Ah, another chapter! This one was fun to write, not saying that the others weren't, but I could picture this scenario a little more easily than I could the other two. When I think of a pet for Mr. Wonka, I think of cat. Not just because I love cats, but because I feel like they'd suit him better than any other pet. Anyway, as always, comments and favorites are always so very much enjoyed!

DISCLAIMER: Well, I still don't own any of the characters from my fics (except any OCs), so Charlie and the Chocolate Factory doesn't belong to me, nor do any of its characters.


Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
(takes place before the movie)

Out of an act of pure boredom, Mr. Willy Wonka sat at the high-back swivel chair before a dozen television screens that lit the dark room, mellowly watching one screen for a moment before moving on to the next. Each square revealed a different part of the Chocolate Factory; they were security cameras. One overlooked the Nut Sorting Room, which showed a number of red squirrels cracking walnuts. Another had a panaramic view of the Chocolate Room, where a massive cascading chocolate waterfall churned the creamy substance.

The interior of the factory wasn't the only place being watched, however. Outside, several more camera kept their mechanical eyes on the loading docks where the famous candies were exported, the front gates, as well as the overwhelming front doors.

The cameras never used to be necessary, but after so many attempts to snatch his secret recipes, Mr. Wonka had deemed such things to be required.

Wonka sighed at the boring screens, placing the side of his head in his palm. His other hand help a slender remote with a variety of buttons. He didn't have to sit there and click through the boring channels of security cameras, but there was absolutely nothing better to do. The Oompa Loompas were all casually busy with the many candy-making jobs in the factory and already Wonka had walked through the building several times that day, checking on the short people's work and testing the chocolate. After that, he wasn't needed, and that made his heart tremble. He liked feeling needed. After all, it was his chocolate factory, and yet with so many helpers, the Chocolatier had more down time than he preferred.

As he flipped aimlessly through the different cameras, something caught his attention on the screen that viewed the massive iron gates at the front of the factory. The pale-faced man kept flipping the channels until he had realized what he'd seen. Hurrying back to the image, Wonka lifted his head off his hand. His brows furrowed.

Someone was placing a box at the foot of the metal bars.

Pressing a single round button on the purple remote, the screen zoomed in to get a better view of what was happening. From what Wonka could tell, the box was being dropped off by a young girl, ten years old at the most, in tattered clothes. As she straightened herself back up, Willy could clearly see several trails of tears falling down her cheeks. What was she dropping off that would make her so sad, wondered Wonka.

When the girl disappeared from the camera's view, Willy Wonka, in his fancy black undershirt, snatched the purple overcoat that hung on his chair and grabbed his hat and cane that leaned against the wall before hurrying out of the dim room.

He couldn't remember the last time the front doors had been open. At first, the brilliant Chocolatier wasn't even sure he'd know the way. But after several minutes of turning corners and back-tracking when a wrong turn had been made, Wonka was outside, feeling the cool nighttime breeze blow across his face.

The gates were up ahead and despite the darkness that night spilled across the town, Wonka could see the box that had been set down by the child stranger. At first, he approached it willingly with his head high and shoulders straigth. What could be so bad about a box? However, as he neared the cardboard container, his pace slowed into less-confident strides. He hadn't the faintest idea as to what was hidden in the box's inky shadows, but now he was nervous to find out. With all the thieving attempts at his secret recipes, Wonka was afraid that this box was somehow a way to get them. Perhaps it was a distraction or a—

The purple-eyed man recoiled once he had taken a cautious peek into the box's darkness. The moonlight above washed over the face of a lone kitten that sat in a corner of the box. The tiny animal was cowering defenselessly against the cold cardboard wall and eyed the tall man with hopeful blue eyes.

Willy stood at the opposite side of the gate for over a mintue, dumbfounded. Why would someone drop off a kitten in a box at his place? It was chocolate factory, not an animal shelter. But his curiosity was quick to return to Wonka and he glanced at the cat for a second time.

When it saw his face, the puny cat cried in a high-pitched kitten voice and approached the side of the box that was closest to Wonka.

An eyebrow rose high up his forehead and he did a slow search to his left and right, wondering if the child who had dropped off the animal was still near.

There was no sign of her.

"Meeeeew!" screached the kitten, causing Wonka to jump with a start.

"What?" he asked it with no sympathy in his voice. "You can't live here. Complain to the little girl that dumped you on the street."

"Mew," the kitten said.

"Well, I'm going back inside. I'm getting claustrophic out here." Wonka turned to leave when he heard,

"Mew!" for a third time. The kitten was yelling at him.

His shoulders drooped and the Chocolatier sighed. When he spun around to look down at the fuzzball, the pale-faced man giggled childishly, but with no humor in the laugh. "Now, when has screaming gotten anyone anywhere?"

The cat was silent now and it looked up at Wonka curiously.

