Disclaimer: I am not one of the lucky copyright holders of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in its many forms. I don't own anything at all. But I do hope you find this just for fun, not for profit, perhaps elucidating, gentle parody, entertaining.

November 23rd is a special, if sad, anniversary in this fandom, and to mark it I am posting this next chapter.

If the traffic in the shop was any indication, the folks in town had decided to spend today in hibernation. Terence didn't blame them. A low overcast, that partially engulfed the factory at the top of the hill, had persisted all day, threatening snow. The snow had held off, but it was a dreary day all the same.

So it was a bit surprising, as dusk was beginning to settle over the town, to hear the bells above the shop door jingle merrily. The unexpected sound made a feeble attempt to cut through the gloom, but failed. In swept a gust of very cold air followed closely by a black, silk top hat. At least, that's what it looked like to Terence from his current vantage point. Seated on the floor, at the back of the shop, a clipboard in his hand, he had inventory on his mind. Inventory, and now, a black, silk, top hat. Unusual. He rose to his feet to see more. Under the hat was a tall, slender man wearing a black, nubby textured great-coat that reached to his booted ankles. In one purple gloved hand he carried a walking stick, while his other gloved hand removed a pair of purple rimmed, goggle style sunglasses from his face. Terence hadn't seen his visitor for years, but he knew him immediately. Despite the changes, and Terence could see there were many, the eyes remained unmistakable.

"Willy!" he exclaimed happily. The sight had done what the sound could not; the day had just lost all its dreariness.

"Terence!" came the enthusiastic response, in the same high, flute-like voice Terence remembered so well.

The simple exchange told them both a lot about the state of the friendship. On the day Terence had introduced himself to Willy, he had told him that his friends called him 'Terence'. Willy had said nothing as he considered that he had never heard this newcomer called anything but 'Terry'. He had tilted his head and been impressed when Terence had addressed his unspoken thoughts. "It's a formal sounding name and folks prefer 'Terry'. I don't insist, but I mean what I say when I tell them what I just told you." Willy had nodded and said, carefully, because of the braces, "My friends call me Willy." It was Terence's turn to nod. He'd heard this boy-in-the-cage called a lot of things, the nicest of which was 'Wonka', and none of which were 'Willy'. Understanding each other, they had used the names without fail.

Without wasting any more time, Willy Wonka continued more softly, "If it's okay with you, I'd like to turn this over." He tilted his head slightly, standing otherwise motionless, as he waited for the verdict.

Terence looked, and could see that Willy held one corner of the 'Open/Closed' sign that was hanging on the door between two fingers. He was proposing to turn it to 'Closed'.

"Of course!" Terence replied. "You'd be saving me the trouble. It's been slow all day."

Willy turned the sign over.

"I am so delighted to see you...," began Terence, but Willy, now a nervous ball of energy, waved his hand in the air and quickly strode further into the shop, his eyes darting about intently, his walking stick held out like an antenna. Seeing the Wonka bar display among the clutter of newspapers and magazines that were the heart and soul of the shop's business, he headed that way.

"Delighted to see you, too", Willy interrupted, his eyes fixed on the display. "This delightful visit is to find a 'Delight' and I'll be very delighted when I find it." He paused, shooting a glance toward Terence, and added, "You have it."

"Then I'm delighted to know that I can delight you, but I don't know how you know I 'have it' or even what you're talking about."

Willy grinned with satisfaction. Terence had always been able to keep up, and after all these years he apparently hadn't lost the knack. Relaxing somewhat he said, "I know because I sent it to you. Specifically, the 'delight' is a Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight." Willy rocked back on his heels and looked at Terence expectantly.

"Ah. Well. Your search is over, then. That Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight on the display next to you is the only one left in the store. All you have to do is just reach out, and take it!"

Willy looked briefly down at the bar. "My search isn't over," he said, shaking his head. "I want the one with the fifth Golden Ticket in it. That's not it."

The words had an immediate effect on Terence. A look of astonishment crept over his face. His eyes became unfocused as he sank down on one of the two high stools he kept behind the counter. "The fifth Golden Ticket is in my shop?" he whispered. "Nobody found it! The tour was on the first! This is the tenth! The ticket isn't here!"

"My dear fellow," said Willy quickly, in a soothing voice, concerned by his childhood friend's unexpected and obviously distressed reaction. Leaning across the counter, he gave Terence's forearm an awkward pat. "It's quite alright. It is here. I'll find it, and then the entire hare-brained tour fiasco can sink into happy oblivion."

"But, how can you be sure it's here?" asked Terence again.

"Because I sent it to you. Do you remember that case of Fudgemallow Delights I had sent over to you last month by messenger?"

Terence nodded his head. He remembered it well. It had arrived as a single case.

"Well, that was it," Willy continued, observing the nod. "I wanted to give the locals a chance at a ticket and I figured you'd get a kick out of being the one to sell it."

