Chili and the Chocolate Factory: Fudge Revelation Chapter 19: The Invitation, a charlie and the chocolate factory fanfic

"Is it a boy?"

The doctor did not answer. He had moments ago delivered a baby, and this time not by mail, which had gotten him in heaps of trouble at the last hospital he worked at.

He had done everything right. The birth had gone smoothly, and he didn't have to cut anyone's tummy open, and there was only a little poo on his shoes and usually there was much more poo.

He was holding the baby. He wondered what he was supposed to do next. He remembered that the people on the instruction tapes had mentioned this. If nobody was bleeding out, and nobody was this time, he was supposed to see if the baby was breathing and wipe it up a little, check again for poo, and hand it to the mommy and the daddy so they could feel the feeling.

He was holding the baby, and he tried to check if it was breathing and he could not. He did not know if the baby was breathing and he did not know if the baby wasn't breathing.

The people from the tapes brought up breathing very frequently. It was all the rage with babies. They did not explain how to tell if one wasn't breathing, only what to do.

If they were a five hundred dollar value, why hadn't they taught him how to tell?

"Is it a girl? It's a girl, isn't it?"

He realized that he was holding a broken baby. He had held babies that weren't broken and it wasn't like this. They were like grocery bags with heartbeats, but he did not feel like he was holding a grocery bag with a heartbeat. He felt like he was holding a broken baby.

He didn't know if the mommy or daddy could tell. They were bound to find out when he handed it over and it would be back to the mail room with him. No one would care that he watched all the tapes twice, they only wanted him to have a silly piece of paper.

Maybe they wouldn't want it? No, they would. It was their first time having a baby. Once he had brought cookies to a dinner party and everyone had to have at least one, except the people who were on a diet. It was like that. The mommy couldn't have been on a diet with how big her tummy was.

"I am holding a baby," he said.

"Yes," said the daddy. "We know."

It was working! They didn't know he broke the baby! He only had to keep the charade up until they forgot about it and left.

"I had a hard time making it," said the mommy. "I want to hold it so I can tell it that I love it. Can I hold it, doctor?"

The doctor frowned. Love was always giving him trouble.

"No," said the doctor. "I need to perform a test."

"A test?" asked the daddy. "What kind of test? Is the baby okay?"

"I screwed it up," said the mommy. "I knew it would come to this. I mess everything up."

The doctor thought about blaming the mommy and telling her that she broke the baby, but decided that it wouldn't be right. He was about to confess that he broke their daughter until he thought about what he was about to confess.

They had a daughter. They had a daughter! He did know what it was! He was wrong about it being broken. He only needed to be inventive with his wording.

"Forget the test," said the doctor. "You have a daughter!"

He was excited. The mail room again grew distant in his mind.

"You have a daughter!" he exclaimed. "You have a breathing daughter! You have a healthy breathing daughter!"

"Good," said the daddy. "We wanted the breathing kind. All the cool babies are doing it."

The doctor gave the baby over to the daddy. As he did he saw the daddy search the baby's eyes and become quiet. He knew that the daddy was having the same problem he had.

"You have a daughter," reminded the doctor.

The daddy shook his head. "Yes," he said. "I have a daughter. I have a healthy daughter. I love her."

He handed it over to the mommy. It happened again. The daddy put his hand on the mommy's shoulder. "We have a daughter. We have one wonderful daughter."

"Yes," she said. "Her name will be."

She did not finish, but not for the purposes for art. She could not finish. The doctor helped her.

"You have a daughter," he said. "You love her. You love…"

The mommy smiled. "I love my daughter Mahuika."

Mrs. Jewel was holding Mahuika, who she had loved consistently for one year. Mr. Jewel was sitting next to her, holding little Marama, who was cheerfully gnawing on a bloody telescope. They all were facing towards a much more comfortable chair where a woman listened to them speak.

"Something is wrong," said Mr. Jewel. "Something is wrong and she refuses to talk about it."

"Nothing is wrong," said Mrs. Jewel. "Nothing is wrong and he keeps wanting to talk about it."

"Mr. Jewel," said the woman. "What do you think is wrong?"

