Devil Four - Consequences

As expected, it took a further fortnight for the hammer to fall. Willy and Charlie were sat with the Oompa-Loompas in one of the chill out rooms, watching the news. The headlines appearing on the bottom of the screen were mostly boring. Then, there was laughter all around the room, as the focus turned to a confectioner's store.

'Slugworth Industries Strikes Out With Sickening Sweet' read the crawl. Next came, 'Rancid Chocolates Not Worth A Slug'. The headlines were eye catching. Then the real news began. There were reports that many children, all around the world, were becoming physically sick upon trying the new chocolate bar pioneered by Mr. Slugworth. But that wasn't all. Adults were reporting side-effects as well: women eating the new bar reported suffering hot flushes that made the Sahara seem like Greenland. All of it made Willy blanch.

Willy turned despondently to Charlie. "I did say hot and spicy, but that sounds more like what you said."

"Smokin' hot?"

Willy nodded. "Can you believe, Charlie, that after tasting that sludge, Slugworth sent it out? That he could do so escapes me; the man's a fool! How could he possibly believe any further processing would save that affront to the taste buds?"

"Now that you mention it, no, I can't," said Charlie, "but what do they mean about the Sahara and Greenland?"

Willy turned away. "Ask your mother."

The commentator droned on. Men reported a burning increase in libido, but with an accompanying total decrease in ability, with some intrepid adventurers further reporting that Viagra left them flat, er, flaccid. The effect was reported to last for three days, three hours, three minutes, and three seconds, though how anyone could be so precise about such a predicament had the reporter shaking his head. Surely it depended on how much of the candy one ate? Those who had been unfortunate enough to try the Viagra remedy suffered for double the time, with no one knowing why, or wanting to do the research to find out.

"So is that your 'hot and spicy', Willy?" asked Charlie, determined not to be the only one to feel embarrassed.

"Hot," allowed Willy, "but not spicy."

Willy turned back to the screen. The reporter, part of a panel, nibbled the corner of a bar, before spitting it out.

"Well, the flavour certainly is potent!" he exclaimed. "In the wake of Slugworth Industries massive advertising campaign, telling the world about the delectable flavour of their new confection, 'Slugbang Suckers', I have to question the definition they would give the word 'delectable.' It's certainly very different to my take! Hey! Do you think they're made with garden slugs?"

At that, laughter pealed round Wonka's TV room, as the occupants gave in to helpless belly laughs. This couldn't have worked out better, if they had planned it! The reporter's companions on screen chuckled politely, wondering all the while if their colleague would experience the other side effect: he'd eaten so little. It was a follow-up story for another day, perhaps, but whether it made it on-air or not, they knew they'd be asking him.

Reports continued piling in over the next few weeks, with Slugworth's stock falling under the weight of every one of them. Time showed that the 'heat' properties were multiplied by the number of grams a person nibbled on. Willy scratched his head in amazement. Having tasted the revolting flavour once, people went back a second and third time? It was ridiculous! Unthinkable! What was wrong with these people?

Within the month, Slugworth Industries had declared bankruptcy, and Slugworth himself was jailed for multiple misdemeanors, including, but not limited to, failure to properly test his product, false advertising, and endangering the public. During his trial, Slugworth did his best to implicate James Wilkinson, Willy Wonka's erstwhile personal assistant, as the cause of his downfall. Slugworth's tactic may have meant to tarnish Wonka's reputation as well, but with the long-standing disagreement between the two competitors so well known, no one put much stock in those claims. Of course, Willy waited for none of those events to unfold, summoning James to the Golden Egg Room on the day the news concerning the deleterious chocolate bars broke.

"Um, sure, Willy, but why?"

"You'll see," was all the enigmatic chocolatier replied.

Glued to Willy's side, James noted Charlie grinning like a half-wit, and something about that annoying teen's annoying grin gave James pause. At the Golden Egg Room, Willy bid James test the Eggdicator.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Willy. Is something wrong with it?"

"No, my less-than-good man, I trust," an eyebrow emphasized the word, "that everything is quite all right with it. Shall we see if all is dandy with you? Veruca Salt gave me this idea. I want to know NOW! I've beefed it up, you see. It will now accomadate your weight. You didn't know I'd done that? I thought you knew my every move, knowing the name of the Snozzberry Suckers before I'd told you it, as you did. Now, shall we see if you're a good egg? Step on the scale, if you please... Or don't you dare?"

James, backing away, his eyes wide, was opting for 'don't dare'. It was plain to him now that Willy was on to him. "I can explain, Willy. It's all a silly misunderstanding! You see I—"

"I have no intention of seeing, and no intention of seeing you in my Factory any longer. I have tapes of your telephone conversations with—"

James made to bolt, but Oompa-Loompas had been filing quietly into the room, and his way was blocked. James groaned, frowning at what he guessed was coming. Forming a circle around the nervous rat, trapping him, the Oompa-Loompas began to chant:

"Oompa-Loompa, doom-pa-de-do;
I've got a perfect puzzle for you.
Oompa-Loompa doom-pa-da-de
If you are wise you'll listen to me..."

James' frown deepened, as he watched the Oompa-Loompas going through their ridiculous dance routine. Yep, there was Willy, listening with polite interest, and that ridiculous child, Charlie, having the gall to laugh...

"What do you get when you stab-in-the-back?
Shown to the door, it's as simple as that.
Caught with red-hands makes a hull-a-ba-loo
Better to be loyal, steadfast, and true."