"You got that right," said Terence, with a dejected sigh. "Just think of the publicity! But I didn't sell it, and here's the thing - I sold that entire case. No ticket."

"Here's the thing," echoed Willy, "You must have misplaced a box. It's here somewhere, and I'll find it."

With that, Willy took off for the far wall and began to open and rummage through all manner of doors and cabinets, peering into the shelves, poking about the stacks of paper and sundries, assisted by his cane.

Terence was still convinced it was a waste of time, he knew his shop pretty well, and didn't think he'd misplace a box of Fudgemallow bars, even in all the seeming clutter. But, after watching Willy in action for a few minutes, he decided he better get involved in the search before Willy took the place apart. Terence remembered Willy as staying 'under the radar' for the most part as a child, but he was certainly a bundle of energy now!

Terence moved to the back wall and worked toward Willy, searching diligently. They crossed paths, each now checking the work of the other.

"Willy?" Terence began, only to find himself cut short.

"Did you find it?" asked Willy excitedly.

"Ah, no, but, um, I was just wondering...," Terence started to say, only to find himself, again, cut short.

"No," said Willy definitively, peering into a cupboard.

"No, what?" asked Terence.

"You were about to ask me if I was going to cash any of those checks. The answer is 'no'. I like the notes." There was a pause, followed by a giggle. "They're very gossipy." Willy straightened up and turned to Terence. Smiling a bit too sweetly, he continued: "Maybe if you stop sending the notes, I'll cash the checks." The smile changed, looking a bit more genuine, as a thought crossed his mind. "Come to think of it, if I cashed the checks, I'd get notes." His smile broadened and became real. "But they wouldn't be the kind I want." Willy held up an index finger for emphasis. Lowering his hand, the smile fading, he laughed a short, mirthless, little laugh under his breath, and turned away to resume the search.

Terence watched the change and listened to the disparaging laugh. It started him wondering about problems money couldn't solve, but he only said, "Okay, then, I'll keep the notes coming."

Shortly after that, Terence became engrossed in a stack of inventory sheets he discovered mislaid in a drawer. Finally looking up, he found Willy nowhere in sight. Had he left? No, there was the great-coat neatly laid across the counter with the cane and top hat next to it. When had Willy taken those off, Terence wondered? Continuing to scan the shop, he heard, from behind the counter, a squeaky "Eureka!"

Terence strode to the counter and peered over it. There was Willy, sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a book in his hands, looking up happily.

"That's one word in Greek, but a whole sentence in English! Isn't that neat!" Willy chortled, practically squirming with satisfaction.

"So you found it?"

"That's what I just said! I have found it!"

"You put a Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight bar in a book?"

"No, silly. You must read here. Do you?"

"Sure, all the time. Thanks to you."

The gloved fingers on Willy's right hand waggled back and forth repeatedly in the air beside his head as he turned his face away. "Pshaw," he said dismissively, "you really didn't need my help."

"Oh yes I did," replied Terence, with feeling. "Every day straight for two solid months; you are as patient as a saint."

"I think I can safely say saints have it over me, but I do make an effort for things I like, and I do like to read," sighed Willy. "Reading can take you anywhere and teach you anything." Looking very satisfied, he said, "Teaching you was a good excuse to re-visit all my favorite books." Suddenly, Willy frowned, still holding the book he had found in his hands. "You moved, though."

"Yeah, we did," Terence replied, quickly. The lot he had seen meant moving was a sore subject for them both. He didn't want the conversation to go in that direction, and hurried to turn it back to reading. "That was I why I got behind in the first place. Every school's curriculum is different, so my timing was off. Once you fall behind on a basic like reading it's hard to catch up without everyone else thinking you're an idiot. It was getting to the point where I couldn't fake it anymore, and I also realized I wasn't going to get anywhere in life without it. I like to make my own choices, not have ignorance make them for me."

"So you said at the time, if perhaps not so eloquently." Willy lowered his head and studied the floor for a minute. His hair effectively hid his face. "Why did you ask me to help you?"

Terence laughed and Willy looked up, sharply. "That's easy. There wasn't anyone in that school more interesting than you. And you were tops in your class, so I knew you were smart. But it was the braces. They told me you were tough. Tough and smart. I just needed to know if you were generous, and I wouldn't know that unless I asked. So I did, and you were."

Willy was silent, but he suddenly felt very warm inside. It was a good feeling, like drinking excellent hot chocolate at the perfect temperature on a really cold day. He smiled to himself, pleased with how he had helped, and said, "I bet you don't remember the title of the book I was reading on the day you asked me to help you."

"I bet I do," replied Terence, with a smirk. "It was The Once and Future King, by T. H. White." Terrence laughed again. "How could I forget? The first thing you pointed out was that the 'T' stood for Terence."

"It was, and I did, didn't I?" came Willy's bemused response. "Remind me not to make a bet with you again."

"I might. It depends what I'd get if I won the bet. What did I get this time?"

