Scarlett very carefully did as they were signaled. Creaking open one of the gates very slowly, she stepped in, followed by Sam and Violet. Sam made sure to close the little gap once they were in the courtyard. The trio walked as quickly as they could up the red carpet, dragging their suitcases behind them. Finally, they made it to Mr. Wonka, who helped them into the building.
"Don't worry about locking the gates again; I will make sure to do that late tonight," Mr. Wonka told them as he hauled their suitcases.
They found themselves in a grey foyer, which, at first glance, appeared not to be out of the ordinary. That was, until Mr. Wonka directed them to a set of coat hooks on one wall.
"If you could just hang up your outer vestments on this wall, please; I doubt you'll need them while you're inside. I keep it plenty warm in here."
The Beauregardes took good, curious looks at the wall in question. It had at least ten golden hands sticking out of it, slightly open with the palms facing downwards.
Still staring at the odd hooks, Sam questioned, "So, are these coat hooks or something?"
"More or less," Mr. Wonka answered, giving an impish grin even though his guests weren't facing him to see it. "Go ahead, try them out."
Violet removed her navy blue trench coat, red hat, and red gloves, hanging them in one pile over the thumb on one of the hands. Suddenly, to her and her parents' shock, the hook closed itself to resemble a hand actually gripping the garments. She jumped back in shock and shrieked.
"Now, now, don't worry; they're not dangerous!" Mr. Wonka assured in a deadpan tone. Sam and Scarlett turned to him, the former raising a suspicious eyebrow.
"Say, what kind of silly place are you running here, Wonka? Is this the worst it gets?"
"Oh, if you have any problems, dial information, thank you for calling!" Mr. Wonka dodged momentarily. Then, he smiled a bit. "Just kidding. Yes, this is indeed the biggest surprise."
Now knowing what to expect, Sam removed his light jacket and bowler hat, bracing himself to expect the hook to close on them. Scarlett did the same for her pea coat and white scarf. The family couldn't help but notice all of the hooks…er, hands, left over.
"Excuse me," Scarlett started, grabbing Mr. Wonka's attention again, "do you normally have guests and such over? You were known to stay in hiding, but I can see that you have all of these…things…here. Are they relics from the early years, or…? Sorry to prod."
"Oh, no, ma'am. I don't mind you asking at all. Actually, believe it or not, I had them installed recently, but you must make absolutely sure to keep this between us."
Scarlett gave him an agreeing nod.
Mr. Wonka lowered his voice, even though nobody was around to eavesdrop. "I actually was making plans a few weeks ago to announce a grand reopening of this place, for five children and one guardian each only. That's why I made sure to have ten of those things minimum." He pointed back to the hooks. "It would have been on October first."
"October first? Isn't that the day that that second Disneyland—or whatever the company is calling the park—is supposed to open over in Florida?" Sam interrupted suddenly.
"Oh, is it?" Mr. Wonka replied in a dry tone that was hard to discern as being surprised or not, although he was smiling a bit. "Well, it looks like we mutually might have caused worldwide excitement on both sides of the pond, then!"
"Anyway, I'm sorry for the interruption. Go on." Sam urged.
"Well, I put those plans on hold temporarily when I got your first letter in the mail, as Violet is, for all intents and purposes, a child herself. It would be kind of awkward, you know, to hold a tour while having to handle a task like this." In truth, Mr. Wonka was getting ready to retire in the next decade or so and was aiming to observe a group of children whom he invited to the factory, in order to see who, if any of them, would be fit to be his heir, but like heck he was going to tell the Beauregardes that.
"Interesting. Well, I hope nothing much was spoiled," Scarlett responded.
"No, no, just held off." he reassured. "All that I'll say about it is that five children anywhere around the world were going to be selected—I won't say how—for the tour, and given that there are over three billion people out there, the odds would have been highly against you. You likely just got lucky being an extra little group to get in here!"
"Well, you never know!" Sam replied in an almost motormouth fashion. "I ran for mayor of Miles City a few years ago and just barely lost—I was the runner-up—but I'm still active in politics anyway. You know, THOSE odds are highly against a person, too."
Oh, great, Mr. Wonka thought to himself, a politician! I know just what THEY'RE usually like! Well, I hope that he hasn't influenced Violet too much with that; she might be the one I'm seeking.