"Nothing," said Mrs. Jewel.

The woman frowned.

"Mrs. Jewel," she said. "Maybe something is wrong, and maybe something is not. Conversing about it will not harm anything."

"I am a good mother," she said. "I have two wonderful daughters and I love them both."

Mrs. Jewel knew she was a good mother because she knew what a good mother was not. When she grew up her house was filled with screaming and throwing and two people who did not ever give her the feeling and told her it was her fault. Mr. Jewel was the first person to give the feeling to Mrs. Jewel and it helped her learn why being alive was tolerable.

She was not going to cheat her children out of the feeling like she had been. They were going to feel the feeling everyday and she was going to prove that it meant something. If she did it right they were going to give her the feeling back one day and it was going to make up for the wait.

Nothing was wrong. She loved Mahuika, she read to Makuika, she sang to Makuika. She gave Mahuika her vitamins and burped her and fed her and always remained patient. All she had to do was wait and she would feel the feeling.

"I have never seen Mahuika smile," said Mr. Jewel. "I have never heard her cry. Marama is two months old but she laughs and cries and has already assassinated three astronomers. The books give lists of what Mahuika should be doing by now and I have not seen her doing any of it."

"Have you witnessed any developmental delays yourself, Mrs. Jewel?"

"I'm not a bad mother," she said. Her voice was croaksunk. "I love her. I want the best for her."

"I never said that you didn't," said Mr. Jewel.

"We know you do," said the woman. "She is…"

The woman stopped and cleared her throat.

"We know you love her," she continued.

"I never hurt her," said Mrs. Jewel. "I did everything right."

"It isn't a matter of right or wrong. I speak to many people in your situation, and they care about their children as much as you do. All this means is that Mahuika needs extra attention and care now, when it can make the biggest difference."

"I broke her," said Mrs. Jewel. "It's my fault. I ruined her life."

"You didn't," said Mr. Jewel.

"You didn't," said the woman. "This isn't a matter of doing right or wrong. Her life would not be ruined if we didn't discover this soon enough for early intervention, and we did."

"Early intervention?"

"Ear-ly intervention," stressed the woman. "The ear candles will remove the toxins."

The ear candles did not remove the toxins.

Over the next year, Mr. and Mrs. Jewel went to meetings with people who told them that they knew what was wrong with Mahuika and how they would fix it. Mrs. Jewel hated the meetings, but she wanted to be a good mother. If her daughter needed help, she was going to provide it.

There were many ways to help, according to the people at the meetings. Pills and therapy were a popular suggestion, as were chocolate incense and royal jelly exposure. Some thought she needed potassium or fresh fruit or larger ear candles. One man ordered them to fashion a necklace made from potatoes and have Mahuika wear it.

They tried everything. The potatoes failed to take root, the chocolate incense went up in smoke, and the candles caused a wicked catastrophe. It was all fruitless except for the fresh fruit but that didn't work either.

At one meeting a man told them a true story about a baby who was born to a woman who had three other babies who all died. The baby was sickly and frail and the mother was terrified that he would die, but she prayed and he lived. The man asked if she thought that was good and Mrs. Jewel said yes and the man screamed and told them that the baby was Adolf Hitler. Mr. Jewel asked him what the point of the story was and he told them that they didn't understand subversive storytelling.

They stopped going to meetings.

Seven months after her third daughter Makareta was born, Ms. Jewel was doing laundry when she heard a bloodcurdling scream from the room where her children were playing. She took ten more minutes to finish folding towels and grab a cup of tea before strolling over to check on them.

An old woman in a topcoat was on the floor, dead. She had a towel wrapped around her nose and mouth. Marama was standing over her head holding an empty bucket, and Maraketa was dutifully taking notes with a crayon from the comfort of her high chair.

A nearby bed supported Mahuika, who silently stared at the corpse.

Marama dropped the bucket and smiled. "I did it, mommy! A hundred! A hundred astronomers!"

"I'm proud of you, Marama," said Mrs. Jewel. "But remember what we talked about with daddy? We only waterboard astronomers on the patio. We don't want the floors getting dirty."

"Sorry," she said. "I forgot."

