Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters which belong to Roald Dahl, Warner Bros. Pictures and Tim Burton. There is no intent to gain anything or anyone.

CatCF (movie) Alternate Universe

choc·o·ci·ol·o·gy – n. 1. The study of human chocolate behavior, especially the study of the origins, organization, institutions, and development of chocolate society. 2. Analysis of a chocolate institution or chocolietal segment as a self-contained entity or in relation to chocolate as a whole. o. from choco(late)- (Spanish, from Nahuatl xocolatl : xococ, bitter + atl, water.) + logy, study (Greek – logi see –logy) adapted from sociology by C. Bucket (see sociology)

Chapter Ten – Dissonance and Decisions

Charlie's gentleman fled all the way back to the safety of his home. Standing in the long entry hall on the plush red carpet, he stood shaking and wondered why. Why had he practically run from the boy when just yesterday he had longed to race out and meet him? Why? He hugged himself, feeling a chill despite the warm heat that filled the room. Why? His head hung as he thought he knew. Just as his therapist and his doctor warned him, he had lived alone too long. He was totally clueless about how to interact with someone else, someone normal from out there. Part of him yearned to turn around and go back to face the boy. The stronger part was too afraid. Why? Charlie was just a boy, far smaller than he, who would and could cause him no harm. Once upon a time, he would have known what to say, how to act. Couldn't he do it again?

Taking a shaky breath, the man turned toward the side hallway that led to the stairs and his office. He stepped softly, hoping all the while to not encounter any of his employees. He did not want to explain why he was back early from his walk to his small friends, not if he could help it anyway. Reaching a pair of large carved oak doors, he opened one just enough to slip inside. He closed the door and leaned back on it, his eyes shut, a single crystalline tear sliding down a pale cheek. He'd been doing so well and it seemed strange that it had come undone by a child simply knowing his name. He had come undone. His lips thinned slightly as they fell into a straight line and his head cocked to one side. How had he guessed his name? How had Charlie Bucket figured it out? Willy Wonka shook himself, standing straight. He removed his hat and hung it on the nearby coat stand. He thought about removing his coat, but still feeling that strange chill, left it on. Why was he cold? His factory was always warm, most would consider it hot. He was so very cold.

With a shiver, Willy drifted over to the huge sweep of windows that overlooked the gates of his factory. He leaned against the window seat and stared blankly outside. What had Charlie thought when he'd run away? He felt a stab as he thought his flight might have hurt or scared the boy. Not physically, oh no, but inside where it would truly hurt the most, in his heart, his mind. Willy was quite familiar with that type of pain. He hoped his fears hadn't inflicted them on the child as well. Stupid! He was so stupid! Why had he run? Why was he so cold? When his hand found the soft blanket on the seat beside him, he immediately pulled it up without thinking and wrapped it around himself. He sat, pulling his legs up, tucking them neatly under the promised warmth of the purple wool. He had felt so close, so very close to making a friend out there. Now the boy would not want to be his friend and it was his own stupid fault. Because he was shy and timid and fearful of everything that lay outside the warm, safe comfort of the world he had built inside his factory.

It was so strange out there now. One hand snuck up and pressed against the cool glass of the window. It was going to get really cold soon. He could feel it, almost taste it. But that was Out There. Inside, it was always warm, because he made it that way. His employees, his only friends, did not like the cold. The cold hurt them. Their home had been tropical so he had made his home tropical. For them, just for them, he would do anything in the world for them. His eyes closed again as he remembered the offer and his promise made to their chief and, by extension, the entire tribe. They were the ones who had made his dream real again. They were the reason he could make chocolate and candy once more to send out to the world to make little boys and girls happy. His confections did make them happy, didn't they? He sometimes lay in his bed at night, unable to sleep, wondering. The sales figures said that people liked his candies. But did they make the children happy? Willy desperately wanted to bring a little happiness into the world, especially for the children. It didn't matter if most of them were greedy brats who always wanted more. He was positive that out there, there were still some children who weren't. They weren't greedy. They weren't brats. They didn't want more. They wanted just a little – a little bit of happiness and joy - children like Charlie Bucket. He opened his eyes, but they no longer saw the city spread outside his window.

In the eye of Willy Wonka's mind, he was inside his little candy shop once more. He was so nervous on opening day. It had been a Friday, the first Friday in February. He ran around the shop checking to make sure that everything was clean and in place. As the clock ticked closer to opening, he almost tripped over his own feet as he reviewed the inventory of candies he made the night before and that morning. Clumsy came easily since he hadn't finished growing yet. Five minutes to opening time, he froze, standing in the middle of the shop – his shop! He closed his eyes and took deep breaths and let them out slowly, forcing himself to relax. It would not do to be late opening because he fainted from the excitement. Red leather gloved hands brushed over the matching velvet frock coat, making sure it lay neatly in place. He reached up and checked his top hat, verifying it was there and balanced perfectly on his head of short chocolate curls. He hoped they made him appear older than he was. He did not want eyes looking at him askance, wondering why he wasn't in school! Finding calm, his eyes opened and watched the last seconds tick away.

