A/N: All right, here's a bit more...well a lot more P I didn't want to break this section of it up so you get the whole bit of it. I wrote a few more pages of where I'm currently up to so that means you can have a little more . I should really do my work some day sigh Daemonfaeriequeen xxx


An eerie drumming started from somewhere down the river. Drifting alongside the chocolate waterfall was a watermelon-pink boat. It shone like a glazed humbug, a banana-split mass with an unshapely mound for the prow.

Edward, who had managed to get a considerable amount of cream filling on his top lip, gasped and pointed at the vessel.

"Oh that?" William asked. "She's real hot, isn't she? Made entirely out of a hollowed out piece of candy. Sure there's work to be done on the figurehead. I'm thinking maybe a sea critter or something."

Ichabod raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too overwhelmed.

"You mean to say that you've made a boat that people can actually eat?"

"Absolutely. Well I mean, no, of course you can't eat it. Where would we be if we started chomping all over it? At the bottom of my chocolate river, that's where. Maybe people could lick it, but then…ew… the seating would be all sticky. Remind me to forget to tell the kids that it's edible, will ya?"

"Ch-chocolate river?" the constable stuttered. "Impossible. You couldn't sail anything on that, and, it's most unhygienic!"

Mr Wonka scowled and, instead of muttering to himself, chose to hiss at the room at large.

"See, this is exactly why adult attitudes have no place in the world of an artist."

Edward turned his soulful eyes upon the chocolatier.

"You have children?" he wondered.

"Oh god no, ew!" Mr Wonka cried. "But I am planning on taking some on a tour around the factory soon."

"Now that I'd love to see," Jack exclaimed. He'd lost interest in the stubborn bag he'd snatched. "You keeping tabs on a load of brats in a place like this."

William rolled his eyes.

"They won't be alone. They'll be allowed to bring one p-." He hesitated, gritting his teeth. "They can take along one pa-par-."

"Parent?"

"Yeah! That." Mr Wonka seemed very relieved. "Anyway, that'll all happen once I've produced enough chocolate bars to hide my new Golden Tickets in. They're the invitations, see, and there's only five of them. They'll get sent out all across the world for people to find. Neat, huh?"

Jack's boots had barely touched the floor in his haste to stand before the chocolatier. His eyes glittered innocently, his face so close that Mr Wonka was teetering back from fear of contact.

"That would be what kind of tickets?"

"Golden," William repeated, leaning back on his cane to keep himself upright. "Gold-den. Not gold. Can you imagine how horrible the chocolate would taste under a layer of metal?"

The pirate's face fell. Until he caught sight of the boiled sweet boat approaching the riverbanks. He turned to his audience, hands pressed together as though in prayer.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me."

Jack leapt onto the shell of a jelly pumpkin and sped down the hill towards the river, arms flailing like a scarecrow. He bowled onto the deck of the boat, rolling onto his feet and ending with a flourishing spin.

Mr Wonka started clapping with enthusiasm. Then he noticed the look of distaste coming from the constable.

"You do realise he's stealing your boat?"

"That's commandeering, constable!" Sparrow called. "I'm commandeering his boat."

William tutted at Ichabod.

"See, he's not doing anything bad. Honestly, mister, you have no faith in people at all."

"Commandeering is stealing," Ichabod said testily.

"Oh." Mr Wonka seemed to fall into a lost trance. What little light shone in his ashen face flickered and died. Then, as if something had kick-started a motor inside of him, he burst out with, "Hey! You can't do that! You're not supposed to steal!"

Crane wished he were still unconscious. Being in a room full of lunatics wasn't helping his philosophy of sense and reason. He was starting to crack.

"Mr Sparrow!" His voice had reached a comically high pitch. "I demand that you withdraw from that boat this instant!"

Jack grinned and spread his arms wide in theatrical style.

"I must take my leave of you, good sirs. Onward to plunder to me 'eart's content. Who knows, per'aps I'll find me one of those golden tickmajigs and earn me a pretty penny? This is the day that you will always remember as the day that- OW!"

"Well that was an inspiring speech," Ichabod sneered.

Captain Sparrow was being clubbed mercilessly by a swarm of oar-wielding Oompa Loompas. Crawling out from the mob, he threw himself ashore and tore back up the hill yelling, "Bloody pygmies!"

Mr Wonka hid his grin and waved his workers on their way. Looking rather smug, he prepared himself for the pirate's apology. However, this he didn't get, as the constable was already making a move.

"This has gone far enough!" Crane bellowed, marching up to Sparrow. "I insist that you surrender your weapons, sir, and follow under my orders from now on."

Jack's glazed stare lasted long enough for Ichabod to feel very foolish. Then, without so much as a flicker of warning, the cutlass was drawn. The point rested beneath the constable's chin.

William took this moment to interrupt.

"All that time you were struggling with that little bag, how come you didn't think to slice it open, Mr Sparrow?"

"It's been a long day," came the sulky reply.

"Then why don't you open it and treat yourself to whatever's inside? I think you've earned it by now."

