Author's note: Have had major problems with this chapter for several reasons. The first was that I got into a whole Only-Writing-Harry-Potter-Fanfictions mood, so all my CatCF fics took a back seat (as well as my Red Dwarf ones). The second was that I hadn't watched the film for so long that I had absolutely zip inspiration – that was easily cured by watching the film three times in a row (and repeating the TV Room scene several times :D). The third, and most annoying, reason was The Dreaded Writer's Block. Not good when my creative writing coursework for English was due in a couple of weeks ago. Anyway, I'll stop babbling now and let you read my feeble attempt at chapter 5 of Mike Wins.

"Are you kidding?" Mike said eyeing the red suit Wonka was clutching in his hands.
"Nope!" Wonka said brightly, "When you took those couple of days off, I took the opportunity to whip up some clothing for you. Because, and no offence intended here, skulls and blood don't exactly suggest finest chocolate."
Mike stroked the hem of his shirt protectively, "There's nothing wrong with my clothes! Besides, I am not wearing that."
"Why not?"
"Well, there's no black in it, for a start," he began, "it's about four sizes too big, I never wear collars, particularly those with large emblems, I'm not limp therefore I don't need a cane, and the first and foremost reason why I won't wear this: it would make me look like YOU."
Wonka looked vaguely hurt, like when you don't pay attention to a puppy for ten minutes, "I just thought I'd try and liven up your wardrobe."
"Well…don't."
Mike was sure he could have come up with a better comeback than that, but he was just so desperate to get Wonka out of his office.
"Can you go now?"
"OK, fine," Wonka said sulkily, cramming the offending outfit into a bag, and pouting dreadfully, "I'll remember your rudeness next time I invite you round to dinner."
"You never invite me round to-"
But Wonka had already left.
"Not that I'd show up!" Mike yelled after him.
He groaned in frustration and slumped in his seat, biting the tip of his thumb in thought. He couldn't stay there much longer. He just couldn't. He'd go mad. He did have a plan set for action, but it would take weeks, if not months. He angrily pulled open a drawer and rifled through it, dragging out vast blueprints and overflowing files and folders. Muttering quietly to himself about how idiotic and childish Wonka was, he flicked through the masses of paper, crossing bits out and adding notes in the margins. He was determined to get as much done as possible before the finance meeting he and Wonka had planned that evening. Two hours trapped in a room, trying to explain to five major bank executives why loaning ten thousand dollars to a financially insecure chocolate factory to develop a video game really was a good idea. Joy.
And there was still one more problem to sort out…

"Are you insane?"
Mike had expected this reaction from Wonka, but he persisted.
"Think about it: you've already let five kids into your factory. And they all left horribly maimed in some way. So they're not exactly going to talk about their experiences."
"That Salt kid did."
Mike sighed, "That was different. Veruca sold her story to the press for attention, and she blew it totally out of proportion. I was there – there were not three thousand squirrels. Anyway, my point is the rest of the world is still wondering exactly what lies within the walls of this factory. Why, I can't be sure, 'cause I sure as hell don't care, but for some reason your business has held some fascination with everyone else. It's only fair to let them know without hurting them or drowning them or…I dunno…burning them."
Wonka frowned, "How many did you say?"
"However many apply," Mike shrugged, with an air that suggested it could be anywhere from one to one hundred…although he knew it would be nearer one thousand.
Wonka got up and paced the room, "And you'd be in charge?"
"Yes," Mike replied firmly, then added in an undertone, "I don't trust you not to screw this up for me."
"OK then," Wonka said eventually, "As long as you take full and total responsibility."
Mike smiled, "Gladly."
He made a big, fake bow and turned to the door, his smile turning into a smirk, "Gladly…"