A/N: Response time!
Gs33022, thank you so much! What with the Dirt Desert having a lot of detail to begin with, I was worried about accidentally not doing justice to some parts. Coming up with the unique interactions, as you put them, was plenty fun as well.
Except for the Wonkamobile belonging to canon, I need no citations for this chapter's room; I completely made it up. By all means, though, I will allow pre-asked borrowing if anybody so chooses. Tit-for-tat, as the saying goes.
After Mr. Wonka got the Wonkamobile started, it began moving very slowly, even more so than walking pace, making only soft sputtering noises. Mr. Wonka started to pump an arm up and down to get more soda suds through the engine. At first, both of his guests thought that there must be something wrong with the Wonkamobile…until suds began to emerge from the large tank.
The vehicle picked up speed only barely, still not topping the speed of normal walking. Suddenly, the soda began to spew out of several different places. The long tube coming out of the side of the center tank was the first spot to erupt. The tide nailed Mr. Wonka, but he just continued his driving, without so much as a flinch. In fact, he was taking no notice at all, just chanting a German-language, opera-style tune as if his head were in the clouds.
Charlie turned around to look at the source of the noise. Upon seeing the tank leaking, he thought immediately of a quip that Grandpa Joe likely would have made had he been here. He always was comparing the politicians who appeared on the news to gassy objects such as sodas, so Charlie imagined him in the seat beside him, quipping that the Wonkamobile had more gas in it than a politician. While Charlie had no way to know, it was a good thing that neither he nor Violet had guardians here for Grandpa Joe to say that, or else Violet's father would have gotten dreadfully angry.
The open pipe right in front of Charlie spewed a bunch of foam soda at him while he wasn't looking. Upon feeling it, he turned his head back, only to be faced by another squirt. The soda felt refreshingly cool, as if his whole body had just been feeling the bliss that one's mouth normally would.
"Hey, Mr. Wonka, that tickles!" he giggled. Mr. Wonka just kept on singing the opera chant.
At that very moment, a well-hidden spigot that was bent down towards Violet's seat dumped an insane amount of white soda onto her. She closed her eyes reflexively and shrieked at the surprise. Nearly all parts of her had gotten soaked, and so had the unoccupied seat next to her.
"Mr. Wonka, if you think that the sand from earlier was a disgraceful mess, then answer to this!" she hollered out. Mr. Wonka ignored her also, still pumping away at the engine while singing.
"You are such a hypocrite, I—" She was cut off by another soda dump. To her horror, due to her being in the middle of talking, some of the suds from this one got into her mouth. Quickly, she wiped the fingertips of a soaked hand onto one of the few dry spots and gave her gum a safety check. It was drenched. She could taste the soda that had just soaked it, too.
"MY GUM! MY PRECIOUS GUM! I WAS GOING TO DESTROY CORNELIA'S RECORD, WITH THIS PIECE!" she hollered at Mr. Wonka. Wisely, she ducked to make sure that the next squirt wouldn't get near her mouth. "It's ruined! This is the last straw!"
Charlie, meanwhile, was playing with the soda that kept coming at him. He was even holding his hands in front of the tube so that he could catch the soda as it burst out.
"Mr. Wonka, do you have any flavored soda for the tank?" he asked cheerfully as he stacked up three little foam balls to make a miniature snowman in the seat beside him quickly, before the next squirt of suds could knock it over. "Utilizing some vibrant colors could add to this experience!"
Mr. Wonka once again took no notice of the rider addressing him and still continued to sing his German opera chant, without missing a beat. The Wonkamobile's foam was affecting him, too, but he never flinched at it. Curiously, he was still pumping up the engine, without any trouble, even though some of the soda suds had covered his eyes completely.
The Wonkamobile was now soaked so much that the soda was looking much more like a large snowfall, with more of it still coming. Overall, the entire contraption had moved no more than about the length of a fenced-in backyard and a half. Anyone could have run faster than that.
