Disclaimer: I don't own the Power Rangers, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory or Charlie and the Chocolate factory.
Yes, this chapter is extremely short. But, that'show it came out. I just had to mock one of the more annoying songs in the Willy Wonka movie.
Zordon and the Power Chamber
By
Eileen (Psycho Tangerine)
Chapter Nine: Doing the Laundry
"There you are, Dad," stated Trent as he walked into the dilapidated shack. "What in God's name are you doing in here with all those clothes?" He gawked at the older man. "And what are you doing in that dress?"
"Making ends meet by taking in laundry," replied Anton Mercer. "We're barely getting by on the cabbage soup as it is."
Trent rolled his eyes. "We do have a washer and dryer. Besides, we have steak every night, Dad."
"And how do you ever expect me to get that hole in the roof fixed, if I don't make some extra money?" asked the older man as he scrubbed a shirt on a washboard. "Your poor grandparents are going to catch their death of pneumonia."
Trent groaned. "The only 'hole' in that ceiling is the heating vent. My so-called 'grandparents' aren't even human, I doubt they can even catch cold. Besides, we're not destitute. We're just crowded into one room of that mansion for no explicable reason." He grimaced as his father bent a bit too far over the washtub. "And the dress? I know you're both father and mother to me, but this is preposterous.
Mercer did not seem to hear his son's question. "Oh, Trent, I know why you're here. You're upset because three of the golden morphers have been found and you want to find one because you want it more than anyone else."
"Uh, no, actually I came to tell you that Mr. Collins is here for your one o'clock business meeting."
Mercer did not seem to hear this, either. "My poor, poor, poor...but things will get better soon." With that he broke into song: "Cheer up, Trenty. Give me a smile. What happened to that happy boy I used to know..."
Trent clamped his hands on his ears and ran from the shack before he could hear anymore of his father's horrid singing.