"Actually, there is a difference," Mr. Wonka said finally, "in that elections have far fewer participants. Anybody who is familiar with the laws of probability can tell you that."
He then noticed that Violet still had her little red handbag with her. Looking at it and pointing to her hook, he asked, "Violet, are you sure you don't want to hang that with your other stuff?"
"Oh, this?" she asked, patting the handbag. "Naw, I have a few things in here that I would like to unload in my new room. You know, lotion, a hairbrush, a compact, extra gum…"
"Extra gum? Why am I not surprised?" Violet didn't need a gesture to know that he was referring to the fact that she was chewing a piece.
"Oh, yeah!" Violet pointed to her mouth as her jaws continued to move. "I literally chew this stuff all day unless I'm eating or in bed. Usually, I stick it behind my right ear or on a bedpost, respectively, during these moments, but otherwise, yeah, my jaws are always working on a piece."
She paused to pull the well-worn wad out of her mouth as a visual aid. "I started just a few years ago. In fact, this little stick right here has been chewed on for almost a month. I'm trying to beat a world record for how long I've chewed it. I feel like I ought to thank you indirectly; after all, you've managed to come up with gum that never loses its flavor, so this makes it easier for me to keep the same piece without even having to start a new one!"
Violet popped the slimy thing back into her mouth and resumed chewing. "Still, I have extra sticks on hand all the time for the other brands. Juicy Fruit loses its flavor after a while, but man, is it hard to beat!"
Mr. Wonka looked at Violet in horror, although to everyone else in the room, it looked more like awe. Oh, no, he thought, she's a motormouth, a bragger, and a compulsive gum-chewer—YUCK!—all in one! Her folks didn't tell me about this! No, she's definitely not the kid. I'll get that Golden Ticket contest out of the way in a few years if it's the last thing I'll do.
He glanced at her parents and then back to her. Unable to think of anything else to say, he thought it best to move on. "Okay, if you think you'll need that handbag, then you may keep it with you. Now, without further ado, I'd best be showing you to the living quarters. Don't worry, Mr. and Mrs. Beauregarde; you'll get your coats and stuff when you leave here. Violet, if you don't mind, for neatness's sake, whenever you come in from school or anyplace else, I would like you to hang your outer gear on these hooks before you go into the conjoined house. You won't need them; it's plenty warm everywhere in this building. After all, my workers prefer warm temperatures."
"Workers?" Sam asked.
"You'll see."
"Oh, and before I forget, here's my business card!" Sam said rapidly. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small card, and handed it to Mr. Wonka. "If you ever need a contract or deal on a used automobile, the name and address are right on the card. With Sam B., it's a guarantee!"
"Nice," said Mr. Wonka flatly, taking the business card. He stuffed it into a trouser pocket after only two seconds' uninterested glance. "The learned fool writes his nonsense in better language than the unlearned, but it is still nonsense."
Before Sam could attempt to object to this reply, Mr. Wonka led them along a narrow corridor, walking in the opposite direction from where they had headed to use the coat hooks. Finally, the group reached a pair of translucent doors, behind which was a device that could best be described as a gold prism with gigantic windows. Mr. Wonka pressed a button on the wall, signaling the doors to open and to reveal the strange contraption.
"Behold, the Wonkavator!" he announced.
"Wonkavator?" Violet asked in confusion. "Is that a play on words or something?"
"Sort of," Mr. Wonka answered. "It's a portmanteau of 'Wonka' and 'elevator', but I absolutely refuse to call this thing an elevator."
"It looks like one to me," Scarlett remarked.
"It's not," Mr. Wonka corrected. By this point, they had crowded inside. "An elevator can go only up and down, but the Wonkavator can go sideways, and slantways, and longways, and backways, and squareways, and any other ways you can think of! It can visit absolutely any room anywhere in the factory, no matter where it is! I originally was going to call this thing a portmanteau of 'Wonka' and 'lift'—this is London, after all—but I didn't think that it would have flowed off the tongue so nicely."
Mr. Wonka saw Sam trying to crowd a suitcase into the Wonkavator. "Hey, Wonka, do you think we could try to make a little room here? We'll need to unload Violet's stuff!"
