I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
Chapter 23
Plans and a Bath
Mr Willy Wonka slipped into his cabin and barred the door behind him. He noticed the tub of water was still steaming, with a fresh bar of soap and a clean towel to its side. Willy quickly undressed and let the warm water wash away the memories of the day.
He thought of poor Charlie and his dear family. Willy Wonka did have attachments, and they were very dear to him. He did not know what he could do. Fate mingled in these two men's lives, and he felt, if it was meant to be, it would mingle again.
The solitary silver hair was the harbinger of things to come. Charlie would just have to cope with what it meant sooner than he thought. He had hoped to train him, teach him his ways. But sometimes hardship is the best teacher, a lesson Willy Wonka knew all too well.
There was the possibility that the rogue was taking over his place in the world, and Willy Wonka felt that was worse than his death. He could not imagine Charlie and the collective Buckets having to deal with a pirate captain.
There was also the chance that he had died, and this was his afterlife. But that really made no sense, unless the rogue died at the exact same time. Still no sense. Mr Wonka shrugged, changed back into his clothes, broach laid aside for the moment, and laid down.
He rolled over on his side and sighed. What was he going to do with the mumbler and the young lady? Maybe they would have to be his new Buckets. That thought saddened him. And where would he be if he could not make chocolates? He had to have something for his creative outlet.
Maybe he could whittle. The thought came to him solely out of thinking about what tools he had. "That would just be dumb." He decided right then and there to take it one day at a time. He would get some more respectable gloves and a top hat, he hoped, in London, and work on it from that point on.
He felt he really needed his psychologist at that moment. He was so good. Willy laid on his back and pretended he was there. "I really miss my factory, but I don't know what to do to get back. And then there's the Mumbler and that girl I imprisoned. I just don't know what to do"
He looked into the black oblivion for inspiration, he found none, so he stared at the ceiling again. "I guess I can try and make this whole icky situation work. Take baby steps. Right now, I'll sleep, and in the morning I'll wake up, shave, and figure out what to do with those people."
He looked back towards the blackness once more. "You're good." He rolled over again and promptly fell asleep.