Charlie had no idea what to say to that. It occurred to him he hadn't planned anything to say in the first place, as this was the last place he expected to find these two! Even though he'd been told they were here, doing what they were doing, he hadn't believed it, until now; until he'd seen it with his own eyes. From the far end of the room, Grandpa Joe's false voice rang out:

"Come on, let's catch up to the others!"

Come on, not yet, I'm still getting my bearings. In the middle of the room, seated in the chair of honor, Grandpa Joe was facing away from him, apparently unaware he was there. Mr. Wonka, twisted in a semi-prone position atop some lump on the floor, had him pinned with his eyes, like a butterfly under glass. Charlie, moving his mouth, but finding no words emerging from it, was thankful that Mr. Wonka made words from Charlie unnecessary.

"For once the man's advice is reasonable. Take it. Come in. Catch up. Think of us as the others."

"Catch up?" Grandpa Joe's brow creased with consternation. "I'm sitting right here." Mr. Wonka was speaking, but though what he said made sense in itself, it made no sense with regards to what they were seeing on the screen. Grandpa Joe was at a loss to explain the sudden shift. Naughty boy? Adventurous? Come in? Catch up? Think of us as the others? He'd heard the name Charlie Bucket said, but that made the least sense of all! Charlie was away until the holidays.

With Mr. Wonka seated below and beside him, Grandpa Joe hadn't noticed him twist to face the door. Nonplused, Grandpa Joe watched Mr. Wonka get to his feet, peel away half the bean bag chair he was sitting on, and hold it aloft. There should be escaping bean bag innards everywhere, skittering across the polished floor like, well, dried beans, but there weren't any. Grandpa Joe lowered his head to peer at where Mr. Wonka had been sat. No, Mr. Wonka hadn't peeled his chair in two, there were two chairs, one in Mr. Wonka's hand, and the other in its original place, with the lumpiness he'd seen earlier the result of the two being mashed together to look like one. What the heck? Still in a fog, Grandpa Joe lifted his head, but with Mr. Wonka on his feet and facing the door, Grandpa Joe was now certain that the action was behind him. Slowly, expecting aggravation in the form of George, probably come to gloat, Grandpa Joe turned and saw… Charlie!

"Charlie!" Grandpa Joe was up on his feet and running towards his grandson like a thirsty man running for an oasis. "Charlie! You're back! Oh, Charlie!" Grandpa Joe threw his arms around his grandson and hugged him for all he was worth, his lips planting a kiss on Charlie's cheek, before resting his head on Charlie's shoulder.

"Grandpa Joe!" Charlie hugged him back. Immobile, Mr. Wonka was watching from where he stood, his head on a slight angle, the bean bag chair still in the air, but lowered, as if forgotten. In the low light, Charlie tried to read the emotions on that face, and saw only a mask.

"Forget your toothbrush?"

Charlie sighed, and smiled weakly at Mr. Wonka's spoken indication that he'd seen enough of family reunion. He gave his grandfather a last squeeze, and peck on the cheek of his own, and stepped away, wondering if, after all, returning had been such a good idea. "No," said Charlie, knowing Mr. Wonka expected the skinny on why he had returned. What could he say, in ten words or less, that wouldn't come off as whiney? "I met a girl."

Mr. Wonka broke into a grin, and then into a slew of giggles. "Then I guess there won't be any need for a second tour!"

Standing in the door, in the low light, the shade of crimson blooming first on Charlie's neck, and then on his face, couldn't be seen from the center of the room, but Grandpa Joe could see it, and practically feel the heat of it.

"Not like that," stammered Charlie. "She was in a play."

"Playing at a play, were you? We're playing at watching a movie. You've already seen it, so I'll understand if you don't want to see it again."

"No," said Charlie, his grandfather's arm around his waist, ushering him into the room, "I'd like to see it with you … two."

"Then have a seat."

"She can't have one."

"Oops."

With customary happy energy, Mr. Wonka bent down and picked up the remote, stopping the movie. Charlie had wondered if he might hug Mr. Wonka, but as he neared, all that was offered was the bean bag chair solidly between them. Taking it, and the hint, while his Grandpa Joe took his seat, Charlie dropped it down next to Mr. Wonka's.

