Disclaimer: I only own the mere idea of this story and nothing more. Roald Dahl owns the characters and story of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Otherwise, I would have been rich by now.

Chapter Four

Mike Teavee sat on the family couch in the living room, flipping through the channels of the television. Finding nothing that interested him, Mike turned the television off and stretched out on the couch. He used to love television with his heart and soul, but now it gave him no relief, no happiness whenever he watched a show where the bad guy was obliterated by the good guy. It was such a thrill, such a rush, but now he became utterly bored with the whole concept. When did the change occur?

Mike sat up with a start. He knew exactly when his addiction for television was kicked. It was that day when he went to spend the day at Willy Wonka's factory. That lousy good-for-nothing that teased him with that TV room where he had shrunk, and then stretched 'till he was extremely tall and thin and a bit fuzzy around the edges. Of course several weeks after, Mike had shrunk a little and became a little bit more normal, but still he was too tall and thin for his age. Heck, if you looked close enough, you could still see a bit of shimmering like a bad TV signal.

Well, he couldn't just sit here anymore. He had to face his demons on a face-to-face basis and tell that booger of a man named Wonka how much his life had been ruined by Wonka's inventions. Mike could remember on that day when he and his father came home and his mother saw how much her son had changed. She had shrieked and fainted and when she was revived she dragged him off to the doctor's.

Of course the doctor couldn't do anything and could only advise that Mike stay home for a long vacation and for everybody's sake to keep him from the television. But what Mike's parents didn't know was that Mike occasionally snuck in the living room after they were asleep at night or when they left to watch TV. But that didn't do anything for his satisfaction. And the only thing he, Mike Teavee could think of was go back to Wonka's factory and face the man who had given him a lot of grief.

"Mike, what are you doing?" Mr. Teavee asked from the kitchen table, who was reading the newspaper.

Mike shrugged. "I was just thinking, is all. I was thinking maybe we should go see Willy Wonka."

Mrs. Teavee, who was sitting in her rocking chair knitting, looked up and glared at her son. "Why would you want to do such a thing, Mike? He has changed your figure forever, I'm sure it'll give him great satisfaction to see you so disfigured."

"Yes, but it's about facing your demons, Mom," Mike said. "That's the theme of most major movies."

"Now, Mike, what did we say about television? We aren't to talk about it or ever watch it again," Mr. Teavee exclaimed sharply.

Mike shrugged. "I was just making an example, Dad. I don't know any other examples that I could give."

"Maybe we should start going to the library every week. It would do you a whole lot of good, son," Mrs. Teavee put in.

Mike rolled his eyes. "We already go every other week, why should we increase the number? I'm doing well enough on that, don't you think?"

"You're mother's right, maybe we should go every week. It'll be better than you lounging around the house trying to resist the temptations of the television that's in front of you," Mr. Teavee said.

"Ah, geez, dad, do we have to?" Mike complained.

"Yes, young man, you are and don't give me any grief upon it. And that's final," Mr. Teavee shouted.

Mike fell into silence. Seventeen years old and his parents still controlled his life. Well, he supposed he could survive until his eighteenth birthday and then he could live his own American dream. Mike smiled. Now that was something to look foreword to. But first, he has some things to do. Standing up, Mike stretched, looking at his parents.

"I think I might head up to my room and turn in early," Mike exclaimed. "I'm a little tired."

"If you wish, son, but first read another chapter in your book," Mrs. Teavee stated.

Mike smiled and nodded. "As you wish."

Saying goodnight Mike went to his room and closed the door behind him. He didn't have any plans to read as Mr. and Mrs. Teavee suggested. Sitting at his desk, Mike pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. He was going to write to Willy Wonka and no one was going to stop him.

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Author's Note: Once again, I'm sorry for the lack of updates, but I had to study for an AP test and my final exams are coming up and everything's wild as all the teachers and students are running around trying to wrap things up. So I'm keeping busy. But maybe, hopefully in the near future I'll have the time to update more frequently. But thank you for your hard-earned patience and I hope nobody's too mad at me.

On another note, if there's a story that I've lovingly neglected for a while but you want to see continued, send me a message and I'll see what I can do.

Thanks again for everybody's patience and I hope you all continue to read and review, it'll make my day, and I'll try harder in the future to keep the updates coming.