"Oh, don't worry about that, sir! I can have one of my workers head over here and transport the suitcases after we're out of this thing. There will be plenty of space."
Sam heeded Mr. Wonka's words and put the suitcase back with the other two.
Mr. Wonka turned to a button panel about waist-high on the side of the Wonkavator, pressing a button marked Secondary housing entrance.
"Brace yourself," he warned. "It doesn't move like an elevator."
Sure enough, true to his warning, the Wonkavator leapt sideways. The Beauregardes had to grab onto little rails running along the inner perimeter to avoid getting knocked off of their feet. The motion didn't last but a few seconds, and then the contraption shot backwards in a straight line.
"Is this thing going to start shooting down?" Violet called. "If so, then I surely don't want to have to go through that every day! Hard rolling is enough!"
"In a moment," Mr. Wonka called out in answer. Fortunately for everybody, though, when the drop occurred, it was for only about a meter and a half, and no motion sickness was felt by anybody anyway. A few more direction changes occurred after this, none of which were standard for an elevator. Within a minute of the ride, thankfully with nobody feeling dreadfully ill, the Wonkavator stopped.
The doors opened to reveal a large, carpeted room with a coffered ceiling, similar to the living rooms found near the entrances in most houses. The whole room was easily large enough for a car to fit in it. The family stepped inside and looked around; everything from a sofa to a coffee table (with rounded edges, notably) to a rocking chair to a large, mounted radio was arranged in place.
Mr. Wonka stepped inside as well. To his immediate right—just at the Wonkavator's wall covering, and completely unnoticed until Mr. Wonka addressed him—was a short, orange man with green hair and large, white eyebrows, wearing baggy, Lederhosen-type overalls.
Mr. Wonka looked down to him. "You will find the young lady's luggage in three suitcases in the main foyer. I want you please to go down there, get them in the Wonkavator, and bring them in here." Wordlessly, the little man nodded, stepped into the Wonkavator, pressed a different button on the control panel, and disappeared with the closing of the doors in front of the gold and glass device.
When Mr. Wonka turned back to his guests, he could see that they all had stunned looks on their faces. "Oh, in retrospect, I'm sorry for not explaining earlier before you saw them. That guy works for me. He and thousands of others like him have been helping me run the factory this whole time."
Violet crossed her arms. "Well, he can't have been a real person!"
"Why, of course he's a real person! So are everybody else like him!"
"Now, Wonka, I've had enough of your little tricks!" Sam scolded. "Nobody in the world has an orange face and white eyebrows. Did you create him yourself?"
"No, I did not, and this is not 'one of my little tricks'!" Mr. Wonka defended himself, mocking Sam's just-used tone of voice at the indicated words. "He is a member of a little-known human species known as the Oompa-Loompas, native to an island called Loompaland."
"OOMPA-LOOMPAS?!" Violet and her parents cried together in surprise.
"Indeed. I found them by accident when I was going on an excursion shortly after my factory closed that first time. I was looking for ways to make a comeback, you see, and I figured that traveling to an exotic location would increase my odds of discovering brand-new, exotic flavors for new candy inventions. Yes, I knew that places like Belgium and Switzerland, what with all of the chocolate those countries produce, have wondrous types of candy already, but I wanted to find something new.
"Unfortunately, to my horrifying surprise, Loompaland turned out to be the most desolate location I ever had the misfortune to discover. Food itself was scarce. I caught the attention of a whangdoodle at some point, and it started chasing me down like there was no tomorrow! I mean, it missed capturing and eating me by THIS much!" Mr. Wonka held up one hand and positioned the thumb and index fingers about four centimeters away.
"Whangdoodle? What sort of nonsense is that?!" Sam demanded.
"I'm sorry, but all questions must be submitted in writing," Mr. Wonka dodged. "It's just an apex predator native to the area. They're so dangerous that they make being chased by a Bengal tiger look like a fun game of tag with one's dog!
