Author's Notes: Hi readers! Thanks for all of your positive feedback! Sonny April, thanks for the clarification- I didn't realize that there were so many fics similar to mine and that's good to know! I'm glad you liked my chapter and yeah, I should of thought about LA with all of those lights and I've been there before! Haha That's exactly why I made Kevin say that to show how similar he is to his mom, not just his looks. Individualist, I'm so glad you loved my chapter and how I used flashbacks to depict what exactly happened after she inflated into a blueberry. mattTheWriter, you will find out very shortly and have a blast on your vacation! JohnHammond1993, you shall find out soon and maybe later you will find a song or so... now off we go! :)
In the scorching heat of Arizona, 29 year-old Mike Teevee sat on a stony bench that faced the world famous Grand Canyon, which was now his sanctuary. He closely examined the majestic canyon and then looked down to paint the final touches of his latest artwork on his day off of work. Mike was now of average height and long regained a normal shape. He looked not much different than his boyhood self, making him appear ten years younger. After his ill-fated visit to the factory, Mike's mother decided to take the television and toy pistols away, realizing that her son was wasting his life. Mike did not handle the punishment well at all in the beginning, complete with tantrums and tears.
Mrs. Teevee forced him to join various after school clubs including football, baseball, band, and chess, which the former TV addict despised. The last place she sent him was an art club, where a hidden and unexpected talent was discovered. Once he realized his true passion, Mike completely forgot about the violent western TV shows he used to enjoy.
"Hey kid! Would you please take our picture?" a tourist with a thick Greek accent politely asked the baby-faced artist.
"Sure." the youngest runner-up replied as he gently placed his neon colored painting down and quietly groaned, hating to be interrupted or being called a kid.
He pushed his long, black bangs aside and grabbed the Greek man's camera. He took a few different shots of the large family while closely watching his painting from the corner of his eye.
"Did you make this?" a little Greek girl asked him, pointing at the painting.
Mike grinned.
"Yeah! I did!" he proudly responded as he raced back to fetch the damp artwork.
"It's so pretty! I like all of the colors, especially the pink stripes! Pink is my-"
Before the little girl could finish, her grandmother said something in Greek and gently grabbed her by the wrist. A huge smile widened on Mike's slightly freckled face as he continued to watch the stunning view of the canyon, even more proud of his artwork. He was thrilled that most of society viewed him as a successful artist who owned his own store rather the boy who was sent through television and then stretched by a taffy puller.
Once he finally finished his painting, Mike gently scooped it up and dashed into his bright red jeep. The long drive home was remarkably easy, with only just a handful of cars on the desert road. By the time Mike returned to his apartment complex in downtown Phoenix, the sun was nearly down. The baby-faced artist could not help but enjoy the the beautiful colors in the sky. After he parked his jeep, he grabbed his fully dry painting and took the moldy-smelling elevator to reach to his aging apartment. When Mike reached to his apartment, a rerun of Miami Vice was blaring on the TV as his roommate Eric was making out with his girlfriend of three months on the sofa. Mike rolled his blue eyes with annoyance.
"For God's sake Eric!" he yelled.
Eric did not respond and continued to kiss his girlfriend.
"ERIC!"
Eric finally stopped kissing and looked towards his irked roommate.
"Mike, oh hi! Sorry, but she wanted to do it here and you were gone all day! By the way, you got something in the mail today.."
Mike's annoyance immediately turned to excitement.
"Really?! What is it?" he eagerly asked, hoping it was another business requesting to use or sell his popular artwork.
Eric gave Mike an almost grim look.
"I don't know but you have to see it. It has nothing to do with your art. I put it in your room. You better brace yourself man..."
Mike began to feel leery about this mysterious mail he had received. He slowly walked into his studio that was filled with many of his paintings of different canyons, desert wildlife, and native american artwork, along with many art supplies and a crumpled pile of paint-splattered laundry.
On top of his messy desk was a large, boxy light purple envelope that was addressed to him. An all too familiar "W" was branded on it. Mike loudly gasped and accidentally knocked over a small tub of orange paint.
