Based on the Tim Burton version of the story. Willy Wonka and his father were doomed not to get on. Just a really short oneshot on how beliefs ripped them apart.
Disclaimer: Yeah, if I were Tim Burton, I wouldn't have written this, and if I were Roald Daul I'd be dead. No ... I definatly don't own.
Misunderstanding
Every time he saw it.
That name, printed in block capitals on every newspaper he'd ever bothered to glance at. That name, so stupid in one way, and so clever in another ... like his own he supposed ... People remembered the two double-u's. Everyone remembered that name.
But, no-one knew the man behind the name. Not like he did, anyway, No-one knew of the boy with more passion than power. No-one knew the boy that had constantly fought with his father over something so stupid as ... as ...
The father was a dentist. He cared about saving teeth from sure destruction at the hands of ... of ...
The boy was different. The boy, with that stupidly clever name now plastered in black and white all over the world, hated the strict diet that forbade sweet things.
The boy and his father were doomed not to get on. Doomed by something as stupid as ...
So, they walked away. The boy lifted the backpack of the hook, and turned away. The click of the door shutting cutting through the bitter thickness of words not said and others that should never have been spoken.
Empty threats carried through anyway, anger not meant, the dull sound of two hearts snapped, and the echo of a relationship that never could have worked.
Sometimes, he supposed, people were just too stupid to understand what they had right in front of them. Too blind to understand differing opinions. To blind too see the passion that the other had, and destroying eachother and themselves for it.
Now, everytime he saw that name, his heart filled with such bitterness and pride, a mix so bitter-sweet it hurt. The slice of the sissors through the delicate paper reminding him of the delicate cut that sliced a doomed relationship apart.
Still, the father hung up every scrape of information on his son. Every success, faliure, the disapperance that baffled everybody, the reapperance that had utterly perplexed the entire world.
He wanted to know. Know something of his son's passion that he could never understand. Wanted to understand, even from a distance, the root for his son's beliefs.
The anger was still there. The wounds still raw from the time the door had clipped closed so crisply. But he wanted to know.
He wanted to know how something so stupid as ... as ... c ... chocolate could rip apart a relationship.
Wilbur Wonka, the dentist.
Willy Wonka, the cocolateer.
An old man, sitting, clinging to memories, proud and bitter as the day is long.
And his son, miles away, clinging to solitude and trying to forget.
What ripped them apart.
Chocolate?
Dentistry?
Or a misunderstanding impossible to fix.
Well? Whatcha think? Constructive crit welcomed, compliments really welcomed, pointless flames ignored. Please review?
