandma Georgina, who was smiley and happy all the time.
Charlie loved listening to them talk, sometimes they told stories of their youth, like Grandpa George's first car ride, or of their dreams, as Grandma Josephine's was to own a coin operated laundry shop. But the thing he loved listening about the most was Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory.
Charlie sighed, inhaling the bitter smell of cabbage. He carefully picked up his toothpaste-cap factory and carried it over to the bed where his grandparent's resided.
"Look, look, it's almost finished. All I need now is a head for Mr. Wonka," Charlie exclaimed, setting on Grandma Georgina's legs.
"Yes, yes. How can you be sure it even looks like him?" Grandpa Joe remarked, "You've never even seen him before Charlie, none of us have."
Charlie blinked, and looked down at his headless model, trying not to take his grandfather's words to heart.
"I have," Grandpa Joe said defensively, "I used to work for him, don't you know."
Charlie perked up, and kneeled by his oldest Grandpa. "Really?"
"Of course."
"What was he like?" Charlie asked, imagining the man, did his toothpaste-cap figure look like him? Did he have tall legs and short arms? Was he even tall to begin with? Perhaps he was short, shorter than himself, perhaps –
"He was brilliant. He invented things, chocolate that most people couldn't even begin to dream up. He once invented a candy that changed colors and flavours according to the day of the week. He invented a chocolate that tasted like milk and cookie, a gum that when blown into a bubble, could make you hover a few inches off the ground," Grandpa Joe recited, smiling fondly at his memories. "He was a genius."
"What did he look like? Did he look like my statue?" Charlie asked, motioning towards his creation.
"Almost exactly so. He was tall, and pale, with the most peculiar violet colour for eyes. I'd never seen anything like them in my life," Charlie hung on his every word.
"What was the best candy he ever invented?" Charlie asked, imagining the best of the best. It must have been magnificent. "Was it candy? Chewing gum? Gobstoppers? Or was it chocolate?"
"It was a flower," Grandma Josephine answered.
"A flower? Was it edible?" Charlie asked, tilting his head slightly to the left.
"Of course it was edible," Grandpa George muttered under his breath, pulling the blanket up.
Charlie ignored him, and fixed his eyes on Grandpa Joe. "It was only released once a year, it was made of the most delicious chocolate fudge you could ever imagine. The stem was made of thin chocolate, the petals of fudge and the leaves of white chocolate."
"But ... Grandpa, why was it only sold once a year?" Charlie asked. "Surely if it was the best...?"
"It was released on Willy Wonka's wife, Petunia Wonka's birthday. It was shaped like a Petunia. Tuney, I believe, she's called." The elder man replied. "She loved his fudge, so he made it for him, made it only on her birthday, January fourth."
Charlie was silent, thinking of this new bit of information. Willy Wonka had a wife. But...
"Is she the woman that comes out of the factory?" He asked, remembering a tall figure cloaked in a long, red coat trailing out of the factory gates, oblivious to the gawking stares of everyone around her.
"Yes. Tuney Wonka is the only thing, besides the chocolate that ever comes out of that factory," Grandpa Joe said, squinting his half-blind eyes.
"Was she beautiful?" He asked, almost shyly.
Grandpa Joe smiled. "Yes. She had more than her fair share of good looks. She used to live in town you know, Petunia Emerson. Your father went to school with her."
"He never mentioned it," Charlie whispered.
"You've never asked," A voice said back, and Charlie turned, to see his dad standing in the doorway. He smiled, and hugged his father, before returning to his grandparent's bedside.
"What was she like dad?" Charlie asked.
"She was normal. Babbled constantly, never stopped talking. She was picked on in school, by older, cooler girls. Petunia was always rather... Peculiar," His dad replied.
"What did she look like?" his son asked.
"She was always tall, even when she was very young, and thin, always bone thin, never an ounce of fat on her. She had a small scar above her lip, where she was cut on the sidewalk when an older girl pushed her. Her hair was pretty, long and shiny. She had a head of cherubic blonde curls, the kind of wild ones women never want. She had small eyes, that seemed forever scared, the color of dark chocolate, I had a crush on her in seventh grade," His father smiled slightly, remembering.
"Wow. How did she and Mr. Wonka meet?" Charlie asked.
"Nobody knows, she disappeared after graduation, and reappeared, no longer Petunia Emerson, but Tuney Wonka. No one ever asked Mr. Wonka."
"Wow. So it`s a mystery."
"Indeed."
"Did you ever meet her?" Charlie asked his other grandparents.
Grandpa George shook his head, and so did Grandma Georgina, but Grandma Josephine nodded.
"Was she like you expected?" He asked, staring at the woman.
"Exactly. Everyone knew the wife of Willy Wonka would be strange, most weren't surprised it was Tuney. She had a soft voice, I remember, the kind that belongs with little girls and pink bubblegum."
"Anything else?"
"No Charlie, I'm afraid not. It was such a long time ago. Maybe one day, you'll have to meet her yourself."
"Maybe..." Charlie trailed off. He left the bedside, picked up his model, and set it on the table. He retrieved the bag of spare toothpaste-caps from the cupboard, and stuck a few together, forming a single leg next to Mr. Wonka.
"What are you doing Charlie? Who's that?" His mother asked over her chopping noises.
"Tuney Wonka. The choclatier wife."