Charlie Bucket? Charlie! Bucket! What a funny name! Just right for someone living in a shed, eating nothing but cabbage soup. Did I invent that too? Did I invent him altogether? Were there really children in my factory? How weird. And kinda gross. Oh well, they're not here now, no harm done, back to business as usual!

My glass elevator doesn't have a button marked "The Bucket Shed" either. Perhaps I just imagined that part though, perhaps we really walked or something. Took a ride with a chocolate truck. But why would I leave the factory to take the boy home if I wanted him to stay here with me?

Gotta think hard about this one.

Perhaps I just wanted to give his grandpa a ride home, can't have grandpas stumbling about in my factory, drooling at things, with their incontinence and senility and all that, makes them clearly unsuitable for chocolate factories. Yeah. Perhaps I just wanted to let this little Charlie Bucket thingie say farewell to his family, a great big farewell with fanfares and tears and stuff before leaving them forever. I'm generous like that.

Stupid part of the plan that was.

Or genius. I'd rather say genius. I don't have children running around in my factory anymore now do I? Then all's well, swell, it was a happy ending after all.

Wait. What if I, Willy Wonka, am just another tiny Oompa-Loompa in someone else's chocolate factory?

Nonsense.

Here we are then. The residence. I'm good at pressing random buttons! After this nerve-wrecking little experience in the oranges: not only fruit room (What was that all about again? I forget.) I could use a nice relaxing bubble bath.

I actually have a bubble bath waterfall too. It's true! It's in the bubble room of course and it leads the foam to my tub by a very long pipe. It takes quite some time to get here so it's a good thing I invented the slow-bursting candy-coloured bubble bath. Who has the patience to wait for the lather to build anyway? My lather is always waiting for me in my bubble bath waterfall and it comes in different colours too! Today it's sort of lavender pinkish which is very fruity. I had it bright red once but it didn't look so nice when I got up to get dressed. After that I changed my towels from alabaster to mauve. Mauve conceals bubble bath stains better. Not that I ever use the same towel twice, but it's not nice to the Oompa-Loompas to only give them stained discarded towels all of the time. I can tell you the Oompa-Loompa who embroiders the little swirly monograms in the corner of each towel is quite the busybody, he, at least, deserves better than stained towels.

It's important that the froth is very frothy and thick. You see, I have the Oompa-Loompas scrubbing my back and doing my nails when I take a bath, and I wouldn't want them to see anything… inappropriate. Now, how would that look?

My bathroom is all covered in marshmallow pink tiles, even the ceiling. I like it like that. It's h-u-g-e and has white chairs and fluffy little white carpets and tall white tables with no other function than to hold a white vase with a sculpted candy flower arrangement in it. I just drop my clothes on the floor, an Oompa-Loompa will pick them up later and wash them and return them to my wardrobe which is a walk-in wardrobe, mind you.

I carefully insert myself into the water, which is kept at a perfect body temperature. Otherwise I would be all flushed and ruddy, how about that? I prefer not to think of it as "body temperature" though. I place my hands on the sides of the tub and stick my toes out in the far end, hell-o toes! nice to see you, how are you doing? yes I know my new shoes hurt a bit but they're so gosh darn fancy, you'll get over it. After checking that the foam is intact I emit the Loompa-call and five Oompa-Loompas come running in with synchronised movements. Four of them carry nail files and the fifth a brush to scrub my back. I hate having my back scrubbed, it hurts and gives me ugly pinkish scratches which doesn't come off for several minutes, but that's the way it's done. The Oompa-Loompas proceed to work on me and I uneasily stir when the one with the brush lends in too close. I irritably remind him to use the entire length of the handle, it's there for a reason, damnit!

My hands are very white and very ticklish. I always fret and wriggle when the Oompa-Loompas do my nails. The skin on my fingertips is so delicate it's almost see-through. I've been trying for years to imitate it in marzipan, never works!

When I'm done with my bath I wait for the Oompa-Loompas to clear the premises. Then I step out of the tub and use the warmed towel I find neatly folded at hand. After that I slip into a lilac silk pyjamas – I have them in all kinds of colours, silver grey, steel blue, dusty rose, emerald green, bordeaux, but all of the colours are very soft, almost washed out, and cool. I put on my white cotton sleeping gloves, because there is no way of telling where your hands are going when you sleep, and proceed to brush my hair. A hundred strokes a day! Of course, I could have an Oompa-Loompa do that for me, too, but I like to feel the texture of it. Wearing sleeping gloves is almost wearing no gloves at all. I pop my head in the hairdryer for a minute, simultaneously inserting the toothbrusher to save time. Very efficient. The toothbrusher is moulded after my teeth and brushes all of them from all sides at once. I always hated brushing my teeth so that was a major scientific breakthrough for me. See, I don't always make candy, even if that's how my genius is put to its best use.

My bedroom is light blue with silver stars on the walls and in the ceiling, and my bed, which isenormous and standing in the middle of the room with space on all sides, has rich dark blue velvet curtains. The silk sheets are in a cool blue somewhere in between the light walls and the dark curtains, and it has a whole heap of pillows in different shades of blue. There's absolutely nothing else in the room, apart from the carpet which is so thick I wade to my ankles in it and so dark blue it's almost black, and a carpet isn't really a piece of furniture, is it? I like to keep it like that, the bedroom for my bed, the what's in store room for checking what's in store, you get the point. Why would I need other stuff in here, I've got plenty of other rooms to do other things in, one room for each thing you could possibly imagine and if there's one missing I'll just build it! There's always room for another, somehow.

My bedroom has no windows, none of the rooms in my factory has, which is great since I don't need any roller blinds. I just say "lights out" and I'm in the dark. But I don't say that just yet, it would leave me fumbling my way to the bed in the dark, resulting in aching toes and perhaps other body parts aching as well from bumping into the bedposts. Instead I find my way to the bed, in the light, and slink in under the ultra lite down comforter. Then I sort of wriggle my way to the centre of the bed, which leaves the sheets wrinkly and is really impractical, why did I make the bed so darn big? Well, at least it looks impressive! I put my head on the pillow I always rest my head on, the light sort of purplish, silverish blue one, it goes the bestest with my hair. Then I fold my hands neatly on top of the quilt and I'm all cosy and ready to sleep.

I'm in control

When I close my eyes, all of the lights go out in the factory. I already said that, didn't I?

Lights out.