Anna Bliss aka Ivy B: Thank you so much!
AWESOME: It was intentional, and no problem at all. Thank you for reviewing.
The Liar and the Honest: A few days late, but I guess you could consider it a late present.
In retrospect, perhaps Mike should have anticipated this. He wasn't sure why it came as such a surprise. Of COURSE the chocolate river led to the fudge boiler. How could he have possibly missed that? Now he was going to die because of his stupid mistake! (Oh, yeah, and Violet, too.)
Even from several hundred feet away, Mike could feel the heat on his face. He had seconds to think his way out of this predicament. Augustus had only survived because there had been Oompa Loompas to catch him on the other end. They would not be so lucky.
Yet, despite the obvious tense situation, Violet was able to keep her cool. "Alright, what now, genius?"
"Let think."
"You better think quickly!"
"Shut up!" But it true. He couldn't afford to waste any time. Every second counted. Literally.
Unfortunately for Mike, he had overestimated the time they had left. Suddenly, he and Violet were thrown into a hellhole of boiling chocolate.
The fudge was even thicker and harder to swim through than the river. It clung to Mike skin and weighed him down. The Fudge was warm, but not hot. So it must have been left to cool. This was a huge relief. Now came the issue of getting out.
Mike groped blindly in an attempt to find some sort of wall to grab on to. He couldn't find one. Beginning, to panic, Mike had to force himself to remain calm. Okay, Mike. You've gotten yourself out of worse messed than this. You can figure this out. Just use logic and –
A strong hand grabbed Mike by his shirt collar and pulled him out of the fudge. The hand belonged to Violet Beauregard. That meant it was at least the second time that day he was saved by a girl. Damn it.
Mike coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe normally.
"You're pathetic," Violet said, wiping the chocolate off of her clothes. Her eyes widened. "SKIPPY!" Violet jumped back into the fudge. She swam and dug and called for the ferret without a response. Violet climbed out and began to cry.
"Yeah, and I'M pathetic," Mike mumbled. Violet punched him.
"It's all your fault!" she said, pointing her finger accusingly at Mike.
"How is it my fault that your stupid ferret is dead? He probably drowned back in the river."
Another punch. "He's not stupid! You didn't remind me! Now he's gone and it's all your fault!" Violet did an angry karate-style kick at the fudge container. The giant tin bowl shuddered. Violet kicked it again, making a significant dent.
Mike tried to pull her away, insisting that the Oompa Loompas would return in no time, but she persisted her kicking and screaming. The more he persisted, the more violent she grew, at one point going as far as trying to bite him.
"Fine," he said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Stay here if you want. See if I care." And he really didn't. Not in the least. If she wanted to be stupid, he would let her. He could fair just fine on his own.
"Don't you dare!" she said, her eyes glowing like a predatory cat. "You're helpless without me."
Mike laughed, albeit a bit uneasily. "You honestly think that? Look at yourself! You're crying over a stupid rodent."
"I'm not crying and it's a WEASEL!"
"Weasel. Rodent. Ferret. Squirrel. I don't care either way. Come if you want, or stay here. Just don't come crying to me when they turn you into a grapefruit or whatever."
To his surprise, she shut up and nodded. "Let's go."
The rooms they walked through seemed to grow stranger at every turn. Whether it be pink sheep, lemonade-filled swimming pools or strawberry juice water pistols, Mike did his best to pay them little attention. The last thing he needed was a distraction.
"Hey, Violet," Mike said, "How are we going to get back for the others?"
"The others?" she laughed. "I'd almost forgotten about them. What about the others? It's not my fault that they were too chicken to go into the chocolate river. Let them find their own way back."
"But . . . " he turned around and stared back hesitantly. Violet was right. Mike didn't know why he should care. It felt dishonorable to just leave them. "But we said we'd go back for them."
Violet snorted. "I never said that. I said if they were lucky. Now, come on."
It seemed that she had grown even colder after the death of her ferret. On the bright side, at least she wasn't kicking him anymore.
"What's your middle name?"
"Why do you care?"
Mike shrugged. "I'm trying to start a conversation. We've been walking for hours and it's boring as hell. So what is it? Abigail? Addison? Amanda?"
"No. No. And no. It's Victoire."
"Victor? Isn't that a boy name?"
She scoffed at his obvious stupidity. "Victoire, dummy. It's French."
Mike thought for a few moments, letting the words sink in. It didn't make any sense. "It doesn't begin with an A?"
"No, Mike. It's a silent A. Seriously? Where do you even get your ideas?"
"The wall. The chocolate one, I mean. Veruca and I – I mean, it was one of the first things we saw. Augustus had eaten through it, hadn't he? And it was you who wrote VAB on the wall."
"Me? It was there when I came. I though maybe it stood for 'Veruca and' something. At least that's what I figured after we met up with you guys. But the answer's pretty obvious, isn't it?"
" . . . No."
"Vlady? Vladik Alexeyich Belinsky." She paused, then added, "duh."
"Oh." Well now he felt stupid. "Yeah, I knew that."
"Of course you did."
"I - -" Mile stopped. "Do you hear that?" There was a muffled screaming sound. It sounded vaguely familiar. "Come on."
