But I don't feel very sorry for Mr. Wonka. He's doing all right for himself; the truth is, I love his factory as much as Grandpa Joe does. Maybe more. I built a model of it out of toothpaste caps my dad brings home for me. They're rejects, like we are, so I think that's kinda cool. They make a great model.

I've drawn some pictures of Mr. Wonka's factory, too They're not so good. They were for an assignment we had to do in school: Draw Something You'd Like To Explore. A lot of kids drew things in nature, like the Grand Canyon, or the Amazon Jungle. One kid drew Mount Everest. I drew the Chocolate Factory. My mum had me put them on the wall in my loft, she said so I could see them more, but I think it's because the others want to see them less. I'd ask them if that's why, but that would be another embarrassing question, so I keep quiet. I don't mind about my drawings. I know they're not the best I'll ever draw, and anyway, I'm a better model maker. I could be a sculptor. I'd just as soon put the drawings in a drawer and forget about them, but I don't. That might offend them, thinking they've offended me.

Next to my drawings, I've pinned up the wrappers of all the Wonka bars I've eaten. That's kind of like an exploration: an exploration of chocolaty goodness! Plus, the art work on those is good. The colors brighten the room. I get one bar a year: on my birthday. That's all we have the money for.

I LOVE Mr. Wonka's chocolate. It's the BEST THING I've ever eaten on the planet! It's true, I haven't eaten most things a person can eat on the planet, but so far, Mr. Wonka's chocolate wins by a mile. Besides the taste, which is great, they're chock-a-block full of calories. There's enough calories in one of those bars for a month's worth of cabbage soup … Maybe more.

Between the dreamy taste of the chocolate, with its tons of calories, in not much space, and the stories my Grandpa Joe tells, Mr. Wonka is quite a person to me. I want to meet him in real life someday, and see for myself, and thank him for making such heavenly food. My Grandpa Joe says he'd 'give anything in the world just to go in, one more time, and see what's become of that amazing factory'. I'd sure like to go in; if my Grandpa Joe likes Mr. Wonka and his factory that much, I know I would.

My Grandpa George says that will never happen. He told Grandpa Joe, 'Well you won't, because you can't. No one can. It's a mystery, and it will always be a mystery. That little factory of yours, Charlie, is as close as any of us is ever going to get.' My Grandma Josephine thinks the same thing. She asked me if I'd 'ever seen a single person going into that factory, or coming out of it?'

I had to think about that for a minute. Was it a trick question? Of course I've seen people go out of the factory … well … not the factory itself, but the factory's courtyard. I've seen the gates open, and Wonka truck after Wonka truck head down the hill to wherever it is they go. It doesn't happen often, but it happens often enough. Usually a new Wonka candy appears shortly afterwards, but not always.

I saw Wonka trucks leaving the factory just this afternoon. There were ten of them. Surely my grandparents have seen the trucks, too? But then I remember, they only ever get out of bed to answer the call of nature, so they've probably not seen the trucks. You'd think they'd at least hear them, but maybe not. Having thought about it, I decided it was better to go along and not upset her, so I said, 'no, the gates are always closed.' I felt bad, but if I was seeing open gates and they weren't, I didn't want to make them jealous, or maybe sad that they were missing out.

One thing I've decided, if I do want to see inside that factory—and I do—is that for that to happen I'll have to be at the factory. Mr. Wonka isn't going to come knocking at my door. So I go to the factory every day, after school. It's out of my way, but not by much, and it's up a hill, but the energy I use to get there is worth it. I take it slow, and when I get there, I rest by the gates, breathing in the delicious odors that spill over those high walls. If I had a fork, I'd spear them out of the air, and eat them. Breathing escaping calorie wannabes is wonderful, but it doesn't fill you up.

As often as I've gone there, I've never seen Mr. Wonka. I wonder if he doesn't go out sometimes to get his mail, but I don't see a mailbox, either. The gates are always closed when I get there, but if they were open, I wouldn't go in unless I were invited.

'Hello, little boy,' Mr. Wonka would say, holding his mail in one hand. 'Would you like to come in and see my Factory?'

'Oh, yes, Mr. Wonka,' I'd say, nodding my head. Then he'd take me by the hand, and lead me into the factory. The first thing he'd do is ask to call my parents, to let them know where I am, and I'd have to tell him that we don't have a telephone. I don't get much further in my imagination than that for detail. He'd probably tell me I have to go home, in that case, but maybe he'd tell me we have to hurry up and see it fast, before they missed me. Then he'd dash off, and I'd follow, and I'd wish Grandpa Joe were with me.

I like that daydream. I dream it until I get too cold to stand still anymore, and then I go home. Some days that's for longer than others. I wish that dream would come true, but I don't tell my family about it. They'd think my mind was getting like they think Grandma Georgina's is.

Tonight was a good night for stories. The cabbage soup was stronger than usual, and I think that made everyone cheerful. Grandpa Joe told two or three tonight, and then my mum sent me off to bed, before Grandpa George could drive us too far down the road of what we couldn't have, with what he had to say.

I said goodnight, and climbed up into my loft, and I was smiling as I lay down. There was no moon tonight, and I couldn't see the Chocolate Factory very well, but I knew it was up there, and whether Mr. Wonka knew it or not, I knew it was waiting for me. Snuggling down deeper into the covers, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Are these my characters? They are not. Is this purely for entertainment? It is.
Thanks for reading.
Have my reviewers made my day? They have, and I thank them, one and all.
As it ever is in my stories, direct quotes from the 2005 movie are in italics.