It was a different world when I woke up.
I wake up early, because there's firewood to get, and besides, I like the quiet of the early morning. The day is like a clean page of paper, waiting to be written on: anything can happen. As I left the house, I noticed a knot of people gathered at the usually deserted power pole on the corner across the street. There were quite a few of them, and more were coming. I gathered an armload of wood from the stockpile, gave it to my mum, and taking it, she told me to run over to see what was up. My Mum gets up early, too.
I wove my way through the crowd, wondering what could be so exciting that they were all murmuring the way they were, and pointing. They didn't notice me, except for a woman in a purple coat, and she stepped aside. I read what they were reading, pasted to the pole. The first thing I saw, in a bright red, splashed across the top, was the Wonka name.
Dear People Of The World, it said.
That's a lot of people.
I, Willy Wonka…
That was funny, and I had to smile. Who else would it be, beneath the Wonka name? I wonder if Mr. Wonka feels invisible, like I do sometimes.
…have decided to allow five children to visit my Factory this year.
'Allow'. That's not a very friendly word. Was it a hard decision for him? I guess it was. He doesn't have folks over for tea, after all. But a visit to his factory! I kept reading.
These lucky five will be shown around personally by me, and will learn all the secrets and magic of my Factory.
But wouldn't that mean he'd have to trust us? Grandpa Joe says that ever since spies in the factory were stealing him blind, he doesn't trust anyone. I don't know if I believe, as untrusting as he is, he'll tell those children any secrets. But they will see inside the factory, and that's the main thing. There was more reading to do.
Uh-oh.
Five golden tickets have been hidden underneath the ordinary wrapping of five ordinary Wonka bars.
Golden Tickets ... He does like to stand out. I wonder if they're made out of real gold.
These five candy bars may be anywhere— In any shop in any street in any town in any country in the world.
I had to smile again. I was surprised he stopped with country. He could have gone on with continent and hemisphere. He'd have to draw the line at galaxy. I don't think he can send Wonka bars to another galaxy.
In addition one of these children will receive a special prize beyond anything you could ever imagine.
What did that mean? I had no idea. Going into Mr. Wonka's factory was itself a special prize beyond anything I could ever imagine. And I have to confess: my estimation of Mr. Wonka went down a little when I read that. His candy gave everyone tasting it joy, equally, but whatever this special prize was would make the four children, who weren't the special prize winning child, unhappy. Mr. Wonka was planning to make four children unhappy, and he was announcing that to the world. It didn't seem like him, somehow. My toes were numb with cold by now. I retreated back to my house to tell my family what was up.
Grandpa Joe was beside himself. I thought for a minute he was going to jump out of bed and run across the street and read the sticker for himself, but he didn't. Instead, he kicked his heels up and down under the covers until Grandpa George told him to desist and Grandma Georgina said, "I hate earthquakes!" because his feet are at their end of the bed. He was slapping his hands on the covers, too, and Grandma Josephine dropped her hand onto his knee, and then he stopped. "Get the television!" he cried. "Let's see what they're saying!
We have a tiny television that we put on the table we use for everything when we want to watch it. The table is a picnic table, along with its benches, that we found in the dump, and we got the TV from there as well. That dump is a useful place, and conveniently located.
I didn't think the news would have it yet, but they did. A man with a microphone was standing in front of the factory gates, explaining about it. I'd have thought Mr. Wonka would be there as well—it's his contest—but he wasn't: just the grey gates and the grey man, saying what I had already read and told them. Now the whole world knew what only our town had known this morning, and only Mr. Wonka and his workers had known last night.
The newscast over, we put away the television, and my mum got on with her chores—my dad had gone to work—but the rest of us sat around thinking about how strange the world can be: just when you think nothing remarkable will happen, something remarkable happens.
Wouldn't it be something, Charlie, to open a bar of candy, and find a Golden Ticket inside?
My grandpa's eyes were shining like stars. They made mine shine, at the thought. I know, I said, trying to break it to him gently, but I only get one bar a year … for my birthday.
My mum was cleaning the floor, rinsing her mop in the bucket, the smell of the cleaning solution mixing with all the other smells in our small house, and for the moment, it was the strongest. It's your birthday next week, she said. Grandma Josephine chimed in. You have as much chance as anybody does.
My breath caught in my throat. This was going to be another subject I'd have to be careful about with them. I had NO CHANCE, and I knew it. Not because I only get one candy bar a year, which is bad enough, but because I live in this town, the town with Mr. Wonka's chocolate factory in it, and Mr. Wonka doesn't like this town. I bet Mr. Wonka HATES this town. I bet he'd move his factory away from here, if it weren't as big as it is, and hard to pick up. This is the town that sent in the spies to steal his secret recipes. This is the town where he sent his workers home. This is the town where he closed his factory. This is the town where he didn't hire even ONE SINGLE WORKER back when he reopened! There is no way he would send a chocolate bar with a Golden Ticket in it to this town. Doesn't my family realize this? Don't they listen to the stories they tell, the way I do? What is wrong with them?
Balderdash!
Oh, good, I can breathe again. My Grandpa George will straighten them out. He's realistic.
The kids who are going to find the Golden Tickets are the ones who can afford to buy candy bars every day! Our Charlie only gets one a year … He doesn't have a chance.
That's right. I had to make my jaw as tight as I could not to look heartbroken. It's one thing to know that no one can go in, and another to know that I can't go in, just because of where I live.
Everyone has a chance, Charlie.
Grandma Josephine thinks she's making it better, but she's making it worse. I'll have to pretend about my happiest dream now, the way I have to pretend that we have enough of the things we need. Mr. Wonka… Did you think about this? Did you know you would make my life unhappier? Make lots of kids' lives unhappier? Did you? Do you even care? I kept my sigh to myself.
Mark my words; the kid who finds the first Golden Ticket will be fat, fat, fat.
Grandpa George… it's nice of him to take the spotlight off of me and my nonexistent chances.
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.