"Mr. Wonka!" Charlie Bucket, a fifteen year old boy, yelled over the noises the machine said man was currently hunched over, trying to solve whatever problem it had, "I'm going to go to thelibrary. We need to have a poem of our choice for english class. I'll be back soon, okay?"
Mr. wonka just smiled and nodded at his young protege' and turned back to his malfunctioning machine, grumbling all the while at how he would make it work.
Charlie just giggled quietly and jogged out of the room and toward the boat. Mr. Wonka really was a great man. A bit frightening, but that just added to him being strangely likeable.Hr Looked up to the man. At first like a father, then more of a brother once he realized he really wasn't that mature. Then as a normal everyday friend. The one you would look forward to going to school with. The only reason you even felt like going to school.Then, it turned to even something more. Something he couldn't place his finger on. It almost felt like a crush, but he knew it wasn't that. It felt more deep than that. More meaningful than that.
Putting it to the back of his mind, Charlie got into the boat and, like every time before-
hand, was one of the most thrilling things he'd ever been on.
Charlie walked calmly from the front doors of the chocolate factory, trying to appear nonchalant. People always seemed to want his autograph, or at worst tackle him and take a bit of his clothing.
Luckily, it was slightly raining, so no one was out, save for a stray cat here and there.
He passed many houses and valued each one. What with all the commotion of stepping outside,
he was never able to truly appreciate a normal neighborhood. And considering he lived in a
chocolate factory, nothing there was ever normal.
As the library came into view, he began wondering what genra of poem he wanted to use. There was always using a good dramatic one, which would have a big probabilaty of getting a good grade. Teachers would understand the depth of it and know the student comprehended it the same way. Or he could use a comedy. Make the teacher in a good mood.
Then as Charlie walked through the front doors and into the poetry section, he knew the right way to handle it would be a romantic poem. Not an overly-sappy one, and not one with almost no feeling to it.
Charlie went through book after book of love poems, authors who didn't quite catch his eye.
But one made him stop. He began to read:
"I Will Love You Forever
I love you so deeply,
I love you so much,
I love the sound of your voice
And the way that we touch.
I love your warm smile
And your kind, thoughtful way,
The joy that you bring
To my life every day.
I love you today
As I have from the start,
And I'll love you forever
With all of my heart.
- Amanda Nicole Martinez -"
Charlie stopped reading immediantly. Suddenly, an image of Mr. Wonka came into his head. He
shook it, trying to clear it, but the image refused to leave. Mr. Wonka, smiling at him. Mr.
Wonka looking deeply dissapointed as Charlie refused his offer to live with him. Mr. Wonka,
Giving off that goofy giggle of his. Mr. wonka, Mr. Wonka, Mr. wonka.
Charlie leaned up against on the of the bookshelves and slid to the floor, his eyes never leaving the book. He sighed and thunked his head agianst one of the wooden shelves until one of the people "Shushed!" him rather loudly. He gave them a blank and tired stare, but did nothing else.
He finally realized what the feeling he had for Mr. Wonka was. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew it was true.
He was in love with Willy Wonka.
Charlie trudged home, deeply regretting not having an umbrella with him. He had book the within his jacket to save it from the downpour that was currently making him shiver occassionaly. He hated the rain.
As he got closer to the giant factory, making it looked like mountains in the blurry vision through the rain, he wondered if he was going to act any differently towards his mentor.
His question was answered as he opened the door, taking off his jacket and handing it to an Oompa-Loompa that scurried up to him as he entered. Luckily, His jacket took most of the damage. The book was fine.
Mr. wonka came striding down the long and narrow hall in his trademark outfit, minus the tophat. Once he took in Charlie appearence, he immediantly began fussing over him.
"Oh, Charlie! You're all wet! Come on! Let's get you out of these clothes. He called for an Oompa-Loompa. One came running with a fresh, warm towel. Right out of the drier.
Mr. Wonka took it from him, gave him a grateful nod, and placed it on Charlie shoulders, rubbing him arms in a way to keep him slightly warm.
As they walked down the hall in silence, Charlie was fidgeting. It felt so good to have Mr. Wonka's arms just draped over him like that. Luckily for him, said man only took the fidgeting for termbling and only increased the pressure he used to keep Charlie warmer.
As they came to the Great Glass Elevator and stepped in, charlie finally said something.
"Mr. Wonka?" he said, voice smaller and softer than usual, "Can I talk to you about something?"
Mr. wonka looked at him curiously, then nodded his head with a small smile. "'Course ya can!" He all but giggled.
"I-" Charlie broke off. He wasn't going to do this. He couldn't. No, he could. He looked Mr.Wonka square in the face, but knew it was a mistake as soon as he did it.
Charlie sighed heavily.
"After I get dried off, why don't I help you fix your machine?"
Sorry for that! I couldn't figure out a way to make him confess himself without is being all sappy and mushy and cheesey.
Comments are much appreciated!
