"But Daddy, I want it now!"
This is how it always started.
Veruca Salt's voice pierced the air of the living room. She glared at the tired, worn man standing across the room from her. He stood there, exhausted, trying not to stare at her newly developed acne and widened hips. She was no longer the prim and proper girl who barked demands at the owner of a once-famous chocolate factory. Now, she was something much more frightening: a teenager.
"But Daddy, I want it now!"
"You know it makes me uncomfortable when you call me Daddy," the man said, rubbing the side of his face. "I'm your butler, not your father. Please Veruca, just call me Stan."
Veruca continued glaring at Stan. Her fear tactics lost their magic on him years ago after he first started working for Veruca's widowed mother. Her mental maturity was undoubtedly behind her newfound physical maturity. It was a condition that the psychologists referred to as "post-traumatic developmental block."
"But Stan, all of the other girls at school are getting lip piercings, and I want one now!"
"Veruca, your mother would kill me if I let you get a lip piercing while she was away on business," Stan said. Veruca's mother, Veronica, was often away on business, leaving Stan to deal with the nightmare that was Veruca. At first, Stan didn't understand Veronica's desire to constantly leave the lavish mansion she inherited, but after being alone with Veruca for an hour, he understood.
"I don't care. I want it now!"
"Even if I was going to allow you to get your lip pierced," he said. "I wouldn't even know how to go about doing it. You would probably need to research different tattoo parlors in the area, and then you would need to compare prices, decide which one best fits your needs…"
"I don't care, I want it NOW!"
Stan sighed. He wanted to lash out at her but he couldn't.
When she was only nine years old, she and her father toured Mr. Wonka's legendary Chocolate Factory. Their portion of the tour ended when she was dumped into the trash incinerator after being deemed a "Bad Egg" in 's golden hen room. Concerned, her father jumped in after her. Veruca's petite frame allowed her to scurry out of the incinerator to safety before it lit ablaze. Her father was not so fortunate.
"I want it now, Stan!"
As a result of feeling responsible for her own father's death amongst rejected pieces of candy, Veruca developed post-traumatic developmental block, which forced her to behave the way she did at the time of the accident. After extensive therapy, the psychologists concluded that it was unlikely she would ever recover to the point of a typical, functioning adult. Although Stan resented Veruca, he knew that it was never her fault.
"Stan – now!"
She intended to get her lip pierced by constantly pestering Stan, yet she didn't know that all she needed to persuade him was the far away sadness in her eyes. It was the sadness of a girl who was shaped by bad parents; the sadness of a girl who never had the choice to live differently. Stan was the only one there for her, and he often put it upon himself to make her mentally stagnant life as enjoyable as possible. This pity for her got him every time.
Stan groaned.
"I'll go pull up the car."