The pirate glanced at Mr Wonka with suspicion. Then at last he lowered his blade and shoved it into Ichabod's hand.

"Hold this."

Jack removed the drawstring bag from his belt then retrieved his sword once more from the confused constable. He slit it open, spilling some of the contents – an assortment of toffee-coloured sweets. As the smell of these delights reached him, his eyes began to water.

"They're…they're rum flavoured!"

Ichabod tutted.

"Oh wonderful. Get the madman drunk why don't you?"

As the pirate fumbled excitedly to take hold of one of the toffees, Wonka stepped up and tugged the constable backwards. Jack was putting a sweet to his lips as the chocolatier snatched hold of Edward too, ensuring they were out of harm's way.

When all hope seemed lost, Jack stopped suddenly, the sweet hovering close to his mouth.

"What's wrong with these things?" he asked.

"Nothing," said William. "They're just a tad…strong."

Jack shrugged and stuffed the toffee into his mouth. One chew was all it took. There was a deafening BANG and he was blasted backwards into the trunk of the candy tree. He slumped to the ground, smoke pouring from his mouth.

"That was bloody amazing," he laughed.

Then he passed out.

The others stood up from their cowering positions. Mr Wonka was feverishly dusting his gloves off from having too much human exposure.

"What in heaven's name was that?" Ichabod wondered, astounded.

"Wonka's Exploding Candy," William replied. "The Oompa Loompas love playing jokes with them. Probably meant for him to steal them all along." The chocolatier set about binding the unconscious pirate with a long whip of liquorice. "There. That oughta hold him."

All three of the remaining acquaintances breathed a sigh and sat upon the glazed path of bonfire toffee snaking its way across the sugar meadow. Several minutes passed where none said a word but simply scanned each other's faces.

"So," the constable said at last. "I think I've come to the likely conclusion that we are in fact not dreaming."

Mr Wonka giggled, looking over at Edward.

"Golly, he's a little behind isn't he?"

Ichabod continued loudly.

"What we should now be considering is the question of our whereabouts. Aside from your chocolate factory," he added hastily as another of the chocolatier's remarks threatened. "We can't possibly all be in the same place at the same time unless there was a very serious tear in the fabric of the universe itself. So I would suppose."

"Wow, Mr Crane, what a terrific theory. You should be a scientist," William exclaimed.

"I am."

"Oh. I thought you said you were a detective."

Ichabod locked his jaw and repeated his last answer.

"Huh," said Mr Wonka, shrugging. "Well I think it's pretty stupid to go around calling yourself only half of what you are. You should think about changing your job title to Constientist or Scientective or something."

The constable sank his head into his hands, appearing on the verge of weeping. Edward's small smile faded at the sight of this poor individual's distress.

"I think you need to be a little nicer to him," he whispered to William.

"Nah, he'll be fine," Wonka beamed. "He's a grown-up. Grown-ups can cope with enormous amounts of stress. That's why they're in charge of all the boring things. Oh, and Mr Edward, don't keep poking the pirate like that, 'kay? You don't know where it's been."

A sharp hissing noise escaped Ichabod's lips before he sat up straight and took up where he had left off.

"What I was trying to say was that I believe we have inadvertently been subjects of time travel. Which means that all of us must look like each other at some point in the course of our lives."

Already the constable was sounding less convinced of his own theory.

"So you figure that each and every one of us will have started out looking like a kitchen utensil (no offence Mr Edward), evolved hands, studied law, developed a dramatic British accent, dropped it, gave up law to become a chocolate-maker and then retook up a more slack edge of the British again to go on a long sailing trip? And whoa, just how does anyone grow that much hair anyway?" Mr Wonka gasped in mock excitement. "Say, maybe he perfected my hair toffee recipe!"

Ichabod gave up.

"I expect you have a better idea?"

"Not an idea. I just know." William said haughtily. "I was in the middle of a breakthrough in inventing the world's first lollipop that would turn you into an alternate version of your very self for a limited time. Just imagine it, one lick and you could find out you were an Egyptian princess!"

His audience frowned.

"Or prince. Anyway, none of my workers wanted to test it out for me so I had to do it myself and, well, instead of turning myself into one of you guys…I accidentally brought you here." He took off his hat, rummaged around inside and produced a lollipop identical to the one he had placed in the machine. "Take a look for yourself. Here's the little scamp that caused all this trouble."

The constable peered at the shining circle of blue on a stick, the picture in its centre like a grinning fish mouth.

"If you knew it wasn't about time travel, why did you paint an hourglass on it?"

"'Cause it's telling you how long the effects are meant to last. If I wanted to show what it does I'd have to put tiny parallel lines everywhere. And that would be just awful, so predictable. Presentation is the key!"

Ichabod looked brighter all of a sudden.

"So when this hour's up, we go back to where we came from?"

"I wouldn't bet on it, sir," William replied ruefully. "The time span was made to cover the event of transforming into someone else on your universal gridlock of existence, not to bounce people around other dimensions."

"My god, that sounds like something I'd say."

"Yeah, it's really startin' to freak me out."