Did you think I could let you read without a pre-interruption to remind you to let me know what you think? Please do. Give me your input, that is. I'm rather worried about being out-of-character this time.

Once again, it was to the sighs of mingled relief and disappointment (respectively from employees and customers) that the door finally closed at seven that evening. Willy stood at the window, waving at the people happily walking away chewing gummy worms, licking lollipops, biting chocolate bars, or nibbling gumdrops. Once the majority had passed beyond view, he hopped to the counter, where the others had congregated. As usual, Doug was reclined on the top, somehow contriving not to lie on any cash registers. That was most fortunate for him, because even as he was mostly out-of-the-way, Courtney was glaring sharpened candy canes (rather than daggers) at him. She, Katherine, Joe, and Joyce had reinstated their money-counting assembly line. This time, though, it was sped up through the assistance of Ally, Fred, Robin, Josie, and Doris, who sat at the end, adding it all up as it came to her. Willy blinked at the display in curiosity.

"You did this yesterafterwards, too, didn't you?" he asked them, quietly so as not to disturb their arithmetic.

"Yeah, they did," Doug muttered. Wonka gave him a quick glance and grin.

"Thank you," he told the others. A joyous smile slid onto his face, and he frolicked off to the back room. Everyone else broke off their counting to share their own glance of amusement. A few second later, Willy's head popped out from the streamers.

"D'you want me to help out with all that stuff?"

"Um, no, that's okay, Willy," Joyce replied between integers.

"Oh, good," he said gratefully, making no effort to voice any insincere regret that he couldn't be of help. And with that, he disappeared again into the creating zone.

With nine sets of hands helping in the cash-sorting, one set being attached to an accountant, things went much faster. By the time the work was finished, the peppermint clock read only eight o'clock. Of course, having begun at five that morning, they were all sleepy anyway.

"I'm almost tempted to go upstairs and find a bed," Ally mumbled to Fred.

"No, no no no no," said Fred, who knew that if she was 'almost tempted,' she would soon be doing something illegal.

"Okay, okay! I wasn't actually going to," Ally replied, sliding down the side of the counter to the floor. She lazily glanced to either side and, finding no sign of excessive filth, stretched out and closed her eyes. Fred looked down at her, with her brown curls already strewn everywhere, and smiled slightly. Then he jerked up his eyes to the back streamers and scratched his head.

"What's Mr. Wonka doing back there?" he asked no one in particular. The four girls, plus Ally's mother, were having some sort of chat by the back room while sipping from very neon cups. They gave him no answer, being too absorbed in whatever they were gossiping about. Joe and Robin, too, were deep in discussion, and of course Doug and Ally were asleep. Deciding that no responses would be forthcoming any time soon, Fred slipped past them all and through the curtain of fluttery strips.

The traditional noises of the room—clicking, dinging, shuffling, whistling, and so forth—were supplemented with soft bird chirps. A distinctly pure chocolaty smell drifted everywhere, replacing the customary mix of fruits, bubblegum, and only some chocolate. Most of the machines at the moment were functioning at close to full-power, though Wonka didn't seem to be monitoring them as closely as usual. He was bent over something on the far end of the long white table, and it did appear to Fred that he was the one tweeting. The boy carefully walked forward, tiptoeing to avoid disrupting whatever magic was taking place this time. Then he stopped and scurried behind a piece of equipment. Someone had tapped The Secret Knock outside. The bird chirps halted, and Mr. Wonka quickly draped his handkerchief over his experiment to dart to the hidden hall. Fred took the opportunity to squirm into a slightly more comfortable position in the space between two chocolate vats. He'd worked out a method for seeing what was going on without having to crane his neck over the tops of the barrels when Wonka popped out of the semi-secret corridor. He was followed by none other than George and Georgina Bucket. Fred slunk back into his hiding-place a little deeper, and peered at his parents. His father, decked out in old brown pants and flannel shirt as usual, was definitely who he appeared to be. The trademark grouchiness gave that away. Georgina, too, could be no one else. Fred easily identified her by that extraordinarily ugly wool hat she loved so. He had to smile, thinking about that hat. The one that had never seen a wash, for fear of rinsing out the memories. The one Fred, as a toddler, had grabbed off his mother's head and started sucking on, which left him with a terrible woolly aftertaste, and her with a visible memorial of her son's teething days. George suddenly 'ahem'-ed.

"Willy," he began slowly and with great sourness.

"Yeah?"

"I'm afraid I must—" George had to pause and suppress his pride. "Apologize for how the—" Pause number two. "Interview went. I daresay I could've been a little—" Pause number three. "More—" Pause number four. "Mature." Georgina patted her husband on the back, though he turned away, muttering under his breath ferociously. Willy's lips twitched so he was almost smiling. He looked terribly smug, before quickly switching to peaceful neutrality.