"Anyway, I soon stumbled upon the Oompa-Loompas' village. They took me in for shelter after they saw what that whangdoodle almost did to me, but as it turned out, they were nearly starving to death. They informed me that, while they would have loved to greet me with a nice meal of cocoa beans—they LOVE the food; they literally worship it—they were extremely scarce, and thus, a bowl of mashed caterpillars would have to do. When I told them that I run a chocolate factory—the main ingredient of which is cocoa beans, if you don't know—in a faraway land and was trying to look for employment, they immediately jumped for joy and agreed to abandon that terrible place. They were excited not only about the proposition of eating as many cocoa beans as they wished, but they also saw this as an escape once and for all from the many predators that used to stalk them."
"Is that what they actually look like?" Scarlett prodded.
"Yes," Mr. Wonka assured. "The overalls are just for factory-environment protection, and not their native clothing, but Oompa-Loompas really do have orange skin and green hair."
At that moment, the Wonkavator came back. The doors in the wall opened, as did the door in the Wonkavator itself, and the same Oompa-Loompa from before hauled in the suitcases in turn, setting each one immediately by the entrance.
"Thank you, Rungdin!" Mr. Wonka told him. Looking to Violet, he introduced, "Violet, this is Rungdin. I have arranged for him to be your Wonkavator monitor during your stay."
"Wonkavator monitor?" Violet asked in confusion.
"Yes. Violet, in case you haven't guessed already, the vast majority of my factory is going to be off-limits. I'm sorry, but this is the way it will have to be. I have many secret works in progress being handled in most of the rooms, so I can't have anybody except each room's designated Oompa-Loompas entering and having a look around. There are a few rooms, although scarce, that actually act more like entertainment, and I don't see the harm in letting you in there, but critical areas like the Inventing Room or any of the spaced-apart testing facilities? No. Whenever you use the Wonkavator, Rungdin will be in it with you to make sure that you go into either this house or an approved factory room only."
Violet groaned, rolling her eyes. Mr. Wonka chose to ignore it.
"Now, if all of you will follow me, I ought to see you to the rest of this little place." He dragged two of the suitcases, while Scarlett helped with the third.
They crossed the living room (which Violet noted had no TV; when she asked Mr. Wonka about it, he said just that he seldom watched those things but wouldn't mind if Violet scrounged up enough money to buy one of the really cheap ones) and came upon a kitchen with very wide doorways. Other than that and the fact that the table and counters had rounded edges, though, it looked just like an ordinary kitchen. A few Oompa-Loompas were staffing the cupboards, pantry, and fridge, and the Beauregardes could see that regular food was being supplied.
"Just for now, Violet, you will be provided with some portions of what I happen to have available. Of course, if you feel like going out and buying some of your own food, by all means, feel free to do so. I will have an Oompa-Loompa on hand to cook dinner if you ever feel like eating anything complex that you don't know how to make."
Sam took notice of the rounded designs of the table's and countertops' corners. "Say, why the rounding on the corners there, Wonka?"
"I'm glad you asked!" Mr. Wonka clarified. "I considered the possibility of Violet morphing while in the kitchen, so just in case, I didn't want there to be any corners that might pose as a possible hazard. I'm sure you get my meaning there."
"But, Mr. Wonka, I always make sure that I'm not in the kitchen at night! Otherwise, I can go hardly anywhere, much less into my room or bed!"
He turned to Violet and smiled. "Don't worry; I made renovations to this place specifically to make it so that you will have much more freedom than you used to have. With these wide doorways, you will be able to waddle and roll with no problems whatsoever, giving you more freedom to stay up. You're going to be wild about how I've designed your bed!"
Violet felt the need to make a correction. "Actually, I don't roll. I can tip to upright and leaning positions, but most of the time, Mom and Dad have had to roll me because my hands can't reach the floor quite like they used to do."
"Okay; well, you at least will be able to waddle, then. Now, on to the bedroom!"
The family followed Mr. Wonka through a wide, carpeted hallway to an odd-looking door. Upon seeing the door, the trio just stared. The doorknob was sticking out about a good twelve centimeters and looked like a T-bar. Additionally, it was higher than a normal doorknob, about at the height of Violet's fingertips if she stretched out her arms the long way.
"This shape is for those nights when you happen to be somewhere else at sunset. All you will have to do is grip the bar, with your fingertips, and nudge it down just a little bit." Mr. Wonka demonstrated this as he explained, opening the door in the process. "Then you will be able to waddle right on in. The door is weighted to close slowly on its own. If you need it propped open during the day, I have provided a door stopper, which you will find on the floor, to your left, as you come in."