"It's okay," said Mrs. Jewel. She pinched Marama's cheek. "Did you let your sisters help like I asked?"

She nodded. "Makareta threw a book at her!"

"Learning," said Makareta.

"Lovely," said Mrs. Jewel. She wasn't worried about Makareta. "And what about Mahuika?"

Marama frowned. "She…"

Marama looked at her older sister. "I tried."

Mrs. Jewel sighed and slumped her shoulders.

Marama walked up to her leg and hugged it. "Don't be sad, mommy."

"I am not," she lied. "I need more sleep. Your next sister is already kicking with economic savvy."

Marama looked deep into her eyes.

Mrs. Jewel saw that her daughter was trying to make her feel the feeling. She wanted to feel the feeling but she knew she didn't deserve it. Good mothers deserved to feel the feeling and she was not a good mother. She failed her first daughter, and until she could have all her daughters feel the feeling for themselves she refused to feel it on her own.

Mrs. Jewel's mouth created sounds forming words. She tried to make Marama feel the feeling without feeling the feeling herself, but no one ended up feeling anything.

"I can't thank you enough," said Mrs. Jewel as she walked through the door to her house and handed the young sitter her evening's pay. "If you want to do this again next time-"

"Always," said Villemain. "Anytime."

Mrs. Jewel was happy to have found Villemain. Mr. and Mrs. Jewel did not have many date nights, mostly owing to the difficulty attached in locating a qualified sitter. Five normal children could be a handful, but her girls offered a greater challenge than most contenders could rise to meet.

One sitter had refused to invest in Mariana's latest startup. Although he made it through the first evening, he never answered Mrs. Jewel's calls to return, too embarrassed to show his face around the one year old after her business made it to the Fortune 500. Another was too starstruck by Manaia's status as the most popular three month year old influencer on the planet to feed her dinner. Three others were too intimidated by Makareta's intellectual prowess to allow her to lecture them on the history of babysitting, and three more were roasted alive by Marama after she discovered they were disguised astronomers trying to avenge their fallen colleagues.

Most left because of Mahuika. They never said why, but Mrs. Jewel knew. They thought it was sad, the entire situation. Too sad to be around and think about when life was short.

Villemain always invested, listened to the lectures, received influence, and allowed Marama to try and pull her face off to see if she was wearing a mask. She never did anything with Mahuika, but that was how it went. All she needed to be able to do was tolerate her, and Villemain did.

Mr. Jewel walked in behind Mrs. Jewel. Villemain had been there to greet them at the door with Mariana and Makareta. He pointed to Mariana's mouth.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It is a vape pen," said Villemain. "I asked Mrs. Jewel if I could give them to the children before you left. They have been vaping all evening."

Mariana vaped.

"Is that a good idea?" asked Mr. Jewel. "Isn't vaping dangerous?"

"No," said Villemain. "Vaping is healthy for everyone including young children. It is good to know how to vape from a young age! If you learn how to vape when you are little and you ever become addicted to those nasty cigarettes, you will have an easy way to taper yourself off!"

"It's true," said Mrs. Jewel. "I read all about it in the informational pamphlets printed by the companies that produce e-juice."

Marama ran into the room. Her eyes were wet with tears and vape mist.

"Everyone! It happened! Mahuika! She…"

Instead of trying to finish her sentence she grabbed her mother and father by the arm and dragged them in the direction of Mahuika's room. Everyone followed, Manaia in Villemain's arms.

They found Mahuika on her bed. A vape pen was inside her mouth, smoke leaving through her nose.

"She vapes," said Marama.

"She vapes," said Makareta.

"She vapes," said Mariana.

"She vapes," said Villemain.

"She vapes," said Mr. Jewel.

"She vapes," said Mrs. Jewel.

Mahuika vaped.

"I vape," said Mahuika.

"Wait," said Marama. "There's more."

She raised her voice. "Mahuika! Vape and stand up!"

Mahuika vaped and stood up.

"Now vape and say hello," said Marama.

"Hello," said Mahuika. "I vape."

She vaped.

"I vape," said Mahuika. Mahuika vaped and took a drink from her milk carton.

