No Silly Questions

Initiation

It was an innocent sort of thing, you know, to ask how a skeleton can see without eyes. As Wonka himself liked to say, there were no stupid questions. But if there had been, that particular question would have topped the list.

No amount of candy could erase the image of what was beyond the dark recesses of those eye sockets. Wonka had forced himself to sit down, in favor of not toppling over, and Jack had put a hand on his shoulder.

"And now I ask you a question, Mr. Wonka."

"…yes, of course, Mr. Skellington."

"What is it that you do?"

Silly question.

Monitoring

Apparently all of the candy in Halloweentown was stale, because Jack had reacted negatively to the first piece of Wonka's. The first piece, anyway; he'd liked the second, the refined exploding candy, and it hadn't done a single thing to char his skull.

Which Wonka was grateful for. Somehow, angering a seven-foot skeleton didn't seem like such a great idea.

Jack tapped him on the shoulder, an easy thing considering their height difference, and gestured to another boiling vat in the Inventing Room. "And that?"

"Dreaming candy," Wonka answered. "Eat before bed and you'll have only good dreams."

"Do you dream anything else?"

Conversing

The tricksters, the trick or treaters, had had excellent ideas for candy. Once you toned down all of the bodily harm, anyhow. Wonka had taken down their ideas with interest, and shortly after Jack had been looming over his shoulder.

"It's no wonder you make grown men scream," Wonka said conversationally. "You never announce your presence."

"You never seem to mind, and always notice," Jack returned, peering at the list.

"I may not be sane, but I'm not blind."

They didn't speak for a while, then Wonka continued happily, "Ideas, Jack?"

Jack just grinned and took the pen from him.

Comfort

It was a hit, of course. Everyone loved the candy that fought those trying to eat it. And the chocolate bars that made snarling noises when they were unwrapped. The former, the tricksters, the latter, Jack.

"You missed your true calling, Jack," Wonka noted, as they sprawled in the Chocolate Room's mint grass. "You'd make a wonderful chocolatier."

"If the chocolate would stop molding into frightening faces whenever I go near."

Wonka laughed softly. "It's impossible to escape your other calling, dear Jack."

"Snowflakes, now chocolate… I don't know why I bother."

A pointed, but soft, look. "Because I asked you to?"

"Oh, yes, that."

Lessening

Halloween was coming up again, and the town created for it was whirring in activity. It was, however, missing Jack, and the pumpkin king knew that wouldn't do. But the vats of boiling candy, the conversation, the semblance of… well, normalcy that Halloweentown lacked—it was all rather addicting.

"There are no stupid questions?"

"Never," Wonka nodded, "only singing goats."

He wanted to remember these little tidbits most of all. "Halloween is approaching."

"Yes… we'll be producing overtime," the chocolatier noted, and then he glanced to Jack with a frown, understanding. "Oh."

"I have to work overtime, now."

Farewell

"But you'll be back. Yes?" Wonka grinned a little, even as he grasped Jack's hand in a goodbye.

Jack nodded. "I'll be back as soon as Halloween dies down; I may bring some ideas with me."

They were outside the factory, in the cool autumn atmosphere that had descended while they'd been inventing and boiling, but only the chocolatier's breath made clouds in the air.

"Dare I ask whether I should procure a good, solid lawyer? For the lawsuits?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Wonka," was all Jack said, winking, before he vanished.