It was an ambitious plan, but Veronica knew it had to work. She called in almost convincingly sick to work, and managed to get the day off. Then she strode to her closet and whipped open the doors… only to be met by a wall of khaki skirts and bland, well starched shirts. She sighed. Perhaps it would be more work than she had expected…

An hour later, she had totaled her bedroom, drawers flung on the bed, their contents appearing to have exploded from them. A pair of silk stockings lay, draped limply over a lampshade, and pairs of shoes Veronica hadn't seen since high school littered the floor, mismatched and hopelessly searching for their mates. Veronica had left the room in this state and rushed from the house, walking as quickly as a pair of black stiletto heels would allow. She was furiously blinking away the tears that her seldom-used contact lenses often created, hoping against hope that her mascara wouldn't run. Finally, the steely gates loomed before her eyes and she stood outside them and resolutely knocked.

A small boy, no more than ten or eleven, opened the doors, ran up to the gates, and asked what business she was on.

"I am here to see Mr. Wonka." Was all she said.

"I'm sorry then, Miss." Said the boy. "Mr. Wonka isn't feeling well. And he's definitely not having guests."

"Well then you may tell Mr. Wonka that I am prepared to stand here all day in shoes with higher heels than even he wears, and if he doesn't wish to inflict so much pain on one individual, he would do well to come to these gates immediately and let me in before I make a scene." Veronica said stoutly.

"Yes, Miss." Said the boy, walking away.

Veronica stood at the gates for nearly a half hour before the doors to the factory creaked open again. It was not Wonka, but the boy.

"Mr. Wonka says to tell you that you may come in and wait for him in the room of roses. He will be with you shortly."

"I don't think so, young man. Unless he comes personally to collect me, I shall stay right here. And you may want to tell him that I think a blister is developing on my left foot. I haven't worn these shoes since… the junior prom."

"Yes miss." Sighed Charlie. He went in again and shortly after, Willy Wonka appeared, leaning slightly on his cane as he walked, not looking at the gates.

"You were waiting at the door the whole time, weren't you?" Veronica asked.

"As a matter of fact I—" Wonka stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at Veronica. She was standing there in the stiletto heels, a tiny black skirt, and a blue shirt with the three top buttons undone. Her hair was curling softly around her face and cascading down her shoulders, and she looked as if she had been preparing all day for a very romantic evening.

"You're HOT!" Was all the chocolatier could muster.

"Oh, thank you, do you really think so?" Veronica said pettily, twirling an auburn curl around her finger. "Well, get over it. We have business to discuss." And with that, she pushed the gate open, strutted inside, slid a hand up the candymaker's shoulder, and guided him, backwards and staring at her all the way, in through the factory doors.

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier...

It wasn't long before Veronica was sitting on the bench in the room of roses again, this time facing a very different Willy Wonka.

"Now that I have your attention…"

"Boy, do you!"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt at the moment, Mr. Wonka. As I say, I am a very busy girl, and I have business to discuss." Veronica said dryly. "Now, I am no psychologist, but it appears to me that you have some serious issues. Mostly, I want to talk about those ever present defense mechanisms of yours. I'm sorry, but they have to go."

"Geez, you sure are a downer…" Wonka replied.

"I told you not to interrupt. How about this… If you're a good boy and listen to me and try to be open to my suggestions… maybe, just maybe, you'll get a reward. Ok?"

Wonka nodded fervently.

"Good. Now, I suppose it would be a bit forward of me, practically a perfect stranger, to start prying into your past, but… I need to know how it is you ended up building all these walls around yourself. And… by walls I don't mean the physical ones… obviously you built them too… but I'm referring to the psychological walls. Could you maybe tell me about your childhood?"

"I don't wanna get into that…" He replied uneasily.

"Ok… well then, could you tell me why you feel so isolated? Were you teased as a child?"

At this suggestion, the chocolatier made a face Veronica clearly interpreted as extremely uncomfortable with the situation. She sighed and tried a new tack.

"When I was 12, I got these horrible glasses, truly horrible. And all the kids at school used to tease me about them. But instead of being upset and self conscious, I told myself that I was more than just those little bits of glass resting on my nose and that friends and glasses come and go, but I would always be me."

"And your point is..?"

"Oh come now, you're much more astute than that. You tell me my point."

"You're trying to tell me that I shouldn't be so closed off to other people, and that I should just open up and not be afraid to be who I really am. Honestly, my real therapist has been telling me that for years!"

"Then why don't you just listen? It's excellent advice."

"Until you came… this is who I was."

"But they were walls even then."

"Yes, but I could lie to myself and tell myself that it was alright that I had them."

"And after yesterday… I made you confront the truth and…"

"I can't lie to myself anymore…"

"It's that simple…" Veronica mused. "I suppose you taught me something too. And that's the other thing I came to tell you. I wanted to thank you for teaching me that the world doesn't have to be so complicated, and that I don't have to be so… grown up. I guess maybe that was the problem with both of us? I was too grown up and you… just weren't there yet. And I think maybe now we're on an even playing field… Anyway, I wanted to say thank you…" And she reached out to touch his face, but before she got there, he flinched and pulled away.

"Oh dear… perhaps we're leaving something for another day?" She asked. "Listen, I'm not going anywhere. You've got me for good now, whether you like it or not. And I won't do anything intentionally to hurt you, so trust me, and maybe together we'll help you get it together before the candy suffers… You don't want any disappointed fans do you?" And she reached out and took one of his purple-gloved hands, held it for a moment, and then laid it against her own cheek and closed her eyes. And he didn't pull away.