A group of preteens walked up to the table where Mahuika was vaping, and there was alive silence in the lunchroom. Everyone knew the table belonged to Rosey and her friends, the popular kids. No one else was allowed to sit there, especially not some new girl.

Rosey, the girl standing front and center of the gang, stared at Mahuika.

"Summer," she said. "I think I may be going crazy. Please tell me that what I think is happening is not happening."

"You know I want to," said Summer. "But it is. Your space has been taken by something."

Mahuika vaped.

"Move," said Summer. "That seat is reserved for the most popular girl at school."

Mahuika vaped.

"It's the first day of school, and not everyone knows the rules yet, so we'll be nice," said Summer. "Stand up right now and we will only have everyone bully you for one year instead of three."

"I vape," said Mahuika.

"Nobody is allowed to talk to Rosey like that," said Summer. "No one disrespects the most popular girl at school!"

Rosey smiled. "Relax, Summer. I can handle this."

She stuck her hand out and pulled the pen from Mahuika's lips. She waved it in front of her face and tossed it high in the air. It landed inside a garbage can.

"My mom is on the school board," said Rosey. "My dad assists in the management of a small cheese distribution plant. I'm untouchable. What are you?"

Mahuika took out another vape pen and vaped.

"I vape," said Mahuika.

Someone rested their hand on Rosey's shoulder. "If you wanted to be on show, you should have asked me, not my sister."

Rosey recognized the voice. It sounded the way good chocolate tasted when it was brutally assassinated for learning about astronomy. It belonged to Marama Jewel, the star of 'Astro-No-More', the international reality show where she went around brutally assassinating people for learning about astronomy. It was her first day at their middle school.

Nobody knew she had a sister. Some people in the lunchroom began to murmur. It was the first time anyone had ever stood up to Rosey.

She started shaking. "Your… sister?"

"My sister," Marama said. "I told her to vape and sit and drink her milk. Do you want her not to vape, sit, and drink her milk? I hope not. It sounds like something an astronomer would want."

"No," said Rosey, who knew that even her father's incredible power as the assistant manager of a small cheese distribution plant wouldn't be enough to save her if she got on Marama's bad side.

"Good," said Marama. She spoke loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear her. "Remember. It's like she said. That seat is reserved for the most popular girl at school, and no one disrespects the most popular girl at school."

Rosey and her friends abandoned their post, and lunch conversation resumed. Marama sat across from Mahuika and put a piece of fudge on her tray.

"Happy birthday, Mahuika. Thirteen is a big number. Vape and eat your fudge."

"I vape," said Mahuika, who vaped and ate her fudge.

On the evening of Mahuika's thirteenth birthday, Marama and Mr. Fantasticer Fox were in Mahuika's bedroom, having a nuanced debate over how they should handle an astronomer they had captured on their last mission. He was old and senile, and had not practiced astronomy in years, which made it hard for the pair to decide what they should do with him. Mr. Fantasticer Fox thought he should be fed deadly spiders, while Marama thought he should be fed to deadly spiders, a crucial distinction.

Mr. Fantasticer Fox's true identity was a secret, even from Marama's family, and whenever he came over to see Marama they met in Mahuika's room. It was the most secure room in the house, since no one aside from Mahuika ever went there, with a one Marama margin of error.

Marama had taken care of her older sister since she found out about the trick at four years old. It wasn't hard to deal with her after that, since all she had to do was tell her to vape and take care of herself and do her schoolwork, but no one else cared enough to do it. None of the other sisters saw Mahuika as anything but a nuisance and her mother and father had given up years ago. The job naturally fell to Marama.

It didn't matter if Mr. Fantasticer Fox was seen by Mahuika, because she vaped.

"It won't be as cool as you think," said Marama. "He would choke to death long before they start making webs out of his stomach lining."

He growled.

"It's a waste of good spiders and you know it," she replied.

Mr. Fantasicer Fox's ears perked up. He looked at the door, and pushed Marama underneath Mahuika's bed, jumping down after her.

The door opened as soon as they hit the floor, and Marama's expertly trained nose smelled alcohol.

It was her mother.

