Chocolate Factory

Ch.3 Mr. Enigma

"Hello...little girl."

She couldn't speak. It was as if her tongue had swallowed itself as she stared at the man (she finally determine the gender that she was clueless about) in front of her. He was definitely one of a kind as she glanced at his entire figure.

His complexion was that of the pale, creamy color that resembles that of either vanilla frosting or when you mix flour and milk together. She had believed for most of her life (til this very moment actually) that she had the palest complexion of the entire human race even though, despite hours and hours (too numerous to count) of possible sun absorption, her skin, unfortunately, seemed to be immune to it. This fellow however, seemed as if he was allergic to the sun, and a simply reflection of his skin by the sun's unmerciful rays could possibly cause a drastic turn on his complexion that might resemble the process of a waxen candle being tortured by a flamed match. It seemed as if he had never seen a single sunny day in his entire life. Whether it was true or not, she guessed she would have to inquire about it.

He wore the oddest combination of garments, which only added to the enigma forming in Erin's mind. On his feet he wore pinpoint tipped, heeled ebony boots, which she only assumed he wore to either make himself feel taller, or perhaps to feel in control since he was in fact taller. He was probably, roughly, 6", a good two inches ahead of her, and that was with the boots. So without them she figured them to be around the same height. He wore tight clinging pants, belted at the hips, that shaped, surprising, well defined muscled, but still lean, legs and calves.

Over that he seemed to be wearing a black turtleneck that wrapped like a an easily removable scarf around his neck, and draping over was a violet trench coat, that looked quite comfortable and warm (which cause Erin to be slightly puzzled seeing as the large room they were in was immensely incubated), and circled down around his knees and billowed behind him as he walked, being to privy to a demonstration when he appeared out of nowhere and walked toward them minutes before.

Her eyes now lingered up his long, defined neck, to his blanch face and noticed, quite pleasantly, that the features she found were utterly delightful. Almost even, scrumptious.

His nose was average in length, in between the line of large and small. Just right. And it even seemed to have a delicate point at the end, that you just felt like tapping. His face was extremely angulate, and it seemed his face was all hollows and shadows. It wasn't the cliche picture of a starved person, no, not at all. It was more the kind of hand-sculpted masterpiece in a different type of wrapping, as it were, as she passed over his cheekbones that were unusually high in his face and prominent. Slowly traveling up she noticed brown hair with the slightest tint of red (kind of like a mild auburn) shining under the dim light, as if he took much care in its appearance. The ensemble was completed by a dusky top hat that resemble one from the Fred Astaire era, and her eyes weave over the stitching of lavender thread.

"Who are you?" the peculiar man asked, his voice laced with what seemed to be an over exaggerated curiosity, as well as a hint of aggitation.

Her blue eyes traveled toward his inquisitive gaze, and as she bore back into them, she couldn't help but ponder about how they were such a delicate shade of lavender. She had never seen eyes like that before...

"Ahem." he coughed slightly, causing Erin's focus to be once again, on the interesting man in front of her. She felt a blush creep onto he cheeks and wondered lightly if he had noticed her staring.

Had she been staring long? Did he notice? Did he...

"I asked what your name is...why does every single person in the gosh darn world have to be so rude as to not answering one simple question, especially since it's the first one that pops into your head as soon as you meet someone. Everybody knows that." He said in a mocking tone, as if she was the most ignorant creatures to have stepped through the door.

"It's Erin," she held out her hand, "Erin McKinley."

He made a gesture to take her hand, his long fingers stretching out slightly, causing the purple dentist type gloves to groan in protest, but, as if not trusting her hand, he curled his hand back into a fist and simply stared at hers until it fell limp at her side, admitting defeat.

"Fine, don't shake my hand. But most people shake hands when they meet someone for the first time. It's called being polite. Everybody knows that." She said staring haughtily into his eyes, waiting for her blatant jest to sink in.

He coughed slightly, and smiled back at her comment, but no friendless shined through.

"Wouldn't want to get my hands, I mean, your hands dirty. See, making chocolate...couldn't be messy."

"Oh I understand, must be a major dilemma shaking hands. With the dirty gloves on and all."

"Exactly." he said nodding his head in agreement, not really registering that she had basically told him he was just being rude and all he had to do was take the stupid gloves off, but he didn't care. All he cared about was why she was in his chocolate factory.

He opened his mouth to ask that very same question, but she beat him to the punch.

"Who are you?"

"Me?"

"Yes you, or are there more squeaky voiced, violet gloved, gangly men like you running around in here?"

"First of all I don't run...I stroll."

She rolled her eyes at the comment.

"Two...I am not gangly, just lacking meat."

"And three..." he thought for a moment, and then shifting his head slightly to the side, he laughed a quick note before saying, "ha, guess there was no three."

"Yeah whatever, who are you again?"

"I am...Willy Wonka." He said dramatically slowly emphasizing each word, making sure she had every syllable into her tiny head. After all he was famous.

"Who?"

His mouth sprang open slightly and his tinted eyes boggled out.

"You mean," he said gazing side to side, "you've never heard of me?"

"Nope, can't say that I have. Are you famous or something?"

Glancing at Charlie, his smile strained, he grasped the young boy's shoulder tightly and said in a no nonsense tone (if that was possible) and said, "Charlie, a moment please. Will only take a second little girl. You can wait that long can't you?"

"I guess so." She said, gritting her teeth tightly, disliking this man intensely more with each passing moment. If he called her 'little girl' one more time.

"Oh good." He said, staring at her strangely, like he'd never seen such a person before, and then led Charlie a few good feet away out of Erin's earshot.

"What is that?"

"Don't you mean whom?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, the point is why is that, I mean why is she in my factory?"

Charlie explained what Erin had said moments before Mr. Wonka arrived, and at the end of the telling, Mr. Wonka almost seemed a little sympathetic.

" Oh I see...wow."

"Yes, so I was wondering, Mr. Wonka, if she could perhaps, um, stay here with us..."

"Wait, what, whoa, Charlie are you kidding me? I mean she is like the devil's spawn in a pleasant colorful Caramel Scrumptious Delight wrapper. She can't stay her, and that's final."

"Why not? She will be in one of the thousand rooms that you never go in, or even know exists."

"That's poppycock...preposterous...and not to mention insane." he added, accentuating the last word pointedly with his gloved forefinger.

"Please Mr. Wonka." Charlie pleaded, using those puppy eyes that no adult, even one of a slightly unnerved mind, could protest against,

Mr. Wonka, trying to look away from the hard to ignore display in front of him, looked with a painful grimace back at Erin who was rocking back on her heels and staring at the immensely wide spacing of the metallic ceiling. He repeatedly glanced back and forth from the puppy dog to the spawn, as if he were watching a tennis match.

Finally he sighed dramatically, and slapping his hands loudly against his thighs he said quietly. "Fine."

And stomping off like a petulant child, he made his way back toward his clear glass elevator. He stopped suddenly, pulled out what appeared to be a car alarm device, pressed it, and smiled slightly as the elevator lit up twice, indicating its position, ans ensuring that he could safely get inside without risking injury to his head.

And with that he was zinging off into another room in the factory, which was, he hoped, far, far away from where Ms. Erin McKinley was making her temporary home.

A/N I didnt expect having this many reviews already. Go you wonderful reviewers. I dont think I did a very good job writing up Wonka's character so far. Would love to hear all your comments on it. Most appreciated. R&R savvy?