Violet had been resigned to clutching both hands tightly over her mouth while keeping her mouth itself shut, focusing completely on the horrifying prospect of preventing getting more suds in contact with her gum. The entirety of the Wonkamobile had so much soda sprayed throughout that it was even getting into her shoes (as well as Mr. Wonka's and Charlie's), and she thought back once again to the crumb-dumping incident. This was worse, and she was going to drain them somewhere, to heck if it was going to be on his floor again. He made this mess; he should clean it up. Ditto for everything else that had gotten soaked, even parts of her anatomy.
Charlie, meanwhile, had no such mindset. He was still chuckling and tossing about the foam, having as good a time as any. At points, he even tasted it.
Finally, the contraption approached a wide, salmon-colored thing that resembled a doorway. A spinning, wheel-like object was set atop it. As the Wonkamobile went through, a squeezing noise was heard, and the entire vehicle came out into the other end, completely spotless. All of the chaotic soda from just seconds ago was gone. Finally, Mr. Wonka stopped the ride.
Both of the children noticed. They turned around to look back at the doorway, but it looked like just that—a doorway set in a hall. The suds must have drained somewhere, but how exactly was a puzzle to everyone except Mr. Wonka. The door to the Dirt Desert was visible in the short distance.
Seeing that all traces of the soda (including the lingering taste) were gone, as if they never had been sprayed in the first place, Violet very nervously stuck a finger into her mouth to check on her gum. It was back to its previous state, unsoaked except for her saliva. She sighed in relief.
"Hey, Mr. Wonka, what was that we just went through?" Charlie asked.
"Hsaw Aknow," Mr. Wonka replied, disembarking the driver's seat.
"Is that the Oompa-Loompa dialect again?" Violet asked, still assuming that the two foreign languages she had heard were theirs.
"No, that's 'Wonka Wash' spelled backwards."
"Wash? Like, a bath?" asked Charlie.
Mr. Wonka nodded. "It gets you squeaky clean in no time."
Charlie thought about what a wonderful bath it had been. True, it was far from ideal, especially with having been fully clothed, but it surely beat having to go into his bedroom several times a week to bathe in a large but barely-fitting washtub that had been pumped by hand outdoors.
"If that's as far as it goes, then couldn't we have walked?" asked Violet.
Mr. Wonka kept a straight face. "If the Good Lord had intended us to walk, He wouldn't have invented roller skates. Now, come along. We've arrived." He beckoned them down.
Charlie and Violet followed suit from Mr. Wonka and got off of the Wonkamobile. They followed him to a giant, framed painting that had a gold frame, Corinthian in design. The painting itself was a pastel portrait of the outside of the factory, seen from the front. The whole frame was big enough for all three of them to walk in side-by-side with headroom, especially since it had been placed so low to the ground, lower than the upside-down doorways in Mr. Wonka's living space.
"Where have we arrived?" asked Violet.
"Well, can't you see? The next room is straight ahead!"
"That's preposterous. You can't walk into a painting."
Mr. Wonka flipped open a keypad lock beside the frame and punched in a code. Slowly, the painting lifted itself straight up, within the frame, revealing the room once out of the way.
"That's because it isn't one," Mr. Wonka answered post-demonstration.