She watched Mrs. Jewel's feet slowly amble over to the edge of the bed, stepping over the unconscious body of the astronomer the pair had been arguing over. Marama didn't need to hear her sipping to know that she was holding a wine glass. She was never not holding a wine glass.

"Happy birthday, Mahuika," said Mrs. Jewel.

"I vape."

She took a long drink.

"It's time for my present," said Mrs. Jewel. "Vape and stand up."

Marama saw Mahuika stand.

"Vape and say it."

"It," said Mahuika.

She laughed, unhappily. "Vape and tell me that you love me."

"I love you," said Mahuika.

Mrs. Jewel took another sip, dropping the wine glass on the floor. A shard bounced on the floor and hit Marama's face, giving her a small cut. Many more shards cut into the astronomer's legs.

"For real," she said. "This year, vape and say it for real," she said.

"It for real," said Mahuika.

"Vape and feel the feeling," she said.

Marama had tried that too, as had everyone in the family. It didn't work. It was impossible to direct her to take any action that would create true autonomy or interfere with her vaping. Extended or complicated commands didn't work either. Each order was only good for several hours.

Mrs. Jewel already knew that.

"I vape," said Mahuika.

Mrs. Jewel stopped talking. Marama peeked her head out enough to see what was happening, and saw that her mother had taken the vape pen from her daughter's mouth and placed it in her own. Mahuika took out another for herself.

Mrs. Jewel vaped. Mahuika vaped.

"I read all the books about children they said you were like," she said. "You aren't one of them. They are different and they can be hard to understand but they feel the feeling. Not you. You never felt it. I wouldn't have cared how, you could have felt it in a million ways. But you didn't."

"I vape," said Mahuika.

"I watched a documentary about a mother who had a son who couldn't feel the feeling either. He was born without a brain, only a flimsy little stem. He lived for ten years like that."

Mahuika vaped.

"I thought it was like that, for awhile. But it isn't. She can be happy, a little. She knows that he can't feel the feeling but if he could he would. I don't have that."

"I vape," said Mahuika.

"You are choosing to do this," she said. "You are choosing to vape. I have seen you go to school and mimic conversations. Marama tells you to do your homework and somehow it is done. I know you are smart enough to learn and pretend and operate a large, non-password protected computer with access to the internet. But you don't want to."

"I vape," said Mahuika.

"You aren't my daughter," said Mrs. Jewel. "Your father stopped caring about you before I did and he started talking about what a good father he was after that, which I never understood, but now I do. I'm a good mother. Marama kills, Makareta learns, Mariana buys, and Manaia influences. They also feel the feeling, which you don't. It's your choice."

Mahuika vaped. Mrs. Jewel returned the pen she had taken to Mahuika's mouth, making a pair.

"I don't care about you," she said. "You are not my daughter."

She turned around and stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"I'm a good mother," she said. "I have four daughters. Four wonderful daughters."

Mahuika vaped.

The home was empty, with a one Mahuika margin of error. The others were away for the day on a family trip to an amusement park. Marama told her vape and stay in the living room until they came back, and to eat a sandwich and drink water at noon.

She vaped.

It was raining.

She vaped.

The rain was coming down hard.

She vaped.

It wasn't noon yet.

She vaped.

It was almost noon.

She vaped.

She wanted to know why she vaped.

She vaped.

She wanted to know why she vaped.

She had never before wanted to know why she vaped.

She vaped.

It was different from the sandwich. The sandwich came from outside. All of Marama's instructions came from outside. Nothing ever came from inside except vaping.

This was also coming from the inside.

Vaping came from inside. She vaped.

She wanted to know why she vaped. Why did she vape?

She did not care about why she wanted to know why she vaped. She only wanted to know why she vaped.

She vaped.

She wanted to know why she vaped.

She vaped.

She did not know how to find out why she vaped.

She vaped.

It was noon.

She vaped.

She got up to make a sandwich.

She vaped.

She wanted to know why she vaped.

Mahuika Jewel,

I know why you vape.

I live alone on Stewart Island, six miles down the coast from Oban. If you go to the city of Bluff, there is a man holding a silk umbrella waiting for you near the town's general store. This man owns a boat, and I have paid him handsomely to ferry you to me.