One minute to opening, Willy raised the shades, letting the winter sunlight into the new store. At nine thirty sharp, Willy Wonka unlocked and opened the front door of the gaily decorated candy shop. He bowed to his first customers, a large smile showing perfect white teeth. "Welcome to Wonka's!" The next twelve hours were a whirlwind of activity that he could never recall clearly. He had sold candy by the bar and the bag and the box. His little cash register rang merrily throughout the day as his stock was depleted. One thing he did remember, very clearly, were the smiles of delight on the people, especially the children, who entered his shop as they tasted the small samples he handed out in between sales. Exactly nine thirty that night, he escorted his last customers of the day out the door. Tired hands locked it and lowered the shades over the windows. He stood in the middle of his candy shop, his stomach growling complaints for he had worked straight through, not stopping for lunch or dinner or anything else. Willy turned around to survey his surroundings and saw that he had a lot of work to do if he was to have enough to sell the next day.

After quickly eating the sandwich he made for lunch, he briefly visited the bathroom to refresh himself. Willy removed his coat, pulled on an apron and turned his hands to creating more chocolate and candy treats. He hummed happily as he worked. He went to bed at midnight, falling immediately into a well earned sleep, only to rise again at four thirty in the morning to produce even more candies. That first Saturday convinced the young chocolatier that he could not continue running his shop alone. If he tried, he was going to find himself continually running out of stock before the day was over! He would also probably fall out from exhaustion eventually, even if he did feel like bouncing with energy at the moment. As he carefully counted the day's take, he was surprised to realize how much money he had made in just two days time. With a warm smile, he set to work making a sign for the window in his best flowing script. Help Wanted! The red marker moved carefully and neatly across the white poster board. Friendly, personable person needed to run counter and help with stock. Apply within between 8:00 and 9:30 in the morning, 9:30 and 10:00 in the evening. At that moment, Willy Wonka could never guess how his little shop was going to grow and flourish.

Willy's iolite eyes blinked open and his mouth rounded in mild surprise. He wondered if he could calm himself like that again. It might not work meeting an adult out there, but surely if he did the breathing exercise thing he could manage to exchange a few intelligible words with a child, with Charlie! A look of hope appeared on his face, and then faded. What if Charlie didn't want to talk to him again? After all, he had run away from him without a word. He picked at the blanket where it wrapped his knees. He supposed that, maybe, he should, well, apologize to Charlie. How? Gosh darn it! He was so bad when it came to talking to people now. He hadn't spoken to anyone out there except for that nasty lawyer (which had left a very bad, horrible taste in his mouth) in years and years and years. (He wished he hadn't talked to that man because it had reminded him of all the reasons why he didn't want to talk to people out there any more.) All of his business transactions were done in writing, in letters and emails and contracts and invoices and bills of lading and purchase orders. Even his banking and taxes and audits were all done in written correspondence.

He couldn't remember the last time he had actually picked up a phone and called outside the complex. He wasn't even sure he had a working phone line any more since that high speed stuff that didn't require a phone had become available for internet access. (He reminded himself to ask Doris if he still had an outside line. If anyone would know, it was her. She kept track of practically everything for him!) The internet had simplified things tremendously. It also made him feel somewhat less of a freak since lots of people now conducted their business through it.

In fact, there were times when Willy wondered if he even remembered how to speak English. It was English, wasn't it? He frowned in thought before brightening again. Yes, he had taught many of his workers how to speak and understand English, not any of the other languages he had known once upon a time. They generally didn't talk in it, which was why he felt so out of practice, but they almost always sang songs to him in English.

All well and good, but it didn't solve giving Charlie an apology for his rude behavior. He couldn't send him an email because the boy didn't have a computer. He supposed he could send a letter, but that might make his p- p- p- … THEM, his mom and dad, wonder. He could get one of his workers to sneak it into Charlie's bedroom, but that seemed impolite and slightly frivolous. He needed to save the sneaky stuff for important things like repairing that poor little broken down house. Still, apologies were important. In some ways, they were extremely important. He supposed he could just hand it to him when they met in the park, if Charlie (and his own fears) would let him near enough to hand something over. But if he did that, he really should just say it. Speak out loud. Converse as it were. Talk.

