Hmm, there's more to this than I thought there'd be, and this is NOT the last chapter. I do plan on posting on that other anniversary, and this is an anniversary, but so is every day, so that's pretty vague. With no more predictions from me, I bid you enjoy!

"Well, looky there, Fizzy Lifting Drinks. I didn't take my tour to that room. How do these people know so much about my Factory?"

"They've seen soda pop and figured that you'd do that one, one better?" A melody floated into Grandpa Joe's head, sung in George's raspy voice. He remembered George's reference to 'tiny bubbles', obscure at the time, but now, not so much. "I know! Champagne! Champagne made the writer think of it!"

"Champagne." Mr. Wonka grinned. "There's a bunch o' bubbles that'll get ya high. Wasn't I good, not cringing at that paraphrased quote?"

"Bubbles, bubbles, everywhere, but not a—"

"Yeah, that one."

"Yes, you were."

Grandpa Joe resisted the urge to give Mr. Wonka a pat on the head, though with the seating arrangement, and no top-hat, it would have been easily done. Satisfied, and oblivious to his narrow patting escape, Mr. Wonka let himself settle back.

"Other than throwing that spanner into my gobstopper machinations, you were pretty good in the Inventing Room."

Grandpa Joe bowed his head. "Thank you, I'm sure."

"Oh, let us try some. Don't be mean!"

"Am I ever mean? No, nope, no, no, no."

Grandpa Joe smiled at Mr. Wonka answering his own question.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not! There'd be children floating around all over the place. Come along now; don't hang about. You're going to be wild about this next room."

Slouched comfortably in the bean bag chair, his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, his head cradled in its yielding mass, Mr. Wonka agreed. "Yes, yes, let's all go along. This isn't so bad. What's all the fuss?"

Grandpa Joe hunched forwards. "Charlie and I haven't left."

"So you haven't."

"Let's take a drink, Charlie; nobody's watching."

In the next second, silent, Mr. Wonka rolled onto his side, doubled over, but attempting to sit up, all the while clutching his middle in a death-grip, as if his appendix had burst. Grandpa Joe sprang to his feet in alarm, laying steadying hands on Mr. Wonka's back. "Are you all right?"

Achieving the sitting position, Mr. Wonka flicked the gnarled, solicitous hands away, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Yeah."

Mr. Wonka groped for the remote. "Was that Charlie I just heard? Saying, 'yeah'?"

"A small one won't hurt us."

Finding it, Mr. Wonka hit pause. "Oh, my goodness, it's too amazing! Mr. Joe Bucket, sir, you bad, bad man! Contributing to the delinquency of a minor!" Mr. Wonka collapsed again, his arms wrapped around his midriff.

"I'm serious, Mr. Wonka, are you all right? Are you hurt?" Grandpa Joe dithered, unsure what to do. He didn't dare touch Mr. Wonka again.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Mr. Wonka between gasps. "I made a resolution I wouldn't laugh until a particular something happens, and it's a resolution I resolve never to make again! I'm finding it nigh on impossible to keep. I doubt, if I watch much more of this fantasy, that I'll be able to. But, ya know," Mr. Wonka caught his breath, "so far, so good!"

With an effort, Mr. Wonka managed to return himself to some semblance of his usual self, but he wasn't done. "You're such a hoot, Mr. Bucket-the-elder, d'ya know that? As if, on a tour, in my Factory, nobody is watching? I'm dying. I want to laugh. I had watchers watching the watchers that day! With watches! You can see how many Loompa-Oompas there are—isn't that what the Oompa-Loompas called them?—running around corridors, hiding behind rocks that hid secret passage ways! One might even surmise there might be cameras! Oh my, you're too-too funny!"

Grandpa Joe stood tall, and with dignity, sat back down in his chair. "That's not me up there."

"Darned straight it's not," said Mr. Wonka. "But I do hope there's something of Charlie up there."

"You DO?"

"I didn't know your voice could reach that octave, Grandpa Joe, sir, but yah, at this stage of his life, I do. Let's resume." His attention on the screen, Mr. Wonka pushed play. "Will wonders never cease? Charlie took a drink. Up they go!"

"Mr. Wonka isn't going to like this."

Grandpa Joe squirmed. As much as he disliked that fellow up there, they agreed on that.

"Ya never know... Depends how it works out."

Mr. Wonka had steepled his fingers, and was all eyes. Grandpa Joe shook his head.

"I'm gonna try and get down."

"Why? You just got up there! Are ya gonna waste it?"

"…Be very careful."

"Seriously, I'm not going to laugh." Mr. Wonka put the palm of one hand flat on the top of his head and the back of his other hand flat under his chin, holding his jaws shut as a deterrent, but in a moment took them away. "This from the man who, in the Inventing Room, was a party to this exchange," Mr. Wonka closed his eyes: "Why doesn't she listen to Mr. Wonka?" It was in on-screen Charlie's voice, but with Mr. Wonka's vocal chords doing the work. His voice changed: "Because, Charlie, she's a nitwit."