"Not there, my dear boy, on the other side. We don't want your elder relative all unbalanced, now do we?"

Relocating, Charlie colored again. He'd been foolish to return. In his mind's eye, Matilda shook her head with disagreement.

"Where were we?"

"You and Charlie had returned to Earth. I'll rewind."

Charlie, settling, coughed. "What did you think of the Fizzy Lifting Drinks scene?"

Mr. Wonka grinned, with a hearty giggle. "I liked it … today. I wouldn't have liked it had something similar happened on our tour, which is one reason I didn't include a room like that."

"A room like what?" Grandpa Joe was curious.

"Like that: a room where special training is needed. Who knew burping controlled altitude? No one on that tour. If they hadn't figured it out… I hate to think." He gave a frisson of a shiver. "Can you imagine all the clean-up involved, after the choppity-chopped, gooey mess those two would have made? Umm, I think I'm there." Mr. Wonka hit play. "Nope; not there."

"Who knew gum would turn a person into a blueberry?"

With lowered lids, Mr. Wonka's eyes made a rapid orbit of their sockets, but he let that be the extent of his dismay. "You miss my point, my dear Grandpa Joe, sir. Even if she didn't know how to follow instructions when she entered the Inventing Room, Violet did know how to spit out gum, and could do that if she wished to. She didn't wish to, she kept chewing, and that's that." Willy sent a solicitous glance Charlie's way. "Even if they figure it out, some people can't burp on cue. I lost an Oompa-Loompa that way once … Here we are."

"Wait!"

At Charlie's cry, Mr. Wonka waited, finger poised.

"You said you liked it today. Why today?"

"Adventurousness; problem-solving; bravery grappling with fear… What's not to like? Let's go, it's getting late."

"Wait!"

"Grandpa Joe, sir!" Mr. Wonka was only mildly distressed at the further delay.

"You've been giggling."

Mr. Wonka giggled. "I told you I would! When the condition was met. It's been met."

"What was it?" asked Grandpa Joe.

"Charlie's returning," said Mr. Wonka, and with that, he pushed play.

Charlie didn't believe his ears. He didn't believe Mr. Wonka hadn't been giggling in the time Charlie had been gone, and he didn't believe his returning was the reason for it resuming now. But if it were true… In his mind's eye, Matilda crossed her arms, and sniffed. She'd known Charlie should return.

"These are the geese that lay the golden eggs … they're quadruple size geese which produce octuple size eggs."

"I've always thought we should have a giant onion growing contest," said Mr. Wonka. "Onions are like eggs…"

"They're laying overtime right now for Easter."
"But Easter's over!"

"Count on Mike, with his trusty almanac." From a forward position, Mr. Wonka now sat back, putting distance between himself and the screen.

"Ssshhh—"

Mr. Wonka off-screen cringed to see Mr. Wonka's on-screen hand cover Mike's mouth, and, ew, without even a glove!

"They don't know that. I'm trying to get ahead for next year."

"On the one hand, had I done that to our Mike, he'd have bitten me, and on the second hand—not a clock hand—I don't have any of these geese, and on the third hand—which would be the second hand, if it were on a clock—gosh, Mr. Wilder has me an unethical brute. It wouldn't surprise me if his Loompa-Oompas aren't slaves."

"How many people can afford octuple sized golden eggs?" asked Grandpa Joe.

"Royalty; politicians, Fortune 500 types; cartels; drug lords; real-estate moguls; you know, all those fat-cat greedy types, with eensy-weensy self-esteem."

"Hey, Daddy, I want a golden goose!"

"We're doing this here?" Mr. Wonka leaned forwards and around Grandpa Joe's legs to see Charlie's face. Charlie nodded. "No squirrels?"

"No squirrels, Mr. Wonka."

"Nuts," said Mr. Wonka. "The Salt's Nut joke was such a good one, and on so many levels."

"…SO GOOD YOU COULD GO NUTS…"

"She agrees."

Charlie laughed, and Mr. Wonka smiled.

"…AND I DON'T WANT TO SHARE 'EM…"

"This is a long song," said Grandpa Joe. "And look how hard she is on the bric-a-brac."

"I'm taking it well," said Mr. Wonka. "That's my stuff she's knocking about. I'm surprised the Loompa-Oompas aren't tripping her up. My Oompa-Loompas would."

