Chapter Nine: A Brilliant Return

In Which there are more Risque Jokes Than Ever, and also Children with Big Glassy Eyes

The main problem, as I saw it, was that there were approximately a billion children in the world and, therefore, there wasn't much chance of these horrific specimens being taken, should I put them up for adoption. I wondered if there was any money in the child slave market these days. Would I get in trouble for doing that? Would I be able to buy my way out of it? Would the money I made selling the kids in the first place pay for my extensive legal bills? Was there life after death? Was there any chance of meeting some nice girl with good teeth who was even more socially retarded than I was?

"No," said Becky.

"Hush!" I commanded, "I was having a rhetorical conversation." I hate it when people answer me when I talk to myself.

"Maybe you shouldn't talk out loud, then," suggested Mandy.

"There you go again!" Will I never be free of the idiocy in the world?

"Not as long as you have yourself," said Mandy and Becky together, snickering, and I scowled.

"That's it! All you kids, out, out! Get out of my factory, get out of my room, get out of my head and don't forget to wipe your feet before you step outside!"

A blank stare.

"Why?" said Nebbish the Third. Blankly staring.

"Because I don't want you tracking up my nice clean cement, of course! What astupid question. Shoo, now, off you go."

"But Mr. Wonka," whined the gum chewing girl, "what about our prize?"

I gave them a blank stare of my very own. It was a much better version than their's, but this is only to be expected. I am Willy Wonka, after all.

Aren't I?

I think I am. I think, therefore I am. Sometimes I don't think, therefore I'm not, therefore did I just prove that I don't exist? These questions were confusing me.

"Not surprised," sighed Becky. "They're confusing all of us."

"Shut up!" I barked. "Nobody asked your opinion!"

I felt a tug at my pants leg and was about to tell Mandy to leave my trousers alone again, when I chanced to look down and beheld it to be an Oompa Loompa, looking rather distressed. In short order, he informed me, via a series of outre gestures and rude noises, kind of like a pretentiousFrench film, that there was someone to see me outside.

"Who?" I demanded, crossing my arms. "I don't step outside forjust anybody, you know."

The Oompa Loompa stared for a minute, breathing hard, then indicated that it was important. I stared back and, in the process, discovered that having a staring contest with a person only thirty inches tall is rather on the difficult side. I gave up, eventually, and, trying to get my neck back into place,walked sideways towards the front door. The children followed me, like little parasites running after some gothic version of thePied Piper of Hamlin. I never trusted that story anyway. How exactly does a piper get pied? It doesn't sound verylegitimate to me. Legitimacy isn'talways a big concern forme, of course, but I do think that if there's corrupt money tobe made then I should at least get a foot in the door early on. This isn't exactly something I can advertise, being in the business of candy. Unless I could put a positive spin on it somehow; "Corruption is your Friend!" maybe, in big friendly yellow letters. "Corruption Followed Me Home: Can I Keep It For A Pet?"

I walked into the doorframe three times before Imade it all the way through. Methinks I shouldn't have made them out of invisible wallpaper, even if it is lickable.

Once outside I was ready to turn on that bloody Oompa Loompa. Important, indeed! Why, it was only Slugworth. Istared him down. He's taller, so it was a bit easier. Unfortunatelyhe's also wall-eyed. I dodged side to side, trying to succeed in getting his gaze, but it was a lost battlebefore it began. So I straightened my shoulders and fixed one of his eyes with as firm a gaze as I myself could manage. To my credit, he flinched.

"Is there a problem, you despicable horse-faced fiend?"

"Of course there's a problem," he blustered. "There's always a problem! You've been stealing my recipes again, and furthermore I accuseyou of cruelty toanimals!"

"Nonsense!" I boomed, and gestured at the kidforce behind me. "They're fine!"

Heblinked. The effect was somewhat like watching a fish who's got an eyelash caught in his eye and can't seem to get it out, no matter what he does. "I was referring toyour fur coat."

"Oh. That."

"But there is, of course, the matter of the children. What concerns me the most is that you have them in your clutches and without parental supervision."

I spread my arms and appealed to thecrowd behind him. "Who do you think I am, Michael Jackson?"

There was a pause as they took certain aspects of me in. I scowled and adjusted my sunglasses.

"Nonsense!" I pulled out the bullhorn I used on occasion. "Nonsense!" I informed them, louder.

Slugworth shooks his head. "Let us address the difficulty of my recipes."

Ifolded my arms. That's surprisingly difficult to do in such a big coat. "Its well known that you are the one who steals recipes,Slugworth, not I."

"Ohreally?" he fumed. "Oh really? Oh really? Really? Oh?"

"What do you have to say to that?"

"Oh really? Really? Oh?"

"Anything else?"

"Oh really?"

"Apparently not." I sighed, waved to thecrowd, and turned to go.

"Just a darn minute!" cried Slugworth from behind me, and I turned to him once more. He dug in aslimy pocket and yanked something unidentifiable but definitely sleazy from it. "What do you make of these?"

I frowned. "Not much. What are they?"

"My nuts!" cried Slugworth triumphantly, and the crowd, as one voice, said, "Yuch."

"They belong inone of my delicious candy bars,"the corrupt candyman went on, rolling them around in his palm and advancing on me with a light in his eye like a demented ferret. "They'rea special species ofBlack Forest Walnut, coming complete with a cherry."

I snorted. "I'll bet."

Slugworth glared. To be glared at byawalleyed man is nothing to be sneezed at, although it is certainly something to be frightened by. I took a step back involuntarily. "I developed them. I made them. I created them. I invented them. I bore them. They're mine. You're using them."

I paused for a moment, and narrowed my eyes at him. A useless gesture, since he couldn't see past my sunglasses, but I putforth the effort nonetheless. "Nuts," I repeated quietly. "Youdeveloped, made, created, invented, and bore them, they're yours, and you say I use them? Nonsense. In fact, nuts. Nuts? I say nuts to your nuts!" I threw my arms in the air and turned to the crowd. "A deliberate smear campaign! He's trying to get at me and using his nuts to pave the way! Seize him!"

The crowd roared, like a whale tryingfor the tenth time to set the VCR to record the six AM showing of The Addams Family and, again, failing. They advanced on Slugworth, and proceeded to steal his wallet. I cheered them on. The children cheered them on. We were very cheerful, all told. However, I heard a discussion going on to my left.

One old man leaned over to another old man and whispered, consumptively, "They always did say that Wonkawas a little nuts."

I turned on them. "Nonsense!" I bellowed. "There's nothing little about my nuts! I'm well known to have the largest in the business!Squirrels adore them!"

Unexpectedly, this toorecieved a cheer. I waved once more to the crowd, and turned again to go back inside.

But there was a voice in the crowd, and some movement, and a scrawny, underfed little boy came tumbling out of the cheering mass of candy-consuming humanity. He stepped forward, eyes wide and glassy, nose pug, face freckled, ears ajar. He lifted a trembling finger and pointed at Mandy and Becky.

"Those girls stole my ticket!" he said.

Time stood still, like it wanted the papparazzi to get a good shot.