Suddenly, something dawned on Mr. Wonka. Everything that he had shown Charlie today had revealed a little of his character subtly. The Chocolate Room had shown Mr. Wonka Charlie's appreciation for the former's candy. While in the Loompaland Zoo, Charlie had expressed his feeling sorry for the Oompa-Loompas having to have lived amongst those horrible predators, thus revealing his empathy. The pyramid incident in the Dirt Desert had shown how brave Charlie could be when necessary, and the Wonka Wash had shown Mr. Wonka that Charlie could have odd fun just for the sake of it. Mr. Wonka may have ignored everything that had gone on during the ride, but he still could hear Charlie's and Violet's reactions throughout. This room that Mr. Wonka was about to show, he realized, had an area that could test Charlie's creativity, a trait much needed for this type of career. Of course, the factory wouldn't be prized today; Mr. Wonka had yet to break the news publicly about seeking an heir, and there was still the issue of Violet taking shelter. Besides, the character trait that Mr. Wonka needed to screen over all others, honesty, was much too complex to test with simple reactions. No incontrovertible demonstration of honesty by someone gifted to run the entire factory meant to Mr. Wonka that he would be risking a Slugworth breach repeat. (This was not to suggest at all that Mr. Wonka didn't trust Charlie; they found each other to be quite delightful, and Charlie still showed real potential. Think of it as insurance of sorts, if you may.) Originally, he had planned for Mr. Wilkinson to usurp the role of Slugworth and to ask each Golden Ticket finder for a sample of Mr. Wonka's Everlasting Gobstopper in exchange for a large supply of their greatest desire. Right now, that wouldn't work—after all, how was Slugworth actually to know where Charlie had been for part of the day—but Mr. Wonka was considering having his assistant go incognito somehow else for Charlie specifically.
Mr. Wonka stepped over the lowest rim of the picture frame, and his guests followed him. The picture always lowered itself back automatically after about fifteen seconds, so there was no need to punch in the same code on this side.
"Welcome to the Wax Candy Museum!" he announced.
All of the room—the floor, the ceiling, and every wall—was made of royal purple felt, perfectly matching the hue of Mr. Wonka's coat. In fact, if he stood still directly near a wall, his arms would appear to vanish past his wrists, as would his shoulders. There were plexiglass display containers of varying sizes lined up, a bright gold, sagging chains-and-poles fence (the kind found along snaking queues) running in front of them to indicate not to pass it. The chains linking the vertical barrier poles had glinting sugar crystals stuck to them. There were next to no Oompa-Loompas here at the moment.
Back to the plexiglass containers, each one contained a sculpture of sorts. They became clearer as the trio approached the walkway of displays. The first one in sight was a two-meter-high recreation of the smokestack on the outside of the factory. The colors were accurate to those used in the design; the body was off-tan, and the W-O-N-K-A letters running down it were bright yellow, as the real ones turned when they were lit up one by one.
"Have you heard of wax museums?" Mr. Wonka asked from behind Charlie and Violet.
Both of them nodded, still looking. Violet had seen the display of human wax figures at the Range Riders Museum in Miles City plenty of times. Charlie's folks never could afford admission to one, but he still knew what they were and what the figures looked like.
"All of these figures are made of wax candy," Mr. Wonka continued.
Violet looked at him. "You mean, like the stuff in wax lips?"
"Mm-hmm," Mr. Wonka confirmed, giving a slight nod with the tip of his tongue out. "This is also the same wax candy found in pretty much any sweet that has a dull shine. Most of their applications are exclusively for chewing."
"Like gum?" Coincidentally, Violet snapped hers after asking this.
"Admittedly, yes. The liquid forms are drinkable, though. Since solid wax candy is prone to melting in the Oompa-Loompas' preferred temperature before too long, however, all of these works have been placed in a state of refrigeration. It's actually slightly chilled inside each of these cases." Mr. Wonka gestured to a fluorocarbon box (in layperson's terms, freon) that was well-hidden between the display case and the pedestal holding it.
The next display case in line had a smaller piece of artwork. It was a model of an orange fist, including the wrist and a little bit of the arm, about the size of two golf balls overall. A small plaque that had been set in front of the model read, "Parjald of the Toplec Eastern clan, age 6 months. Love, Mom, Dad, Saquid, and all of your grandparents!"
Mr. Wonka pointed to the display case. "He was the first Oompa-Loompa ever born in the factory. As a bit of a miniature celebration, it was his older sister's idea to have this model made once he became old enough to keep his hands still. He's almost nine years old now."
"Have Oompa-Loompas made all of these?" asked Charlie.
"Every single one!" answered Mr. Wonka. "Although the Wax Candy Museum is open to all, a few regulars who are amazing sculptors stop by now and again to create a new piece whenever they feel like it. You will see the stations very soon."