Willy laughed easily. "This time, you get to find out where I found the box of chocolate bars." He hefted the book in one hand, and pointed with the other. "It was under this book, right here."

"Yeah, I keep whatever I'm reading under the counter, there," said Terence, leaning over and confirming the spot.

"Righty-O. Look at the title," directed Willy, now holding up the book so Terence could see it.

"Paradise Lost, by John Milton," he read, as Willy began to giggle, now holding up the box of chocolate bars in his other hand. In a moment, the both of them dissolved in laughter.

"Paradise Lost. You have no idea!" gasped Willy, between laughs, wiping away a tear.

"How do you know it's the right box?" asked Terence, his laughter dying away.

"Actually, that's a good point. Perhaps there are other mislaid boxes from that case," answered Willy, ending his laughter as well. "Let's find the bar with the Golden Ticket inside."

"We'll have to open them all."

"Of course we won't," replied Willy, testily. "We don't have to open any of them." With this, Willy returned the book to its spot and rose gracefully to his feet, placing the box on the counter. "But I will unpack it," he said, taking the bars out of the box and lining them up in three rows of five each.

"Now, Mike Teavee broke the code and he only had to buy one bar. Looking at these wrappers, can you?"

Terence looked at Willy, looked at the bars, looked back at Willy, and resignedly shook his head.

"Well, don't give up yet. It's really quite simple. I nearly laughed myself off the sofa when I watched the interview Mike gave on TV when he found the ticket, and listened to his overly complicated explanation. What did he say? Oh yes. 'All you had to do was check the manufacturing dates,' was the first bit. Translated, that would be, 'look for the gold star on the wrapper'. The next bit was, 'off-set by weather'. Complete theater that one; I have an all-weather, worldwide, delivery system." Willy emphasized this point with a dismissive flick of his hand. "The last bit was, 'and the derivative of the Nikkei index'. More theater; I mean, seriously, what has the Nikkei anything got to do with this?" He giggled, and then sighed. "In the end, all his intellectual red herrings made him sound like a rocket scientist. I actually liked that. I like audacity. I had high hopes for him but..., I'm sorry, I do run on. Have you got it?"

Terence could only shake his head again. All the bars still looked the same to him.

"Okey-dokey, then, here we go." Willy gestured at one of the bars. "What does it say in the golden star on that one?"

"Win a trip to Wonka's Chocolate Factory," read Terence.

"On that one over there?"

"Same thing."

"And this one over here?"

"Same thing."

"Look again."

Terence looked again. "Well, well! It says 'Win a ticket to Wonka's Chocolate Factory'." Terence looked up. "You mean that's it?" Willy nodded. "That is simple!"

"Thank you, Watson," said Willy, with a wink and a smirk. "It's always simple when Sherlock explains it. Of course, it's a lot easier to figure out if one wrapper is in fact different from the others. Mike Teavee was observant. I like that, too."

Willy laid his hand over the bar containing the fifth, and last, Golden Ticket, while Terence stacked the rest of the bars on the display stand. When he finished, Terence noticed a distinct change in the atmosphere of the shop. All the energy seemed to have left it. His gaze fell on Willy. No. That wasn't right. All the energy had left Willy.

"I'm sorry, Willy. I had the ticket and I didn't sell it because I misplaced it. I heard what you said earlier about Mike Teavee. You had 'high hopes' for him. I don't know what you had in mind, but it wasn't just a tour was it?"

Willy smiled a small, resigned smile. "As it turned out, it was. Would it have been different if this ticket had been found?" His eyebrows arched upwards speculatively for a moment. "No... maybe... I don't know," he continued, with a shrug of his shoulders. "But we've solved the mystery of how this ticket wasn't found, haven't we?" He watched as Terence nodded. "Still, I do wonder why it wasn't found." Willy looked pensive, and Terence shifted uncomfortably. Willy noticed the movement and quickly said, "Don't worry about it, I'm sure there was some good reason."

Willy had a new thought. Terence could see Willy's energy returning, filling the shop with its boundless quality once again.

"I'll tell you one thing though," said Willy, pointing at the bar with a confident smile now brightening his face, "Now found this one not will be! Done with tours I am, and you can take that to the bank! Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!"

Terence shook his head. "Are you saying "yuck, yuck, yuck, or laughing?"

"Wow! Both, I guess. Isn't that weird?" answered Willy, momentarily taken aback.

Recovering swiftly, Willy shook himself and picked up the chocolate bar on the counter. "So, I'm delighted I've found my 'Delight'." He pointed at the chocolate bars on the display stand. "And doubly delighted that you've found many 'Delights'. A delightful evening for us both!"

Finishing the sentence, Willy realized the reason for the visit was also finished. He found himself disappointed for the second time that day. Lowering his head, he cast about in his mind for a reason to stay longer, but one did not readily suggest itself. Ah, well, he thought, that's that. Looking up, he said, in a bright tone that almost hid the forlorn note underneath it, "'Kay then, 'bye now!" and reached for his hat, cane, and coat.

To be continued...