"That is just the way it is!"

Fury overpowering his common sense at last, James opened his mouth: "Why you little—"

James cut his frustrated yell off with a funny sounding squeal, as he caught sight of Willy out of the corner of his eye. The other man had taken one step forward, fury in his eyes. James turned his head to the side, looking down towards the Oompa-Loompa dance again. The dance was preferable to Willy's wrath!

The Oompa-Loompas continued on, as if there had never been an interruption.

"Oompa-Loompa doom-pa de da
If you don't steal things, you will go far;
You will live in happiness, too,
Like the Oompa-Loompa doom-pa de do!"

James harrumphed in disbelief. Like their way of life was a good thing! There was no way he wanted his life like their life! Of course, the little twerps were too ignorant to realise this. How on earth Willy could stand the creeps had always been beyond James, and this holier-than-thou little display hadn't changed that. As he realised they had reached the end of the song, James felt relief, but to his undisguised horror, they went through the second verse of the chant again, opening up their ranks to allow him access to the corridor. More of them—was every Oompa-Loompa in the place abandoning their posts to take part in this?—took up the entire chant out there, as they harried him along. Willy and Charlie followed sedately.

Ignoring his shouts that they should just shut up, followed by the injustice of being thrown out without a chance to collect his belongings, the Oompa-Loompas chanted James all the way to the Factory door, which he saw was open. At the gate was a wheelbarrow, piled high with items. As the Oompa-Loompas scurried back to their tasks, leaving only Willy and Charlie standing with him, James could make out that the items were his personal possessions.

"We didn't want you leave empty-handed," sniffed Willy. "When you have an address, we'll send the rest. In care of Mr. Slugworth, perhaps?"

"Willy..." James could see the years of his life, being sent on the swirly ride. Willy's face conveyed, with no doubt, how useless pleading would be. James, doing his best at the last to salvage a shred of dignity, headed towards the derelict tableau they had set for him.

Willy, waving from the steps, played Oompa-Loompa, chanting in every language he knew (quite a few) the words 'good-bye' and 'good riddance'. At the gate, James looked back. Charlie, still with that half-wit grin on his face, was standing where James had wanted to stand, beside Willy: not as an assistant, but as the person learning all Willy's secrets. Knowing he'd never be back, James cursed his stupidity for letting his jealously of the ubiquitous teen cloud his judgement. As he closed the gate, with he and his ignominious wheelbarrow on the other side, the two turned their backs on him, and he, on them.

Soon after, with all the locks changed, the Factory forgot the whole affair, and with nary a marring blip on the sales of Wonka confections, life returned to some version of normal.

A few weeks later, Willy and Charlie were stood in a dark room: black walls, dark-blue ceiling, slate floor. The thermostat was set to keep the temperature to just above fridge level. Both were warmly wrapped in thick jackets. Then, at a gesture from Willy, Charlie grabbed a handful of the powder from the brass bowl sitting at his feet. Throwing it down on the ground in front of them, Charlie glanced at Willy, before they both knelt to examine the multi-coloured flames that had burst forth from the impact. The fire was pleasantly warm in the coldness of the room, heating their cold faces, yet not burning hot. Charlie marvelled at the flickering lights of blue, green, purple, and grey, in amongst the oranges and reds. The unusual colours captured his attention. Then Willy reached out a hand, and scooped up two of the dancing flames. Charlie gasped in surprise and alarm.

"It's not that hot, Charlie. It tickles some, but is only slightly warmer than body heat."

Charlie spluttered around a laugh of relief. Sometimes Willy did shock him.

Willy looked at Charlie as the flames began to flicker more weakly, and die. "Do you know, in the aftermath of it all, what strikes me as the most ridiculous thing ever? How Wilkinson could hear us talking about our newest invention, Instant Bonfire Powder, and think that we might be creating a chocolate bar!"

On hearing this proclamation, Charlie fell into helpless giggles. Willy was right. Once you got past the shock of the treachery, the entire misunderstanding was absurd.

Authors Note:

My thanks once again to all who took the time to read this story. Especial thanks, as always, going to those who took the time required to review.

Turrislucidus, yep, I agree, although in the end it did look like James would have abandoned everything, and it was only Slugworth's determination that carried the project through to the end... Maybe he had simply invested too much time and money in the project already to simply let it go? Maybe he was on the edge of bankruptcy and needed something to rescue him from that? Or he could simply be blinded by a jealous rage...

I'm thrilled that you have enjoyed this short tale Linkwonka88. I hope that the comeuppance was satisfying enough!

JOHNHAMMOND1993... I'm thinking that answers your question regarding a demise song. As far as responses to any comments on this last chapter go... 'remember, 'an account is out there!'' ;-)

That is indeed what they get for not doing proper quality control Sonny April. Of course, if James hadn't got the wrong end of the stick in the first place, and if he hadn't reported his erroneous conclusions to Slugworth, the whole sorry mess would never have happened. James and Slugworth were truly (to use the phraseology of Shakespeare's "Hamlet") 'hoist with ones own petard.' I hope you enjoyed the conclusion of this story.

I am due my thanks to my proofreading friend who, when I began to talk about the idea of the Bonfire Powder, began to talk about the image of flames of all different colours, thus, that aspect of this idea doesn't belong to me. Having the flames cool enough to touch may well also belong to her. Ditto, thanks wise, for her help and advice regarding how to word the side-effect jokes to keep this a 'T' rating.

As always, if you recognise it from elsewhere, the chances are it doesn't belong to me.