"Great then. If you'd still like to apply—"

"No! Can we just pick up Fred now, Gina?" George said. Fred, still concealed and quiet, stopped grinning.

"Fine, dear. Mr. Wonka, may we take back our son to go home, or is there more to be done tonight?"

"What do you mean, more to do tonight! It's been longer than fourteen hours, for heaven's sake, Gina! That is undoubtedly illegal! There had better not be 'more to be done tonight!'" George hissed to his wife. She smiled placidly and looked at Willy Wonka.

"No more for Fred to do," he said brightly. "I'll just go get him, and you guys can go in that room and say hi to everybody! All left?"

"All… Right," Georgina replied, herding George through the streamers.

Once they'd departed the room, Willy sprinted over to his experiment, which had begun to peep plaintively halfway through their brief conversation. Fred couldn't see what he was doing over there in the corner, but it seemed to quite effectively soothe the creature.

"Do you want to see him?" Willy asked Fred, suddenly appearing in the gap between chocolate vats. Fred scrambled back in surprise, almost kicking Wonka.

"Very sorry about that, Mr. Wonka," Fred told him once he'd regained his composure.

"Sure thing! So, do you?" Fred scooted out of his cubbyhole and stood.

"See him? Yes please, sir!" he said eagerly. Wonka spun around and tiptoed over to his work in progress. Just before they came to a point to lift the hankie covering it, Willy stopped. Slowly turning and glancing at Fred, he held a hand to his mouth.

"Silence," he cautioned. "He's asleeping. Finally." Fred nodded and lifted a finger to his own lips. Satisfied, Willy slithered behind a table and let Fred take a place in front of it. Slower than seemed possible for one such as Willy Wonka, the candy-man extended one hand. The slight glow from the window merged with the dim emergency lights and luminous buttons on machines, plus a little light filtering through the streamers, to make his apricot-colored skin shine. It was a very strange effect. All at once, he gently pulled off the white cloth and displayed his most recent miracle.

Inside a tiny nest of shredded chocolate, which was created based on something of Doug, was a miniature brown hatchling. It was smaller than a penny, smooth and featherless, composed of milk chocolate. Fred couldn't tell if it was breathing or not, but it was motionless enough to appear just another lump of chocolate, except that it occasionally emitted soft cheeps, and once in a while jerked a wing. Fred peeked at Wonka. He was gazing at his creation in adoration, smiling and whispering to himself. Suddenly Willy glanced at Fred and blinked.

"Innit marvelous?" he said quietly, blanketing the bird again.

"Oh, yes," Fred answered sincerely. "Is it from the skeleton you made this morning?"

"Yep! Turned out pretty good, I think."

"It certainly did," Fred said. Wonka shook himself and slid under the table to join Fred on the other side. With a vibrant grin, he began the trek past the machinery to get to the front room. Fred hurried after him and continued speaking. "Is it alive?" Wonka kept striding onward.

"Sort of," he replied unhelpfully.

"Does it breathe?"

"Not yet. Hey, did you know that slate comes from shale? Or is it the other way around?"

"You mean the bird will breathe eventually?"

"We should make rock candy! Igneous, sedimentary, metamorphic—all of them!"

"I know the bird has a skeleton." By this point, the two had passed the streamers and were continuing their conversation in the front room, just beside Fred's parents. "Does it have other organs?"

"Out of candy? There's a concept. Licorice lungs… Hey, we could even have geological fossil digging candy sites! And canyons and—wow! What about crayons? Whole art kits, and glue! And all tastyful!"

"Then the bird's not alive."

"Sort of." Fred, who was normally a most patient soul, flung up his hands and walked over to the half-sleeping Ally. He nudged her with his foot. She grabbed his ankle and pulled him to the ground beside her.

"So, what'd you find out sneaking to the back room?" she asked curiously, sitting up. Fred started bouncing on the floor with excitement.

"It was incredible! I was—oh. I have to go. See you later, Ally," Fred said, starting to rise to get to his impatient father.

"Actually, I'll come with you. We'll be going soon anyway, since apparently everyone leaves around the same time," Ally told him, pushing herself up on her friend's shoulder. "Everyone but Wonka, at least." They gave him a fleeting look as he waved goodbye to them in a most enthusiastic manner. Before long, the shop was almost entirely deserted, and the employees split company.

"Now, what was it you saw with Wonka?" Ally asked once she and her family and Fred and his were the only ones traveling the sidewalk leading to Rotten Pear Road. The remainder of the stroll was spent in deep discussion regarding chocolate birds. Difficult to see where fifteen minutes could be spent solely in the perusal of such a narrow topic, but Ally and Fred were proof it could be done, much to their parents' amusement.