The next case was enormous, about three and a half meters long and two meters tall. Inside it was a wax candy model of a large, extraordinary-looking fish. Its dorsal fin resembled that of a stickleback, but that was about the only normal thing about it. The fish had two tails that looked like those of a thresher shark. Slim, glowing tubes extended where the pectoral fins should be. Black spots were on the fish's side fins. The mouth was wide open, revealing four long, sharp teeth and a tongue that had a large, yellow eyeball at the tip. The underside of the animal's body was bright red in color, while the rest of it, from the side fins up, was bluish green.
"Detta är en jätte, man ätande fisk från gammal Loompaland folklore," Mr. Wonka exposited.
Violet looked at him. "What?"
"This is called a buldgruffler. Mythology from centuries ago has it that this creature is about triple the size of a whangdoodle," Mr. Wonka continued. "Inexplicably, it can breathe on land once leaping out of the water. In one old story, a warrior from the northwest coast of Loompaland was tasked with fighting a buldgruffler that was dominating the shoreline. When he finally slaughtered the fish—which was hard to accomplish because the only fatal spot was the hard-to-reach space between the tails, as every other body part healed instantly—the skeletal remains of a long-lost former chief riding his pygmy elephant came spilling out of the wound."
Charlie examined the wax candy figure more closely. He could see that the scales had had extra sugar embedded in them to make them stand out from the fins.
"As I said, though, this was merely from Loompaland's ancient, traditional folklore," said Mr. Wonka. "Unlike the Loompaland animals you saw earlier, a buldgruffler is a completely fictional being."
They moved along to a case containing a much scaled-up replica (about twelve times the actual size) of an unfamiliar candy. It looked like a large, three-dimensional star with a different color on each protrusion. One spike was yellow, another blue, another green, and so forth. It looked just like the unfamiliar candy that was seen as a mock hieroglyph in the pyramid earlier.
"What is that model, Mr. Wonka?" Charlie asked.
"A star, eleven-point sproggb," answered Mr. Wonka. In reality, it was a candy of his that was still in the testing stage, so he wasn't going to answer that.
Charlie looked back at the model. "I don't know what a sproggb is, but that looks to me like it has fewer than eleven points on it."
Mr. Wonka shrugged. "Just the same."
Only a few wax candy displays remained until the group had to turn around to see the cases running along the opposite wall. Mr. Wonka and his small party saw two yellow-and-blue-striped candy canes that were angled up and crossed in an X shape, the head of an Oompa-Loompa, and a huge, classic Wonka Bar in its wrapper because, let's face it, a professional sculptor can't live on the premises of the Wonka factory and not make a scaled-up model of a Wonka Bar at some point.
When Mr. Wonka turned the children around the dead end, they immediately spotted a workstation currently in use. An Oompa-Loompa wearing a large apron and artist's gloves was sitting at a workbench, a few large containers of semi-solid wax candy in various colors set atop it. Another Oompa-Loompa was posing for a statue of himself. He had his right leg angled diagonally while his left leg was straight, creating a fifty-five-degree angle between them. His right foot was bent at the ball, while the left one was flat on the ground. His right hand, also at an acute angle, was placed on his waist, while his left hand was set behind his head, his elbow sticking out at a straight angle. His head was turned slightly upwards to the left. He was keeping a straight face, as Oompa-Loompas usually did.
The Oompa-Loompa who was sculpting the wax candy statue was finished with the legs (with surprising accuracy in the color changes in his model's stockings and pom-pom shoes) and was busy with the lowest part of the trunk. He had completed the area where the thighs of the model's overalls were pointing outwards. It was easy to see the colors in the artist's open cans; the brown and white waxes were being used currently, and two cans filled with orange and green were off to the side—for the finished statue's face and hair, no doubt.
He caught sight of Mr. Wonka, Charlie, and Violet out of the corner of his eye. So did the model, but he remained posed so as not to complicate the project.
"Hello, Ingstrid," Mr. Wonka greeted, lifting an open hand. "I'm just showing Violet and another guest around for today. This is Charlie. You've heard of Violet; she's been lodging here."