"The Oompa-Loompas objected to this: the destruction, and the song," offered Charlie.

"Told ya," said his mentor.

"…I WANT A PARTY WITH ROOMFULS OF LAUGHTER…"

"I've got that—"

"Butterscotch and buttergin," grinned Grandpa Joe. Mr. Wonka offered his hand for a high-five, and Grandpa Joe obliged him.

"…TEN THOUSAND TONS OF ICE CREAM.."

"That, too." Getting bored, Mr. Wonka stifled a yawn. "This is a long song."

Veruca danced to the Eggdicator, and, with a dischordant honk, disappeared. "Oh, good, we're done with that. The Oompa-Loompas are so much better at production numbers."

"There's gonna be a lot of garbage today."

Mr. Wonka giggled at his screen-self's comment. There was gonna be more than that!

"Well, Mr. Salt finally got what he wanted."
"What's that?"
"Veruca went first."

"That's kinda snide, Grandpa Joe, sir."

Grandpa Joe shook his head, the expression on his face the puckered look of a person who'd finished one too many sour-balls. Charlie looked away, and the two seeing this part for the first time shared a questioning glance.

"Mr. Wonka, they won't really be burned in the furnace, will they?"

"Hmmm …"

"I start the answer to that with 'hmmm'?" Mr. Wonka squeaked.

"…Well, I think that furnace is lit only every other day, so they have a good sporting chance, haven't they?"

"Umm… Does that answer make you feel any better, Charlie?"

"No," said Charlie. "You played the same game with our tour, but you let us know before we left the room that the furnace was broken, so we knew right away it wasn't turned on. I was happy knowing that. I still thought she'd break something."

"Nah, the first drop had some height, and the last one, but the rest of it is like a waterslide. I don't want the nuts picking up too much speed. They might ricochet. I figured if she, or he, or they, went down that chute, three weeks worth of garbage at the end of it oughta be enough of a brake and bath for them, and I was right."

"If?"

"Yeah, 'if'. There were a lot of variables in that adventure. Veruca was bigger, and outweighed those squirrels by a lot, even if there were one-hundred of them. I was worried for them, but they are fierce."

The Loompa-Oompas took their turn at the chant.

"Like I said, the Oompa-Loompas are better, but these guys did get the mother and the father part right. Now where? Fudge Mountain? He's already done the television version of Exploding Candy."

"The television version?" Grandpa Joe turned tired eyes to Mr. Wonka.

"You know, television..." Mr. Wonka waved his hands towards the set, "The Small Screen, like the one we're watching here, as opposed to The Silver Screen, which is big, big, big. Mike had a small piece. As you know, I do Exploding Candy in technicolor, in a room many stories tall, and it's way more fun using big pieces, as actual ammo, than it is loosening people's teeth with it, although, ya know, I'm sure that would irk a dentist, say—"

"Mr. Wonka!"

"Grandpa Joe, sir!"

"I don't understand it. The children are disappearing like rabbits…"

For the second time, Mr. Wonka elbowed Grandpa Joe on the shin. "He's saying that cuz they went down a hole! Get it? A rabbit hole, except it was a goose egg hole—"

"…Well, we still have each other…"

At that, interrupting himself and leaning forwards to see them both, an energized Mr. Wonka caught Grandpa Joe's and Charlie's eyes with his. "We do," he said, with verve.

"Shall we press on?"

"Yes, let's," Mr. Wonka answered, in a most chirpy way, and then he fell back against the beans in his bean bag chair, giggling with tears in his eyes, because a chorus of "We're off to see the Factory" was all that was needed to complete that snippet of darn near dialogue from the Wizard of Oz.

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

Reading about the size of the eggs, I couldn't help but remember that Mr. Dahl was fond of having a giant onion growing contest with his friends each year, so that's how that idea made it into this. Gs33022: Your chapter nineteen review expressed an interest in the fate of the brats; there was a pinch of that in this chapter, with, I hope, some other aspects to enjoy. I added the missing period. You have an eagle eye. Thank you. Squirrela: Wonder no more! Thanks for reviewing. Gs33022: :-D Yeah, I wasn't going to change that. ;-)