"You okay man?" Eric's voice asked from afar.
"Y-yeah..." Mike stammered, fixated on the envelope.
Seeing that "W" alone brought him back to the lowest point of his life. He glanced at it a few more times before eventually opening it. He slowly opened the purple envelope and moments later, a worn-out pair of goggles from the Television Room leapt directly at him. Mike made no attempt to pick them up and simply let them fall into the puddle of spilled orange paint.
As he stared at the old goggles slowly submerging into the paint puddle, he found himself back in the Television Room.
"LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION!" his nine year-old self screamed as he teleported himself via Wonkavision.
As he was being teleported, he enjoyed the bumpy, roller coaster like ride in a dark tunnel. He could barely hear his mother and Willy's voices but he could not care less. Mike was thrilled when he was literally inside a television, bragging his experience to his angry mother. He could not wait to tell all of his friends back home, only to be placed into his mother's dark purse. Mike could smell the strong scent of his mother's perfume and her wallet nearly crushed his leg. He tried to climb out via her comb and even warned his mother to smear her lipstick all over her purse if she did not take him out. When Mike had enough, he struggled to lift the lipstick, which seemed a thousand pounds for him.
The tiny cowboy felt a pair of fingers pick him up.
"Hey! Put me down!" he shrieked as he found himself in a small, dark room with only a pair of greenish-blue floodlights on the ceiling was its source of light.
"Hey mom! Where are we? I wanna go home and watch some TV!" Mike yelled.
He eyed a large machine that looked like a pair of pencil sharpeners. He looked up and realized that it was not his mother who was holding him.
"Where's my mom?!" Mike demanded as the oompa loompa who held him placed him on the machine.
A swarm of oompa loompas surrounded him and one of them commanded to start.
Seconds later, Mike felt an excruciating pain when his left leg was pulled and he let out a piercing scream that could be heard all through the factory. His other leg was then pulled and then the rest of his body. He was jerked around in different directions and he felt like he was on fire. Mike had never felt anything more painful in his entire life. After a while, the world fell silent and dark.
The next thing he knew he was lying on some sort of cot in a room that he did not recognize. Mike was still in pure agony as he heard his mother crying. He slowly sat up and then fell back down. It was then when he noticed that his legs were so long and thin that they were touching halfway the wall that was across from him. His white pants were stretched and torn. Mike stared at them in confusion and saw his arms were in the same condition.
"What happened to me?" he asked in a deeper, almost booming voice.
Mike gasped in horror at the sound of his own voice and frantically stood up, bumping his head onto the ceiling.
"M-Mike... they r-ruined y-you! Y-you're ten feet tall!" Mrs. Teevee wailed from below.
His mother looked so tiny in comparison to his new size. The Teevees were escorted back to the foyer where the other children and their guardians sat in shame. The others all gasped in horror and shock. Even Veruca was too shocked to jeer at him. Augustus cried and trembled even harder which made Mike feel even worse. At that moment, he realized that his mother was right. His life was completely ruined. The pain in his bones worsened so much that his mind snapped back to his cluttered studio. Mike fell backwards and saw the goggles were now completely covered in orange paint.
Since he was stretched, Mike was prone to bone and muscle aches. He grabbed some pain pills to relieve himself. His bones and muscles had not ached this much since hearing the news of Augustus' death which triggered the young artist horrible memories of the factory.
Mike went back into the kitchen to grab a glass a water and took his pills.
"Bones getting to you again dude?" Eric asked in concern.
Mike nodded as he swallowed his pills.
"I told you it would be difficult. What did the candyman want?"
"Uh, he sent me a beat up pair of goggles from the room where I was shrunk years ago!" Mike replied as he walked back into his studio to show Eric.
As he grabbed the paint-covered goggles a neatly folded white sheet of paper slid out of the envelope. Mike caught it in the nick of time. Eric walked in and noticed Mike holding the sheet.
"Did he send you something else?" he questioned.
"Yeah. I guess I'll read it." Mike replied as he unfolded the white paper.
