Disclaimer: I am not one of the lucky copyright holders of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in its many forms. I don't own anything at all. But I do hope you find this just for fun, not for profit, perhaps elucidating, gentle parody, entertaining.

Short and sweet, I wanted to get this up today, because... it's the eleventh... of February! But work beckons so there may be typos, etc... Thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you again to dionne dance, Squirrela, and LiviahEternal for your reviews.

The morning of February 11th dawned gloriously sunny. After the gloom of the previous week, it was a welcome change, but the snow that had threatened the previous day had finally fallen after midnight. The day's bright sunshine was gloriously reflecting off two inches of new snow.

The snow blanketing the town made it look fresh and clean, but it also made leaving early, and shoveling the sidewalk, a necessity. So Grandpa Joe and Charlie left the little Bucket house early for their rendezvous at the factory, and Terence shoveled the sidewalk in front of his shop.

Mr. and Mrs. Bucket stood in the snow by the gate, side-by-side, each with one arm around the waist of the other, sending their dear ones on their way with a wave. There had been some discussion about accompanying them to the Factory, but, for a reason they couldn't put their finger on, it didn't seem like the right thing to do. Mrs. Bucket had decided that keeping to her daily routine would distract her from how un-routine the day really was, and Mr. Bucket had welcomed the new snow as added revenue, shoveling snow being the only way to make ends meet, since Smilex had let him go. He would spend the day in that pursuit.

An uneasiness was nibbling around the edges of Mrs. Bucket's consciousness. Her son and her father-in-law were getting smaller as they moved up the hill, but the Factory loomed as large as ever.

"Are we doing the right thing, Noah?" she asked. "That Factory is so big, and they are so small."

Mr. Bucket gave her waist a squeeze. "It's no bigger than it was yesterday, Nora."

"But yesterday, it was just an idea you could think about, or not. Yesterday, it was just a part of the background. Today, it's real." She shifted on her feet, and stepped away. "I'm worried."

Mr. Bucket's face was distant, and his answer was strange, and disquieting. "That Factory sure did chew up and spit out those other children, didn't it." It wasn't a question. Mr. Bucket was daring to allow himself to imagine Willy Wonka's giant Chocolate Factory chewing up and spitting out the managers at Smilex who had let him go.

"That's not helping, dear," came Mrs. Bucket's dry response.

Mrs. Bucket was thinking about dominoes; how the choices you made day after day set them up, and how, from nowhere, something happened to knock them down. Sometimes it was only one that went down; sometimes it was more. Sometimes they all fell, and everything you ever thought, and everything you ever knew was true, changed forever. Charlie's Golden Ticket was such a small thing, but in her mind, she could hear the dominos, starting to fall.

Mr. Bucket looked down at his wife's concerned face; the face of the woman he treasured most in the world. He didn't know why, but he didn't feel concerned at all. Without another thought, he picked up his lady and spun with her in a complete circle, kicking up the snow in the process, and knocking loose a cabbage.

Mrs. Bucket laughed in spite of herself, as Mr. Bucket put her down. He hadn't been like this in ages. She scooped up the cabbage, to bring inside.

"It will all be fine, my dear," Mr. Bucket assured her. "Don't you worry about a thing. It will all be fine. I'm sure of it." He took her by the elbow, and they walked into the house.

Terence's shoveling, and Grandpa Joe's and Charlie's walking, intersected half-way up the hill.

Terence was resting on his shovel as he saw them approaching. He waved, and Charlie waved back. "Come on in," he called. "Warm up."

"That's Mr. Wonka's friend, Terence," Charlie whispered up to his Grandpa Joe, "and that's his shop."

"We can't miss that then, can we," Grandpa Joe, whispered back, patting Charlie's hand. "Let's go in. I could use the rest."

Once inside, Grandpa Joe and Terence introduced themselves, Terence discovering that Charlie's last name was 'Bucket', and Charlie discovering that Terence's last name was a secret. "If I tell you," Terence said, "you'll start calling me 'Mr.' won't you? If you don't know, you'll have to call me Terence. So, please, both of you, I'm just plain Terence."