"Exactly." But now, Willy couldn't peel his eyes away from the kitten.

The tiny animal was staring up at him with blue baby eyes, obviously wanting attention and a place to stay.

"Oh no, no, no. The pouty face doesn't work on me, little cat," said Wonka, waving an index finger at the pitiful creature.

It simply continued to stare, as if awaiting Wonka's reluctant approval.

For several moments, the purple-eyed Chocolatier thought. He wondered why someone would abandon a rather exotic-looking cat cub. He wondered whether or not he should just turn around and walk back inside his factory and forget about the animal in the box before him. He wondered what his Oompa Loompas would think if he brought home a cat. He wondered why he was even wondering about the last wonder. Of course he wasn't going to bring home a cat.

Was he?

Putting his cane-less mauve gloved-hand on his hip, Wonka said in a very conversational tone, "If you were to live in my factory, hypothetically speaking, where would you plan on sleeping? Not my bed. Not the Oompa Loompas' beds. And what would you eat? Chocolate is bad for little kitties like you." He shook his head casually. "And I highly doubt you're potty-trained. You're no bigger than a minute and you can't be much older than one either." Giggling weirdly again, Wonka bent down to get his face closer to the kitten's. His silky straight hair swept down his cheeks and hung at each side of his face. "So what would I do with you if, hypothetically speaking, I decided to save you from your cardboard box?"

"Mew," said the kitten, eyeing Wonka's hair. Playfully, it leaned back on its hunches and batted its front paws at the hair that was clearly over a foot out of reach.

Willy's face relaxed then as the kitten failed at depth-perception. "You are kinda cute, though. But I've never had a cat before. Daddy never let me have one…" The last sentence faded out as Wonka was thrown into an old childhood memory where his father had removed a stray kitten from his son's arms and placed it down roughly out on the curb.

"No pets allowed!" Mr. Wonka Senior shouted at young Willie, who frowned deeply.

Another little whine dragged the young man back to reality.

He sighed again and straightened up. "Alright, but if you pee in my bed, you're sleeping outside. Understand, little kitty?"

The kitten shivered against a strong breeze that suddenly picked up. Its ears flattened against its head and its whiskers pressed against its cheeks.

Feeling sorry for the cold critter and making his final mental decision to take the cat, Wonka bent down and scooped it up briskly through the bars of the metal gate. Just a second later, a wicked wind sliced the air and swept away the box that the kitten had just been resting in.

Willy could feel the little animal trembling in his hands as he walked towards the front doors and he instinctively tucked it away in his purple overcoat. Once they were in, warmth overtook them and Wonka smiled at being back in a familiar place. A rustling in his coat made him remember the kitten hidden nicely inside. "Oh, right," he said, removing the kitten with one hand as he leaned his cane against the nearest wall, hanging his top hat on it. Wonka held up the cat with both hands and examined it in the hall's light.

It was quite obvious that the breed was exotic, although Wonka had no idea what kind. The Chocolatier was famous for his candied sweets, not his knowledge of cats. Still, the small black spots that dotted the little thing's tan body were beautiful, even to Willy who did not usually take a liking to young creatures, mainly children.

There were raccoon stripes along the tail and elongated spots on all of its legs. It had a dark grey nose, as opposed to the usual pink, strangely large ears and its eyes were bright blue. Wonka at least understood that the eye color was due to the kitten's young age. As for the striking coloration, that was new for the Chocolatier.

"What kind of cat are you?" he asked, turning the kitten in his hands. "Hm, certainly nothing I've ever seen before."

"Mew?" it asked as it dangled from Wonka's grasp.

"What? Are you hungry…or something? Look, bringing you in was very short notice, Kitty. I don't have any food for you right now." Wonka looked at the poor animal, whose eyes were bright with curiosity, and sighed. "But I'm sure the Oompa Loompas can cook something up."

The brown-haired man couldn't resist a small smile in the kitten's direction before he set it down on the purple carpet at his feet. As he headed down the hall in search of something to feed his new pet, Wonka's grin grew when the fuzzball romped after him, eager to be close. To be needed was a wonderful feeling.

"I'll take care of her," whispered the Chocolatier. He knew the tattered-looking girl from outside wouldn't be able to hear him, but he felt that he should make the promise anyway.


First off, yes, I know that claustrophobia is the fear of closed-in spaces. But this is Willy Wonka we're talking about here. He's a little quirky and I can imagine him mixing up words oddly.

Next, the kitten is a Savannah cat, my all-time favorite breed of kitty.

Lastly, the quote "If you pee in my bed, you're sleeping outside" is taken from a dearly beloved movie of mine. If someone could guess what said movie is, I will give that person a...(pause for dramatic effect...which is Gru quote)...HIGH-FIVE! Woohoo, right? Right? Now, everyone reading this should go comment and stuff. That would make me feel happy. :D