Disclaimer: I don't own Wonka or his kin. Also, I don't own any of the weird 70s references.

If you don't catch the references to Monty Python and Saturday Night Fever, you probably have more of a life than I do.

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The glass elevator settled itself back into its perch back at the chocolate factory, and a disappointed Willy Wonka stepped out, slightly gloomy after being forced to leave the Bucket home without the boy he thought would become his heir. Pouting a little, he made his way into his "office" (a room including a ball pit such as those found at fast food restaurants, a fountain spouting water that kept changing color, and a tiny replica of Hershey Park made of charred figurines) to sit down for a minute and think.

Wonka sat in a little stool on wheels sitting near the room's entrance, and, because he needed to concentrate, began spinning himself on the chair as fast as he could. "Whee-ee!" He squealed as he increased the speed of his dizzying lifun. The Oompa Loompas wandering past the door in the hallway continued to go about what they were doing, treating Wonka's squeals of delight as perfectly normal.

Inside, Willy Wonka tried to meditate as he whirled himself in circles continually. Charlie Bucket had turned down his offer. Which was...weird. So now he didn't have an heir. Which was...weird. So now what?

He didn't want to go back to the Bucket house. Everything there was icky and dirty and there were old people...not a very creative environment, if he did say so himself. Besides, the little boy had already said he wasn't coming to the factory without everyone else in his family. Which meant stinky old people and funny smells. And Charlie's...(gag)...erm...mom and dad.

So where did that leave him? He had chosen the least rotten little kid to run his factory, and he'd turned him down. So what should he do next? He could send out more tickets...but that would mean more children running around the factory, getting their grubby, sticky little fingers in all the candy. Ew. Even as he whirled himself around in his rolly chair, Willy Wonka shuddered at the thought.

He could choose between the other four children. If they weren't too mad about their little mishaps at the factory. Hmm...there was the fat one, the blue one, the bad nut, and the tall one. But which one was the least rotten?

Hmm...the fat one. He seemed to like candy a lot. A little too much, granted, but he did seem enthusiastic about the factory. He would probably know best out of all the children what chocolates were best and what flavors were good, since it seemed like he had some...erm...experience with the subject. And he probably wouldn't mind acting as a guinea pig for some of the experimental candies. The kid would probably just pop the candy into his mouth without thinking, saving some of the Oompa Loompas from some anguish.

But then there was his whole problem with touching the candy. Again, Willy Wonka shuddered as he whirled himself around in his chair. He couldn't sell candy that little boys kept putting their icky little fingers in. Eew. And he had already gotten himself stuck in the chocolate river, ruining an entire batch of otherwise germ-free chocolate...

Okay, so it wouldn't be the fat kid.

Hmm, what about the tall kid? He seemed bright for his age...after all, he did manage to break the system to get his golden ticket. And he seemed to have a good amount of knowledge on those "computer" thingies...that wouldn't be too bad for running the factory.

But on the other hand...the kid hated chocolate. Chocolate. The epitomy of all that is good in the world. What could you do with a kid like that?

Okay, so it wouldn't be the tall kid.

And the bad nut...she was such a brat. Really, the only thing she had going for her was the fact that she was rich. Or, rather, her...erm...(gag)...you know...dad...was rich. And it wasn't as though Willy Wonka was begging for alms. After all, giant factories were the tiniest bit expensive when it came to making sure the chocolate waterfall didn't flood, the cotton candy sheep didn't get wet, and that the Oompa Loompas' dental plan didn't expire again.

Okay, so it wouldn't be the bad nut.

What about the blue one, though? She seemed like quite the ambitious little youngster. Granted, she had (shudder) hugged him, but if she didn't do it again, she might not be so bad. After all, she could probably do good things with the factory, if given the right training. And as for her brattiness...well, most of that seemed to stem from her...erm...(gag)...mom's influence. Maybe if she was kept in the factory long enough, she might be a good apprentice.

Okay, so it would be the blue one. Though he might have to wrench the chewing gum away from her.