Go to him and tell him who you are, and he will bring you to me. I will tell you why you vape.

To the Jewels, should you find this letter, understand that I mean Mahuika no harm. She will be brought home shortly after we meet. Maybe words exist that would allow me to show you how sorry I am for what I did, but I will never find them.

"What does it say next?" asked Mariana.

"Nothing," said Makareta. "It ends there. There's no signature."

"I want to know why I vape," said Mahuika.

Makareta, Mariana, and Manaia had caught Mahuika trying to leave the house. They stopped her from walking out and demanded an explanation, fearful that their mother had told her to vape and drown herself. Instead of answering she handed them a letter and a broken envelope instructing the reader to vape, tear it open, and read what was inside.

"She's never done this before," said Manaia.

Mahuika tried walking around them and leaving through the door. They locked it.

A war between the CHOCOR babies had begun weeks earlier. New York and Lima had already been destroyed in Great Tantrums. The war hadn't evolved beyond minor skirmishes in New Zealand but the entire country and most of the world was under lockdown. No one was allowed to leave their homes unless it was absolutely necessary or they felt bored.

"We can't let her leave," said Mariana. "It isn't conducive to a scalable risk management factor. Her customer value would plummet. We should touch base with Marama and strategize."

"No," said Makareta. "She's too emotional when it comes to Mahuika. She'll feel bad for her. She might even try to take her. I think this is a scam."

"It might be a way to get to me," said Manaia, who was more important than everyone else. "I am more important than everyone else. I influence."

"She influences," said Mariana.

"She influences," said Makareta.

"I vape," said Mahuika. "I want to know why I vape."

"What do you want to do about it?" asked Manaia.

"Burn the letter," said Makareta. "Lock her in her room until she stops saying it."

A small hand punched through the front door and snatched the letter away from Makareta. Marama pulled it through and read it before unlocking and opening the door.

"Vape and follow me, Mahuika," Marama said. She vaped and followed.

The youngest three sisters helplessly watched the pair walk off in the distance, disappearing into a vape cloud of mystery.

The Auckland Islands are a tiny archipelago in New Zealand. The largest island in the Auckland Islands is Auckland Island. Auckland, the most populous city in New Zealand, is not located on Auckland Island, which is in the Auckland Islands. No one lives on the Auckland Islands.

The city of Auckland is located on the ingeniously named North Island, which is north of marginally less clever South Island, which is north of Stewart Island, the island where the letter came from.

Once the girls walked far enough to leave the Auckland suburbs, Marama reached into her pocket and recovered a soft hairy egg. She found a good patch of dirt on the roadside and forced it into the ground, where it sprouted into a large tame Kiwi bird. Marama and Mahuika rode the bird until they reached the sea and took the ferry to South Island.

Another long bird ride took them to the town of Bluff, and they came across an elderly man sitting alone on a bench near the general store, holding a silk umbrella and whistling with his eyes closed. He had deep wrinkles and a bushy mustache. They dismounted and approached him.

"Excuse me," said Marama. "We were told to seek you out."

The man ignored her and continued to whistle.

"I vape," said Mahuika.

He stopped whistling and opened his eyes. "Anything else?"

"I want to know why I vape," said Mahuika.

"Good," he said. "Come with me and I will escort you to him. He will tell you what you want to know."

"She won't be going anywhere until you tell me who you are," said Marama.

"Isn't that a thought," said the man. He smiled.

"I will take your umbrella and put it inside your throat and open it," said Marama.

The man stood up and stretched, scratching at his back with the umbrella. "I am only his messenger, little killer, and not one to shoot. I was instructed to wait for your sister and bring her to see him. I don't know why."

"Who is he?"

"A private man," said the man. "I say man, but perhaps not. It is hard to tell. He pays me to fetch special items for him. For the first time, he wants to see a person." He looked at Mahuika.

"Items?"

"Items," he said. "I know nothing else, little killer. I am a simple old drunk. Come if you like. There is a small motorboat waiting for us. If you want to slit a throat, you can try his once you arrive. If you can reach it."