Grandpa Joe smiled. "Okay, plain Terence, have it your way. Do you really know Mr. Wonka? I used to work for him."

Charlie wasn't really interested in last names, and he already knew the answer to the question his Grandpa had asked. He only wanted to know one thing, and he spoke right up. "Are you going to come with us to the factory?"

Terence held up both hands. "One at a time please," he said, convivially. "Age before less age." He turned to Grandpa Joe. "I knew Willy years ago, fairly well, but not for long. He helped me polish up my reading, and I can tell you that he is an excellent teacher." He turned to Charlie. "The answer to your question is - not today. He warned me off pretty throughly before you arrived at the shop, and I didn't get an invitation when he stopped by on his way home, either. I think the better part of valor is to make myself scarce today. But I know you and your Grandpa will have a great time."

Charlie didn't understand. "He warned you off?"

Terence knew it would be hard to explain. "There was a lot of talk about walls, and doors, and doors being walls, and going out not being the same as coming in. It all meant don't ask, wait for an invitation. I don't take it personally, and neither should you. Willy does his best, and I've always found him a generous person. Where are your mother and father?"

Charlie squirmed. "They thought they shouldn't come. Mr. Wonka said bring one member of my family, and he wanted Grandpa Joe."

"Okay, then." Smiling, Terence gave Charlie a wink. "We'll let Willy have it his way today, shall we?"

Charlie nodded, and smiled back.

Terence looked at the time. "You folks better be on your way. You don't want to be late, Willy absolutely hates that! It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bucket."

"Oh no you don't" said Grandpa Joe, emphatically. "If we're to call you Terence, then you call me Joe."

"All right then, Joe. Stop by on your way home, if you like. My door will be open." And Terence waved them on their way.

Mr. Wonka sat in the red velvet chair the Oompa-Loompas had arranged for the 'Welcome Song' while he waited. Having declined the honor on February first, he felt it only fair to avail himself of the option today. Now, on the eleventh, the chair was the only vestige left of the earlier 'Welcome Song' display.

At 09:58, Mr. Wonka got up from chair, and opened the middle of the three main entry doors. At 09:59, he stepped outside and walked to the center of the snowy courtyard. At 10:00, he signaled that the main gates be partly opened. At 10:01, Charlie Bucket and his Grandpa Joe stepped on to the Factory grounds, hand in hand. By 10:02, the Factory gates were closed.

The small ceremony was accomplished with no announcement, and no fanfare. The few people passing when the gates opened were so surprised, they could only stop and stare. If Charlie had known the word, he would have thought it was all surreal. But he didn't know that word, so he just held his breath, barely able to believe where he was. Grandpa Joe squeezed Charlie's hand reassuringly, as he smiled down at him. It was all very remarkable, but Grandpa Joe had been here before.

Mr. Wonka looked just the way he had last night. He was wearing the same black top hat, the same black great-coat, the same purple gloves, and he carried the same glass, candy-filled cane. He stood with the cane centered in front of him, both hands resting on it. But today, in the bright sunshine, made all the brighter by the new snow, he was wearing the purple rimmed goggle-style sunglasses that Charlie hadn't seen the night before. Charlie thought Mr. Wonka looked kinda funny, but in a good way. It was the sunglasses that did it. Otherwise, he just looked old-fashioned.

Mr. Wonka was smiling, and he looked happy. Charlie had already noted the night before that the two didn't always go together. "Welcome to my Factory," Mr. Wonka said, as they approached him. "Charlie, it's good to see you again. I'd like to take this opportunity to point out, that if you don't breathe, you'll pass out." Agreeing with himself, Mr. Wonka added a quiet, "Yeah." Charlie exhaled with a laugh, as he heard Mr. Wonka say, "Grandpa Joe, sir, welcome back."

The pleasantries dispensed with, Mr. Wonka eyed the small crowd gathering at the gates. "Shall we go in before this side-show gets out of hand? Wonderful!" Mr. Wonka turned and hurried up the steps. Charlie and Grandpa Joe followed him inside.