Disclaimer:
This story has no association with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. In fact I have never even heard of such a story, how dare you accuse me of breaching copyright policies! Besides, that story was about chocolate, this story was about meat.
Completely innocent!
Charlene and the Meatworks Factory
"What do you get when you guzzle down sweets?
Eating as much as an elephant eats?
What are you at getting terribly fat?
What do you think will come of that?"
Charlene ripped into a bag of chicken chips, stuffing her face as she walked down the street. Any crumbs that fell onto her bloated stomach were quickly scooped up and shoved into her waiting mouth. This snack gave her the energy to move her overlarge legs long enough to walk from her school to her house; all nine blocks of it. It also served to distract her from the painfully difficult task of breathing while her lungs were buried under all the weight of her excess blubber.
The suburb she walked through was an average area with cracked pavement and brown lawns. The houses were small and the fences were rusty, or in some cases completely absent. Despite its uninviting appearance and record number of criminals it was a good place to live. No one messed with you when you lived on this side of the tracks. The last police investigation was in '94, and the officers who were foolish enough to barge into the house left swearing they would never step foot in the neighborhood again.
It was getting dark when Charlene reached her house. Kicking open the crooked wooden door she yelled to anyone who might be in the house that she was armed with a pistol and would fire at the first sign of movement. It was a customary greeting to ensure that the neighbors would get out before she reached the kitchen. She never bothered to mention that the pistol required water instead of bullets.
Dumping her bag on the floor she sat down to spend the evening with her good friends the refrigerator and the pantry. Charlene spent most of her time in the kitchen doing her homework, watching television and, of course, eating whatever was in reach of her outstretched hand. Her parents left before she came home so she had the whole house to herself every night. Their jobs required the cover of darkness if they were to be successful, and they always returned with something eatable for their 'little' girl.
Currently the child was hunched over her computer, a piece of technology so large that it was a wonder that the bench could withstand the weight. Sucking on a lollipop, she checked her email and discovered an unread message.
'Hey mate,
Congratulations!
I, Wally Wanka, invite you to meet me at the meatworks factory tonight at seven o'clock. You have been chosen to sample my latest creation, Wanka Jerky. As this is a top secret invention that no one else must get the recipe to, I must ask you to come alone. Prepare for a gastronomic delight, the likes of which you have never experienced.
Yours truly,
Wally Wanka.'
Charlene licked her lips and checked the clock. It was nearly seven already. Eagerly she slid off her chair and waddled out the door, never stopping for a moment to wonder how the man got her address.
Thighs pumping at top speed, she walked up the dark street to the meatworks factory. The building always had the appearance of being abandoned, with its broken widows and dilapidated state. In fact, Charlene had never even seen the factory display any signs of being active, but tonight she forgot all about that as she anticipated the free meat she was about to receive.
Stomping past the tall, rusted gates she shoved her way into the factory to be greeted by the smell of blood and fat. Charlene didn't have a great sense of smell so she didn't notice it that much. What she did notice was a shadow at the top of some rusted iron steps. She ascended the stairs and met an old man with a balding patch and a hairy potbelly.
He grinned cheerfully and waved. "Welcome to my factory!"
Charlene looked around, hoping to see a large tray of jerky nearby. Instead, all she could see was some chains swinging in the dim light and several carcasses of some animals dangling.
"Where's the jerky?" she asked bluntly.
"In good time mate! First I want to show you something!" The meat man beamed and pointed over the rail. "See that stream that runs between the vats?"
Charlene leaned over. In the darkness she couldn't identify much, but she could see a line of liquid running below her. It was almost as black as the night outside.
"You see that mate? See it? That's blood! My very own stream of blood! Isn't it fantastic? And you see the rocks it's running over? Livers! Hundreds off them!" he bounced behind her, shaking the railing.
Charlene nodded, distracted by the cry for meat her stomach was issuing. "Fantastic. Can I have the jerky now?"
"Wait, wait! I have to show you something else! Something brilliant! Look! Can you see them?" He pointed at an empty space on the ledge opposite.
Charlene blinked. "See what?"
Wally Wanka pointed again. "The little men, of course! Don't you see them?"
Charlene rolled her eyes. It seemed the man was a few ribs short of a steakhouse.
"Yeah, I see them. Amazing." She said, humouring him.
"Aren't they just? And do you like my vats? They are most useful. They boil the meat! The cook it and tenderize it and mix in the gravy! Take a look!" He jumped excitedly.
Rolling her eyes, Charlene leaned over to stare into the vat below. This guy was definitely wacko.
Looking up she noticed the nearest carcass had oddly hung forelegs. "What animals do you use?" she asked, confused.
Behind her metal jangled and a hook suddenly impaled itself through her chest.
"Humans." Wally Wanka giggled.
Charlene was hoisted off her feet and dragged by the heavy metal chain until she hung over a large vat of bubbling gravy. Choking on her own blood, she managed to splutter an expletive.
"Now don't tense up, I want this patch to be good and tender for the customers. Man, am I glad I saw you pass by here this afternoon. I was running out of meat, and livestock is so damn expensive. Much simpler and cheaper to carve up a plump little guzzler like you, and I'm doing the world a favour too. For each fat child I slaughter, there's enough excess food for ten people over! It's cheap and economical. Genius, if I do say so myself. And people have the audacity to say I'm mad…" he ranted, slowly lowering Charlene into the boiling vat that awaited her.
It was getting hard to stay awake now, and breathing had become impossible with the large hook sticking out of her chest. Above Wally Wanka applauded her descent.
The last thing Charlene saw before her meat was stripped from her bones by the searing heat was a box of jerky with her name on it.
"Oompa, loompa, doom-pe-de-da,
If you're not greedy, you will go far,
You will live in happiness too,
Until the police catch up with you…"