A soft tap on his door drew Willy's attention away from his thoughts. He stood up, walked over and opened the door. His eyes immediately and automatically went down to see one of his employees standing there. He went down on one knee so they were closer to face to face. "Yes," he signed in his workers' language, "what is it, Toupa?"

Toupa, who was called Roger in English, leaned forward to whisper into his employer's ear, gesturing. "The coats are ready. So are the hats and gloves."

"Good. Very good," Willy gestured. "It will be extremely cold soon." He paused in thought for a moment. "What about socks?" Thick, warm, soft, fluffy wool socks to keep feet nice and toasty and comfy. He hated cold feet which was why he always wore thick, soft, fluffy wool socks. His boots were made for thick socks and, amazingly, his feet had never overheated.

Roger crossed his arms and bowed. "We can have a couple of pairs ready for each Bucket in a day."

"Excellent!" Willy clapped his hands in delight. They would be ready before that cold front moved into the city. His mouth opened as a thought struck him. Here was a way to send an apology to Charlie! "I would like to see the coats."

"Right away, Coompa-Ka," Roger crossed him arms and bowed again. Just as Willy had given English names to all the Oompa-Loompas, they had given him names in their language. Coompa-Ka was the name the Oompa-Loompas had given Willy after coming to his factory and seeing what he did. It meant Sweet-Cocoa-Maker. Actually, Willy had been given several names, but that seemed to be his favorite one. Most of the others made him turn pink and try to hide. The Oompa-Loompas only brought them all out on major ceremonial occasions. Sometimes they had to trick Willy into attending which they found very amusing.

While Willy waited for Roger to return with the coats, he pulled out a pad of paper and proceeded to try and form an apology. Dear Master Charlie… No, that was much too formal and weird. Dear Mister Bucket sounded like he was writing to Charlie's f-f-fa… his dad. Dear Charlie. He hoped that wasn't too forward. They hadn't even been formally introduced yet. Willy scratched his head with his pencil. Simple, just keep it simple!

Dear Charlie,

I apologize for my behavior. May we try again?

Sincerely,

W

Willy considered the words. It was certainly simple enough and it said what he wanted it to say. Was it enough? Was just signing a W wrong? Should he sign it Willy or Willy Wonka? But if he did that and someone else, someone not Charlie, saw it they would realize he was leaving the factory. He didn't think he was ready for that yet. Especially if it was one of those no-good, thieving, candy copying, candy maker cads or one of their spies! Willy shuddered at the thought. He didn't know which were worse, his rival candy makers or the spies that did their dirty work. He deliberately blanked the thought of the black day he had been forced to close his factory down. Part of him felt nauseous. An echo of an old pain stabbed through his head. He shook himself to remove the memory. He didn't have time for this right now. He quickly copied the note out in pen on a piece of unmarked stationery. Searching the center drawer of his large oak desk for an envelope without the Wonka logo, he found a clear box of everlasting gobstoppers. He had been working on the gobstoppers for a little over a year and still wasn't quite ready to release them to the public. Still, the last batch was extremely tasty. He looked them over and picked out one that was creamy white. It tasted like vanilla mint crème and was one of his favorite flavored gobstoppers. He wrapped the candy in red cellophane and then almost wrapped his note over it.

Willy hesitated in thought and added a postscript to his note to Charlie. Do not bite or chew on the gobstopper. It will break your little teeth. He checked his pockets and pulled out a lavender and gold ribbon. He didn't have a clue where he had gotten it from, but it would serve to finish tying up the gobstopper into a neat little package.

The candy maker looked up as Roger and two other Oompa-Loompas entered with the new coats in their arms. "Splendid! Bring them here," he signed. He examined each coat and praised them for their fine work. They were sure to keep their new owners warm and snug even in the worst winter storm. As Willy turned to his desk to get the gobstopper and note for Charlie, the sound of drums came over the factory's speaker system. His head tilted to one side as he listened to the summons and he frowned slightly. The beat said there was a minor emergency and told him where he was needed in the factory. Remembering how many minor emergencies managed to crop up when the weather outside changed drastically and how some things had been allowed to slide recently, he grabbed his pen to add yet another post script. Please forgive me. It may be awhile before we will meet again. There is a lot of work to be done at the moment. I hope to speak with you soon. He quickly wrapped his note around the candy and wrapped the ribbon around the edges of the paper to hold it in place. He finished it with a neat bow and slid the little package into the inside pocket of Charlie's new jacket. He zipped it up and crossing his arms, bowed to his workers. "Please hurry with the socks. Everything must be delivered within the next two days. It will get really cold on the second night. Check with the weather prognosticators if you wish." He paused to add before he headed for the door to handle the latest problem. "I think the first snowfall is coming."