"How do you do that?"

"Practice, as a child."

"Hey, it's fun, Grandpa! It works!…"

"Of course it works!"

"…Come on in, the air's fine!"

"Look at Charlie, being adventurous."

Grandpa Joe cast his eyes on Mr. Wonka. Was that a sigh?

"Oh, I don't know, Charlie…"

"Wasn't this your idea?"

"I don't think I ought to…"

Wetting his lips, Grandpa Joe turned back to the screen. "I changed my mind?"

"Oh, oh! This is great!"

"Apparently not." Mr. Wonka uncrossed his arms, and let some of the tension out of his shoulders. "It is pretty fun. Have you ever done it?"

Grandpa Joe shook his head. "Not that I recall," he said, quietly.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, Mr. Wonka grinned beneath it. "Don't be so mean! I've told you the problem. You're making me want to laugh! ... You'd remember!"

Grandpa Joe did laugh, and they both watched the cavorting on the screen. "It does look like fun."

"It is."

"Help! Grandpa, the fan!"

"Uh-oh, the fan in the ointment…"

"Stay away from it, Charlie…"

"Good advice."

"…It'll chop us to bits…"

"Itty-bitty bits." Mr. Wonka was leaning forwards now, with a clinical detachment that bordered on eerie, an experiment to watch, and nothing more. "There is a way down, ya know."

"There's nothing to grab on to! Help! We're gonna get killed!"

"There's a pleasant thought for a musical about a Chocolate Factory."

"Help!"

"Mr. Wonka, please! Turn off the fan…"

"I thought he said 'nobody's watching'? Why, then, is he telling me to turn off the fan?"

Grandpa Joe let his limp wristed hand dangle from the arm of the chair, his body as slumped as his spirits. He'd gotten Charlie into this mess. "He's a nitwit."

With index and second finger, Mr. Wonka pressed his lips together, but his shoulders were shaking. In the movie, Grandpa Joe burped. He lost altitude.

"That's how ya do it," affirmed Mr. Wonka, dropping his fingers from his lips.

"Quick, Charlie, burp, burp!"

"Help! I can't! Help!"

The beans in the bean bag chair crunched against each other as Mr. Wonka's tension grew, his uneasy shifting replacing his earlier detachment. Snatching it from the floor beside him, Mr. Wonka's fingers had tightened like iron vises around his walking-stick, grasping it as if it were his own lifeline, as Charlie neared disaster. On screen, Charlie burped. Mr. Wonka's fingers relaxed. "Look at Charlie, being uncouth."

"And a good thing, too!" said, Grandpa Joe, in a rush of pent-up breath.

"I agree, but ya know, when you said, 'You've gotta burp, Charlie, it's the only way.'? It's not the only way."

"Keep it to yourself, Mr. Wonka, please. I can guess, and we've had enough uncouth for now," said Grandpa Joe, disgusted with himself for suggesting they take the sip of forbidden Fizzy Lifting Drinks in the first place. He was no nitwit, but this movie, having had him in a previous scene clearly define the problem—not listening to Mr. Wonka—insisted he be nitwit enough not to take his own advice.

"'Kay," said Mr. Wonka, wanting to giggle, but cognizant of his resolution, and more so, of Grandpa Joe's disgust tinged voice. What a weight, to be burdened with upholding the so-called 'standards', but Grandpa Joe was, after all, a person with offspring, and as such, he no doubt felt obliged... Mr. Wonka shrugged his shoulders, ready to move on. "I'm encouraged by that scene."

"You're joking!"

"I never joke."

Ding!

On screen, Grandpa Joe and Charlie neared touch down. In the Chocolate Television Room, Willy Wonka swung round to see who had dared disturb them via the Great Glass Elevator.

"Grab onto me, Charlie…"

It was Charlie.

The on-screen miscreants landed.

"We're gonna be all right now. Good boy."

"Why, Charlie Bucket," said Willy Wonka, locking eyes with him. "You naughty, naughty, adventurous boy!"

Quoted material in italics are direct quotes from the 1971 and 2005 films. I still do not own either of anything of the Chocolate Factories ... wait; strike that, reverse it ... and there is no copyright infringement intended.

Thank you readers and reviewers. Gs33022: My word! How sloppy! Thanks for pointing out the 'is' isn't 'in' issue; I fixed it :-) I hope you enjoyed more of Willy and Joe sharing time together, and thanks for sharing your thoughts. Squirrela: Thank you; I think you've hit the nail on the head with that observation. Here's more, but Mr. Wonka is liking this scene for the most part, so I hope you do, too. Lady Vagabond: Thanks for your thoughts. Typos are pesky, there's no denying that, but don't worry, I knew what you meant. I'm glad you enjoyed the Matilda musical scenes; Matilda's influence has had an impact. :-)