Author's note: Yes, we're finally at the factory.

ZK: I'm not telling you :P
Sunrise over the Tango Factory: Excuse me? YOUR boy? Back off, missy!
boogle: OK, OK, you're not a groupie! Sheesh…Thanks for review. But… :P I warned you! I warned you all!

5

Mike stood outside the gates of the factory, his dad to his left, some weird woman who looked possessed to his right. He shuffled across to get away from the possessed lady, but he only managed to form a small mound of snow by his foot. He glanced down the line and saw, standing next to her, a kid who could easily have been her clone (they were even wearing matching tracksuits). Possessed Junior, Mike dubbed her. Next to her was a pleasantly plump woman who looked like a reject from a china doll factory, and next to her a not-so-pleasantly plump boy who was clutching a Wonka Candy Bar in his podgy fingers. Pfft, favouritism, Mike scoffed to himself, before noticing the chocolate smeared around his mouth. Oh, Mike thought, so he's just greedy. Next was a frail old man who looked like he could drop down dead any second, and a little boy who didn't look a heck of a lot better. Mike racked his brains to conjure up a name, but nothing came. Could he be Augustus? No, that name seemed more suited to The Blob. He must be the fifth Golden Ticket winner. Next up was a small girl who looked almost as satanic as Mrs Possessed. She was wearing a skirt in the middle of winter. Nuts, Mike thought to himself, absolutely nuts.
She suddenly turned to the man next to her – Posh English Dude – and said firmly, "Daddy, I want to go in."
"It's nine fifty-nine, sweetheart," he replied.
"Make time go faster," Satanic Kid demanded. Mike made a mental note not to get on the wrong side of her.
"Do you think Willy Wonka will recognise you?" asked the fifth Golden Ticket winner. For time's sake, Mike nicknamed him 'Scruffy'.
"Hard to say," the old guy replied, "It's been years."
Mike squinted in confusion for a second before a loud crack made him jump – The Blob had just taken a huge bite out of his chocolate bar. Mike tried hard not to throw up as his crunches echoed around.
"Eyes on the prize, Violet," Mrs Possessed said to her clone, "Eyes on the prize."
Mike focused all his concentration and energy on staring straight ahead of him; he could hear the reporters around them scribbling down every last thing they were saying, and he didn't want to say anything stupid.
With a metallic clank the iron gates swung open. Mike could smell the chocolate worse than ever. He wanted more than anything to turn tail and run, but it simply wasn't an option.
After what seemed like an eternity, a voice came over the speakers, "Please enter."
Now it definitely wasn't an option. He followed suit as all the other kids rushed in.
"Close the gates."
A cursory glance back told Mike that there was no going back now. He could see dozens of cameras. The whole world was watching this. Even back home, the families on his street would be pointing and squeaking as their neighbour entered the factory. And Claire…

Feeling a sudden jolt of nerves, Mike straightened up and tried to look more confident, and – if possible – more happy to be there. He looked around at his environment and couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the huge factory that was now surrounding him; he was so used to being in a tight, enclosed space, his nose pressed up to a screen of some sort.
Mike's determination to remain controlled was forgotten the second the doors opened to reveal…
"Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier! Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, everybody give a cheer. He's modest, clever, and so smart, he barely can restrain it. There's so much generosity, there is no way to contain it, to contain it, to contain, to contain, to contaaaiiin! Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's the one that you're about to meet. Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, he's a genius who just can't be beat! The magician and the chocolate whiz, he's the best darn guy who ever lived, Willy Wonka, here he is!"
He couldn't help it; he furled his upper lip. It was in his nature. Scathing was one of his most honed and perfected skills. And it came in handy when the dolls caught on fire. Gradually the song and dolls ground to a staggering and unglamorous halt. Its end was punctuated by a bout of clapping and breathy giggling from the very right of the line. There was a man with a crazy hat and even crazier glasses on at the other end of the line.
"Wasn't that just magnificent? I was worried it was getting a little dodgy in the middle part, but then that finale…" he was speaking in a hyper, childish tone that made Mike cringe, "…wow!"
Mike cringed harder. He knew who this was, even if all the others (including his dad) didn't seem to have a clue.
"Who are you?" Possessed Jr. asked, and for the first time, Mike noticed in her the same sense of sarcastic indifference that he had. Pity she's a gum-chewer, he thought to himself, she's not all that bad. He kicked himself for having such thoughts, and then blamed it entirely on Daniel and Claire.
Mike opened his mouth to enlighten the others on the identity of the mystery guy, but Fraily McFrailson answered before he could: "He's Willy Wonka!"

Duh…

A/N: This chapter was originally going to tell the story up until Augustus' demise, but the introductions took longer than I thought they would, so I've split the chapter up. Not that you care. Just thought I'd mention it…