"Hi!" Charlie lifted a hand as well.
"Ingstrid made most of the displays that are in this corridor," Mr. Wonka explained. "The only ones that he didn't are the baby Oompa-Loompa's hand, the cluster of cocoa beans, the miniature gumball machine, and the miniature, abstract hornswoggler, the latter three of which we still have yet to approach. Those were done by two other regular attendees who also have artistic talent."
"Have you had any luck with Charlie so far?" Ingstrid asked Mr. Wonka.
Mr. Wonka lowered his voice. "I think so. I'll give it a few more long-term examinations."
Charlie and Violet exchanged confused looks once again.
"Well, it was nice meeting both of you!" Ingstrid stated. "One whole month, and I'm finally meeting the lodging guest! How about that!"
"Sorry to disturb you," said Mr. Wonka, in a friendly tone. "Take care!"
"You, too!" replied Ingstrid. He went back to his work. The modeling Oompa-Loompa had overheard everything but stayed in pose, which included not talking.
Another, unoccupied workstation was just a few paces away from this one. Both of the children would have walked right past it had Mr. Wonka not called it to their attention.
He pointed with his cane. "This space is empty. You may try your hand if you want."
Charlie smiled upon seeing it, but then his face fell. "I'd love to play with this, in theory, but I'm just not that good of a three-dimensional artist. All of those things we saw were professional."
Mr. Wonka smiled. "Do you know just how many abstract artists are successful?"
"Well, okay!" Charlie replied, now convinced that this interactive activity could work. He approached the table enthusiastically. Violet shrugged and followed him.
"Do you see those two aprons hanging on the wall, as well as the gloves?" asked Mr. Wonka. "I very highly suggest that you put them on. We don't want to get wax candy stained everywhere. Unlike the Wonka Wash, I can't fix that so easily."
Both Charlie and Violet did as was recommended and then sat down. The protective artist gear was made for adult Oompa-Loompas, of course, but they were just under the children's height, so the aprons and gloves still fit easily, even if they were a little tight.
The cans of wax were kept in an ice chest on the floor in order to keep them in a semi-solid state for molding. Charlie rooted around for one and finally pulled out a can that was marked "Brown". Just was his luck! He associated that color with chocolate, first and foremost. He knew now what to make.
Violet was having a harder time with her decision. She set aside wax candy cans filled with light green, pink, and beige waxes, not having the foggiest idea how she could utilize them.
Suddenly, she did a double take of the pink can. Lots of bubblegum brands were pink. True, she was chewing a white piece, but she had done stretching stunts on both colors. She opened the can of pink wax candy and got to work.
Within half an hour, both of them were finished. Mr. Wonka stepped towards the workstation to see just what his guests had molded. He saw that Charlie had made what looked like a brown rectangle, only with the corners of one side bent back to look somewhat like a tube of toothpaste. A little orange cap (he had utilized part of that can, too) was set atop it, and the brown tube itself had "Wonka" etched into it in all capital letters by means of a toothpick.
"It's chocolate-flavored toothpaste," Charlie explained. "My dad worked to screw the little caps onto tubes of toothpaste at a toothpaste factory in town. My much younger self commonly imagined making toothpaste that had chocolate in it, so I just molded a tube here. Of course, I know now that it was just a silly fantasy, but—"
"Oh, Charlie, it is not a silly fantasy!" Mr. Wonka assured. "I myself make caramels that, once chewed, can clean and fill cavities. Cocoa powder that can clean teeth before those cavities ever form could be made by me easily as a supplement. I'm sure your father would love it if it came out."
Charlie frowned. "Unfortunately, he's dead now."
"Oh. Oh, dear. I didn't know that. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. My mother will be proud if it gets released."
"If there is harmony between the mind, heart, and resolution, then nothing is impossible," Mr. Wonka replied, smiling. He looked to Violet's side of the table. "What do you have?"
She had molded what looked like a large, pink pretzel. "It's a piece of bubblegum stretched into a pretzel shape. I tried doing it in front of the bathroom mirror at home once. Sadly, it didn't work."