Violet was in awe as they stepped into the room. It was about twice as big in floor area as her room back home, never mind the wider wall space. She began to wonder whether all of her belongings were going to be inadequate in this room, but then she remembered that the other place had a few cramped spots towards the back. The empty space here, she figured, was probably arranged with extra waddling room in mind. As was expected, the provided bookshelf, dresser, vanity, and desk had rounded corners, just like the kitchen structures. Nothing, however, surprised her more than the bed.
Mr. Wonka had managed to make up a very wide bed that had normal proportions but was tilted forwards at an angle. This bed, in fact, looked only partially made; while the mattress sheet was on, the top sheet and blanket were hung on low-lying hooks immediately next to it. There were the all-too-familiar toddler rails present on its sides, too. Once Violet caught sight of it, she just stared in awe and couldn't pull her eyes away from it, no matter how hard she tried.
"Let me tell you how this works," Mr. Wonka said, leading the trio over to the bed. "Once Violet heads over to the bed, she is to grab whatever coverings provided here that she thinks that she might need, turn around in front of it, and tip backwards. As she does so, the feeling of her body hitting the mattress will signal the bed to tip backwards very slowly until it is at the level of a normal bed. This mattress has much more give than an ordinary one, too."
"How are those pillows staying in place?" Scarlett asked. "I'm noticing that they're not sliding downward, and the bed's at an angle!"
"I utilized a little thing that I like to call 'stickjaw'. It's actually a candy of mine in progress whose substance I used on the undersides of the pillowcases. It won't affect the softness of the pillows, though. I've tested them out myself."
Scarlett nodded wordlessly, prompting Mr. Wonka to continue. "If Violet should ever need to get out of bed before dawn, all she will have to do is push this button that I've installed into the left rail, the action of which will cause the bed to tilt forwards again very slowly, when she then will be able to waddle out." He indicated where the thing was, and it was indeed reachable to Violet's blueberry form. "Of course, getting out of bed after dawn will be accomplished the same way it always has for anyone in human history, but in either case, the emptiness of the bed will signal it to turn to that slightly inclined angle again, awaiting its next use."
Mr. Wonka then pointed out a long cord coming from a semi-distant lamp. The cord in question went down from the lamp and then came upwards in a curve, because a hook from the ceiling was holding it firmly in place. The cord ended in a dangling line immediately next to Violet's new bed. "This is so that she will be able to turn on a lamp if she needs light in the room during the night for whatever reason. If my estimates are correct, she will be able to reach the end of the cord without a problem."
The Beauregardes were awestruck. "Say, how do you know her exact proportions?" Sam asked. "We've given you only a brief overview."
"I had to guess," Mr. Wonka admitted. "Believe it or not, I think I actually might have seen this scenario before. I have a candy that's not quite right yet—all I'll say about it is that it was meant to taste like food—and every time an Oompa-Loompa volunteered to test it out, they turned blue and filled up with juice in exactly the way you described. I had to put each of them into a machine in my Juicing Room—which, by the way, Violet, also will be off-limits—in order to reverse the problem. It's happened about twenty times, so I have the appearances of them burned into my memory by now. In fact, it surprises me just how many parallels there seem to be with this situation, namely the fact that both my problem and yours involve chewing gum!"
He moved on to a small pile of equipment, consisting of a funnel, a tube, and a small bowl, on the other side of the bed. "Now, as I'm sure you know, Violet, sometimes we have to attend to our own matters as they arise. For convenience, I have right here—"
"Don't explain that!" Violet interrupted, totally embarrassed. "I know exactly how to operate those; I've used that same procedure for years."
"O-kay, then!" Mr. Wonka replied, taken off-guard. "Well, in that case, let's move on, shall we?"
The other rooms in the lodging were hardly notable, save for the facts that the overall areas and doorways were wider, and all of the doors had the same odd design as the bedroom's had. Taking only the room quantity into account, though, the place wasn't much bigger than her house.
