Oh, he'd known this had been a bad idea. He'd known it from the start when his wife had first approached him not even an hour earlier. But had he listened to his gut-wrenching screams of logic? Noooo, he'd listened to his wife's warped excuse for reason. He really had been asking for it. So was it really to anyone's surprise that two very short orange vaguely-humanish looking creatures snatched him by the ears? Well, maybe a little, but not about the "getting caught" bit.

As the two orange things successfully got hold of his head, another two tackled his legs, sending him tumbling down into a puddle of strategically placed chocolate. And that, my friends, is how Willy Wonka discovered our dear Rinald, sputtering and thrashing about in a slippery mess of chocolate syrup.

"What do we have here?" Willy Wonka began. "Do I spy a little thief-sie with my little eye? Ah, I thought not. You're much too large to be little now aren't you? But, a thief, perhaps you are yet. Let us see. Oh, lookie here! What's this?" He took his cane and poked at a metal tray on the ground that looked suspiciously like that of one of his chocolate "Creepie-Crawlie©" molds. "Oh…well this doesn't look too good for your case I must say. Not good at all…Well, good sir, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Rinald, by this time he'd quit moving, sat in silence for a moment staring up at the chocolate maker. "If you've got awhile, I think I can explain," he said dismally.

"Ah, I've nothing but time sir. Please do tell, for this is surely something I'll wish to hear, doubtless," Wonka replied.

Rinald took a deep breath, "Well, you see, it all started when…"

"…And now here I am, speaking with you," he finished.

"I see…" Willy Wonka reflected. He had just spent the past 13 hours and counting listening to, well, when you got down to it, pretty much Rinald's life story. From the day he first discovered the art of building tiny ships in equally small bottles, to his first meeting with Claudia, to their wedding, to Claudia's adamant chocolate needs and the events unfolding thus far.

He sat upon the ground Indian style next to the rather sticky Rinald, whose chocolate coating had dried in sugary gum globs.

"That is quite an interesting story you have there, most of which I can't relate to in the slightest, but still understand nevertheless. I give you my sincerest condolences regarding, erm, well, pretty much everything you've just told me." Willy Wonka told Rinald, who nodded in response. "But, I do hope you realize I can't very well let you get away with it. Attempting to steal the chocolate I mean. There must be some sort of price. Always a price. You can't just walk away with a pale promise of 'I swear I shan't do it again.'"

"I thought not." Rinald sighed wearily.

"So, what shall I take as payment?" the chocolate maker pondered aloud. "Perhaps one of your lovely peacocks? I've always wanted one you know." He glanced sidelong at Rinald.

"No!" the other man said quickly. "You don't want one of them…they're, they're…" he searched for a word. "Too…frothergny!"

Willy cocked an eyebrow, "Frothergny?"

"Yeah…err…frothergny…"Rinald stated awkwardly

"Right…" Wonka let that hang in the air for a moment. "So, what about one of your little ships in a bottle, I find it quite fascinating how---"

Rinald interrupted him with a vehement, "Absolutely not."

"Well alright then," Wonka said, slightly taken back.

"And besides, it not some frivolous hobby," he proclaimed. "It's a very delicate art form I'll have you know." Realizing the oddity of his sudden outburst, he cleared his throat a bit. "Err, sorry about that…"

Willy Wonka stared at him for a moment, as if gauging Rinald's state of mental security before moving on. "Um, well, yes, that's quite all right…What about a chicken? Chickens are perfectly common things. Surely you can spare one."

"But…I like my chickens. I have three of them Dora and Nora and---"

"Yes, yes, I know, Calisto," he finished irritably. "So, perhaps not then… What about some of your prize-winning pumpkins? Best in the county if I'm not mistaken…"

"Well, yes, but, they wouldn't exactly be prize-winning if I didn't have any left to win a prize with, now would they?" Rinald replied testily.

"Okay, then! What about one of your--"

"No," Rinald cut him off.

"But, you don't even know what I'm going to say?" Wonka exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes, but I know my answer all the same."

"Well, what exactly do you want me take as payment?" he said in exasperation. "Your first-born child!"

There was a beat of silence. "That might work…" Rinald began as his face lit up with possibility.

"Wait! WHAT? I was only kidding! I wasn't being serious!" he exclaimed in horror.

"No, no." Rinald insisted. "It's only just payment: my child, for your chocolate. Fair trade."

"But, no, wait just a second! I never agreed to--" he started to protest.

"So it's settled then! We'll meet again in seven months! My wife is already two months in! Farewell my dear friend. Although parting with my child will be such sweet sorrow, I will somehow manage. Good evening to you!" And with that, Rinald hopped the fence and headed back home, leaving a very bewildered Willy Wonka behind wondering just how all of this had managed to come about…