"No! We can't afford to get distracted, Mike."
"Just give me one second." He ducked into a room, fairly certain that he was out of his mind. What was he doing? Why was he so drawn to the call? Mike knew that what he was dong was illogical, but he couldn't help but feel pulled in.
They stopped once the voice was loud enough to understand.
"Hello? Can anyone hear me? Get me out of here!" It was high pitched and small, unlike the voice of anyone Mike was sure he knew. Still, the feeling of familiarity was unshakable.
"It's in here," Violet said.
He followed her into a room which was, oddly, devoid of the usual gaudy and meretricious decoration found in Wonka's rooms. In fact, it was pure white and featureless, save for a single device that looked like a giant mirror. On top of the mirror said the words: Parallel Dimension-ifier. It didn't take a genius to understand what it did.
A machine that took people to different parallel universes? The idea seemed farfetched, even for Wonka. He would have to create a wormhole through space and time . . . possibilities would be endless. No doubt he probably used it for some stupid candy contraption.
"Is anyone there?" the voice called. "Help me! Help me!"
"Mike, I think it's coming from inside the—"
"I know." I should walk away, he thought. I should walk away and forget all about this room. But he couldn't. How could he possibly miss an opportunity like this? Interdimensional travel, it was the stuff of science fiction. Now it wasn't even about the voice.
Violet seemed to understand what he was thinking and looked worriedly at the device. "We should go. . . "
No doubt there was some sort of terrible after effect from the machine, but at this point, just about anything was worth it. To think, he could be the first person to travel to alternate dimensions. What a college thesis that would be!
"I'm going in," he said.
"You're an idiot."
He paid her no attention. Mike put his hand on the device. Surprisingly, it went right through. He wiggled his fingers. "Hey, Violet, look! I'm in two dimensions at once!"
"Mike, stop it now!"
Mike ignored her. Ducking to be sure not to hit his head, Mike stepped into the machine. It felt like walking through a waterfall, only without getting wet. A weird feeling, but Mike didn't have time to dwell on it.
The room he was in, like the other, was almost entirely white and was quite similar to the one here was in before, which would explain why he mistook it for a mirror at first.
A bench was off to the side with a lady passed out on it. She wore some sort of white jumpsuit and did not wake up when Mike called out.
"Hello? Please help me! I can't get out!"
"Where are you?"
The voice stopped, seeming surprised that someone had actually replied. "In here. It's dark. I can't . . . oh, get me out!"
Mike was running out of patience. "I can't get you out if I don't know where you are."
"In the purse!"
Purse? Mike looked down and, sure enough, there was a purse on the floor near the unconscious woman, probably hers. If whoever was calling him was inside the purse, then Mike wasn't so sure he wanted to let him out. What if it was a trap? The possibility seemed more than likely. Plus, the lady was kind of starting to freak him out.
"How big are you?"
"Four foot five. I don't know how big I am now."
"Sorry?"
"You see, there was this thing . . . it's kind of a long story. Just get me out of here!" The voice started screaming and Mike was pretty sure he saw the sides of the purse move, as if he were pounding on them. "Let me out!"
"Are you an Oompa Loompa?"
"No," he laughed. "How would an Oompa Loompa fit in here, anyway?"
Mike examined the purse. An Oompa Loompa could probably fit in their, although it would be somewhat of a stretch. Maybe later he would experiment on one himself.
"Please. I'll . . . I'll do anything. We could be partners. Equals. I don't know what they're going to do to me. Please, just let me out! Please! I need to watch The Wild Wild West and The Adventure of Jim Bowie and . . . and Boots and Saddles."
Wow. "If I let you out, will you shut the hell up!"
"Yes!"
"Fine." Careful not to wake the sleeping woman, even though that seemed doubtful, Mike tiptoes over to the bag, putting his hand inside somewhat tentively. When he felt something grad onto it, Mike lifted it out. He nearly screamed. There was a boy in his hand, no more than three inches tall!
"Thanks, Partner!" he said happily. There was a slight southern accent in his voice.
"How . . . how old are you?"
"Ten. I'll be eleven in three weeks. The year after that, Pa's getting me a real gun. You?"
" . . . Fourteen. Let me guess, you tried Wonka Vision?" He wondered if Willy was letting other kids into the factory again. Maybe he had grown tired of Charlie.
"You bet! Pretty great stuff, right?"
Despite the kid's annoyingness, Mike couldn't help but feel kind of bad for him. He had no idea what was to come and soon he would be in the taffy stretcher like him. The thought of someone going through that when it could possibly be avoided was just sickening.
He took a close look at the kid. Like the woman, he wore a white jumpsuit with a hood that covered his head. A pair of thick sunglasses were propped on top, presumably for the same eye protection the ones he wore granted him in the TV Room. Once again, he wondered what the kid was doing here. He had a sneaking suspicion, but it seemed to farfetched to be real. Still, he decided to make sure.
"Hey, kid," he said. "What's your name?"
"Mike. Mike Teavee."
Honestly, I debating taking this turn because it presented a few issues. If you like this incorporation, be sure to let me know. If not, I'll move on as quickly as possible.
Suggestions, as always are welcome.