It read:
Dear Mr. Teevee,
Congratulations on your successful career as an artist! We are proud that you are selling your art and no longer just watching television all day long. We would also like to see a sample of one of your masterpieces. October 1st will mark the 20th anniversary of the original tour. We invite you and your fellow runner-ups to a special tour of the factory in honor of the milestone. You will see out latest creations and will conclude with special dinner. We can guarantee that no accidents will occur. Please RSVP anytime between now and September 25th. We hope to see you in our world of pure imagination once more. Be there at 10 AM sharp.
Sincerely,
Willy Wonka and Charlie Bucket
"I hope not..." Mike muttered to himself.
"What?" Eric asked.
"Uh, Wonka's inviting me and the girls..."
"What girls?"
"Violet Beauregarde and Veruca Salt. So anyway, he's inviting the three of us back into his factory for the 20th anniversary of the first tour and he says that there won't be any accidents."
Eric scoffed as Mike found himself back into the factory foyer. The Gloops and Salts had been dismissed while he and his mother, along with the Beauregardes stayed behind, refusing to leave until he and Violet were fully fixed.
Willy wanted them to leave with the others until Charlie suggested ways to fix Mike and Violet. Though the chocolatier agreed with Violet's new cure but was not convinced that resending Mike via Wonkavision again was not the answer.
"But Mr. Wonka, there's gotta be some way to fix Mike!" Charlie rebelled.
"He signed his rights away Charlie, just like the others did. I think it's best for them to go back home." Willy flatly replied.
"Don't you have a candy that makes you smaller? I mean, you have candies that can help kids whistle and cure cavities, I'm pretty sure you have something that will shrink!"
Willy glanced at the distraught Teevees and then back at Charlie. He let out a sigh.
"You're right. I suppose deformity is far too strict of a punishment. And yes, I do as a matter of fact! Excuse me, would you kindly grab a shrinking sucker for me?" Willy asked a nearby oompa loompa, who them immediately rushed deeper into the factory.
The gigantic and unnaturally thin Mike paced back in forth with impatience as the group sat in silence. After some time, the oompa loompa ran back towards the others with a small blue sucker that looked nearly identical to a tootsie roll pop.
"Now... this is a shrinking sucker. You have to be very careful with it. Just one lick will shrink you down a foot. If you eat the whole thing, you'll be no taller than an inch, just like you were after you were shrunk..." Willy explained as he gave Mike the sucker.
"Now, how tall was your son?" Willy asked.
"Before today he was 3'10..." Mrs. Teevee replied in confusion.
"Hmm... very well then. So that means he has to lick it six times. After he's done, you can say he grew two inches! Go ahead Mike..."
With a nervous smile, Mike licked the blue sucker and felt himself quickly sink towards the others. He licked it five more times until he was back to his original height.
"I'm not touching the ceiling anymore!" Mike cried in his normal voice, thrilled to hear his high-pitched voice again.
Charlie smiled.
"Well thank you Mr. Wonka, but is there anyway to make him thicker though?" Mrs. Teevee asked, not fully satisfied.
Willy grabbed his chin.
"Hmm... well that's easy. I'm afraid there's no candy that will widen him up at the moment but I do have plenty of my candy to fatten him up but please don't overdue it. You don't want your son to end up like Augustus Gloop, do you?"
A group of oompa loompas handed Mrs. Teevee a large bag filled with an assortment of Wonka candies. She then placed a very thin Mike into the bag and he perfectly fit inside. The oompa loompas lead her to another truck to shield Mike from the media.
Despite her recent hatred towards the candyman, Mrs. Teevee forced Mike to eat all of the candy in order to rid of his two dimensional figure. After two weeks, his original shape was restored.
"So... are you going there?" Eric interrupted.
Mike immediately looked up from the letter.
"You know what, I am. Yeah, it was definitely a very painful experience but at the same time, it was the best thing that happened to me. If I never found that golden ticket or sent myself through television, none of my artwork would exist. I would probably be living in my parents' basement watching TV 24/7." Mike declared.