Finally, everybody had a lunch break in the kitchen, after which Violet spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking her things into her new room. It took a few hours, but she finally got everything arranged just how she wanted it. She and her parents rejoined Mr. Wonka in the kitchen for dinner, and then she did her usual evening routine. Mr. Wonka had an odd request, however, so Violet couldn't head to bed just yet. Truth be told, her internal clock was still on Montana time, so the jet lag made her much more tired during the day than she was now. She had fought it up to this point but still didn't feel tired right now quite yet, simply because she already had pulled an all-nighter without actually doing so.
...
Violet, otherwise completely ready for bed, stood in the wide hallway where her room (among a few other rooms) was connected. Sam, Scarlett, and Mr. Wonka stood at a safe distance and watched her. Any second now, dusk would commence. Mr. Wonka wanted to do a little test to confirm whether the accommodations he had made would indeed work out, hence this observation.
After a few minutes of waiting, Violet's pigment finally darkened to cobalt blue. Then, as usual, a very faint sound of gurgling juice emanated, and her stomach and chest began to plump up, followed shortly thereafter by her arms and legs. Within moments, her torso got so big that her arms were stuck pointing outwards by her sides, and she had to straddle. Eventually, her appendages were engulfed by the rest of her body, leaving her neck, hands, and feet sticking out, at which point the swelling finished. There stood Violet, a big, blue oval with long, brown hair, covered by a reshaped pair of lounge pants and a reshaped sleeping T-shirt.
Mr. Wonka turned to Sam and Scarlett. "It's just as I suspected. Yes, this is indeed exactly the same transformation that I saw that candy's defect produce."
Unlike the hallway at home, the factory's house's hallway had plenty of space left, despite Violet's massive size. At Mr. Wonka's gesture, she pivoted herself to turn around and waddled towards the door. She gripped its handle as was previously demonstrated and pushed down. The door opened inwards, and she waddled in, her parents and temporary guardian in tow.
After flicking down the light switch (which was the simple "on-off" type) for the main part of the room, Violet made her way over to the bed, gripped the cover and a blanket, pivoted herself back around, and tipped backwards. As Mr. Wonka had described, the bed tilted back until it was at the same angle as a normal bed, and the mattress did not so much as sag.
Sam and Scarlett tensed up. They knew that they would have to part with her right then and there. They each walked up to her and, in turn, bent down and tried to wrap their arms as best they could around the reclining, spherical mass. The familiar blueberry scent was prominent.
"Goodbye!" Scarlett said.
When Sam took his turn, he made the same response. He, however, took note that Violet still had her gum in her mouth, and, struggling to see through his squinted eyelids to keep a tough demeanor, reached in and plucked out the gum, setting it in a little wrapper nearby. "There's no need to risk choking on this."
Mr. Wonka took advantage of the fact that no one was looking at him and rolled his eyes. He's stashing it so she can continue that same piece tomorrow rather than start a new one, if any at all. Of course, he thought to himself.
Scarlett offered to turn off the lamp, even though Violet could reach its hung-in-place cord herself. Once that was over with, the parents drew out their last moment with their daughter for as long as possible. When they finally left (with a flood of other "goodbye"s and "we'll miss you"s in the mix), Mr. Wonka opened the odd door for them.
"Oh, I hope she'll have the spell broken here!" Scarlett said nervously. "I don't know what we'll do if the person is in an even more distant place like Kazakhstan!"
"Actually, it doesn't work that way," Mr. Wonka assured. "I know that the word 'soulmate' was almost certainly used, but sociology has shown otherwise. It's now basically just a fancy term for someone who likes another person back. As long as it's mutual, I think you'll have your answer. I don't even think that being a significant other is a requirement, either."
They were not out of the room yet, so Violet overheard this. The revelation that she would not be confined to a specific person brightened her mood. Sam and Scarlett shared relieved grins as well.
"Goodnight!" Violet called one last time before they left. Her parents responded in disconsolate waves, Sam calling out a request to write them frequently.
The door closed. This was it. At least Mr. Wonka did a phenomenal job with making the bed really comfortable. She used her stubby hands to adjust her coverings, but, due to not being adjusted to London's time zone just yet, it took a few hours for her to get sleepy. At about three o'clock, however, she finally did and dozed off.
A/N: "The learned fool writes his nonsense in better language than the unlearned, but it is still nonsense." was originally said by Benjamin Franklin.