Cheered up, Willy Wonka stopped spinning himself around and promptly fell to the ground. After a few seconds, he managed to gather himself together enough that he could stand up, but he still wobbled a bit as he made his way back to the glass elevator. Despite his extreme dizziness, as he passed a group of Oompa Loompas, he could hear them practicing another one of their musical routines.

"We're all lumberjacks and we're okay

We sleep all night and we work all day!"

"Love the choreography!" Willy Wonka called out as he passed by, and the Oompa Loompas replied happily with little fits of laighter.
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Willy Wonka felt slightly awkward as he made his way down the hotel hallway. He hated, hated, hated having to go outside the factory for long periods of time. So many people, with their icky, dirty fingers...he much preferred the Oompa Loompas. Still, he did need to find an heir...

After checking with Doris, he had managed to hunt down the name of the hotel the Beauregards were staying at, along with their room number. He'd gotten there by using the glass elevator, but now that he was actually there he felt quite uncomfortable. So many people...and this hotel was so dirty. Honestly, there had to be germs swarming all over the place. For probably the fiftieth time, Willy Wonka made sure his clean, sterile gloves were still on his hands.

Calm down, he told himself mentally. Just talk to the blue girl and you can get out of here. After all, they'll be going back to the US soon, and you don't want to follow them all the way to America, after all. He forced himself to think of something soothing, something peaceful...

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk

I'm a woman's man, no time to talk.

Music!

And with that idea planted firmly in his head, Willy Wonka strode down the hallway, happily pretending that he was John Travolta looking spiffy in his disco outfit.

Music loud and women warm,

I've been kicked around since I was born.

And now it's all right, that's okay,

You may look the other way.

We can try to understand

The New York Times' effect on man.

Some of the other people in the hotel stared at the oddly dressed man making his way down the hall humming happily to himself while strutting. The rest just averted their eyes and concentrated on what they were doing.

Wonka, however, paid them no heed as he kept on walking, swirling his cane in time to the music that only he could hear. As a result, he jumped nearly a foot in the air when a familiar blonde woman stared at him, asking, "Mr. Wonka?"

After he recovered from being startled, Wonka tried to put on a winning smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace. "Hello...Miss...erm..." Wonka glanced quickly at a flashcard hidden in his sleeve. "...Beauregard..."

The blonde woman smiled toothily at the eccentric man, which made Wonka rather uncomfortable. He backed away slowly, "Yes, erm, hello, I was hoping I could talk to your daughter..."

"Oh, she's asleep right now. It's very late out, you know." Willy Wonka, who had barely registered the night sky when he was out in the glass elevator, nodded slightly. The eerie grin broadened as Ms. Beauregard inched her way closer to Wonka. "What is it you need to talk to her about?"

"Yes, well..." Wonka let out a high-pitched giggle, since he was getting awfully nervous near this woman. "...it's about that prize that I decided to give out to one of the children who came to my factory..."

"Oh, I knew my Violet would win! She takes after me that way."

"Erm...yes. But I really do need to talk to her..."

Ms. Beauregard batted her eyelashes. "Of course, of course. Come with me." She led Wonka towards her hotel room, turning her head every few seconds to glance him over and bare her teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. Wonka followed her as a curious feeling of foreboding washed over him, though he couldn't quite tell why.

After unlocking the door to the hotel room, Ms. Beauregarde ushered Wonka in and got him to sit on a small chair. Wonka looked around and, seeing no hint of Violet, figured that this must be a suite. Mrs. Beauregard hastily handed him a small drink of what Wonka thought must be cranberry juice. He nodded, forcing a grin, even though this woman was making him more and more anxious by the minute. Ms. Beauregard, eyeing him like a vulture, hovered around him for a few seconds before hastily excusing herself to the next room.

"I'll be right back. You just wait right here."

Again, she grinned eerily. Wonka, once he was certain she had left, sniffed his drink cautiously. This wasn't like any cranberry juice he had ever seen before. He sipped it, then spit it out immediately. This wasn't juice! This was...wine!

It was then that the Barry White music started from the adjacent room, and everything clicked in Wonka's mind.

Some of the people at the hotel the next morning reported an oddly dressed man running down the hallway, screaming at the top of his lungs the night before.