"Ah! Permanently stretchy chewing gum that won't rip even if you're biting it! There's an idea!"
Violet's eyes glimmered in excitement upon hearing this. Mr. Wonka pretended not to see it.
"It just so happens that there are a few empty cases awaiting use in this room," said Mr. Wonka. "There's a big one that was pre-built for Ingstrid's statue when it is finished and hard, but a few smaller ones also were made ahead of time." He took a propped sign that read HARDENING WAX CANDY—DO NOT TOUCH from a far corner of the table and positioned the sign in front of both models.
Both Charlie and Violet stood up, removed their gloves and aprons, and hung them back on the wall. Mr. Wonka continued walking the children along the second row of artwork.
"I will come back in a few hours and place both of those pieces into the refrigerated plexiglass before they will have a chance to melt," explained Mr. Wonka. "Visiting Oompa-Loompas will get to see them amongst everything else."
"Mine is going to stand out, I'm afraid," said Charlie. "I'm an amateur."
"Never you mind that, Charlie. It's still imaginative."
"Are you going to put something in front of mine to clarify that it's bubblegum and not a pretzel?" asked Violet straightforwardly.
Mr. Wonka thought for a second. "Perhaps."
On the other side of the linear room, the group encountered a cluster of cocoa beans, a recreation of Mr. Wonka's caramel-colored top hat, a one-third size gumball machine, the large "WONKA" letters as they appeared in their fancy font over the front gates, and a palm-fitting, abstract hornswoggler that had an indented back and an exaggeratedly distended stomach.
Charlie caught sight of a clock that was hung high up on this wall. It was just a few minutes before three o'clock. He had to meet Mr. Jopeck at three-thirty.
"Mr. Wonka?" he asked, pointing to it. "Is that clock correct?"
Mr. Wonka looked and then checked the watch connected to his waistcoat. "It is indeed. I presume that you need to leave to get your papers now?"
"Factoring in walking time, yes. I also need to pick up my newspaper sack at home first."
"We had best take the Wonkavator to the foyer again," replied Mr. Wonka. He backtracked his guests and walked towards where Ingstrid was still sculpting the posed Oompa-Loompa. A corridor turning right was at the very end of the wall, and upon walking down this part of the room, the Wonkavator's stopping doors were seen immediately to the left. Even more artwork was on display down this corridor, and some visiting Oompa-Loompas were present in the area, admiring the displays. For Mr. Wonka, Charlie, and Violet, though, there was no time to keep looking.
When the Wonkavator arrived a moment later and they stepped in, Charlie asked Mr. Wonka a quick question before having to grip the railing could impede conversation. "I should be completely done with my route in under an hour. Is it okay if I come back for a while afterwards?"
"Not on my watch!" Violet said abruptly before Mr. Wonka could answer.
"Well, there is a sunset curfew issue that I have going on here," Mr. Wonka told Charlie. "Unfortunately, as you know, we're having shorter days right now."
"I think I can make it," said Charlie. He turned to Violet. "Do you have a living space or house of sorts? If you don't want me visiting, that's okay."
"I do have one, but—" She paused. "Will you be supervising again, Mr. Wonka?"
"I'm afraid not," he answered. "A major candy store in Osaka sent me an order for a restock of some of my products, so I will have to spend most of the rest of today filling out paperwork in my office. An Oompa-Loompa can escort the both of you to and from the lodging, but I see no need to supervise that area in any case. You know how to handle yourselves in there. I still will task the Oompa-Loompa to manage the Wonkavator once it's parked in the main living room."
Violet started to protest, but she stopped herself. Groaning, she told Charlie, "Fine. You may return very briefly while daylight is still present, but when dusk starts to show, you will be out of the factory immediately. Capiche?"
Charlie didn't recognize the last word she said and therefore presumed it to be U.S. slang. From context, he guessed that it was a form of confirming one's understanding. Not being able to pronounce it back, he answered, "I understand. I will leave at dusk."
Mr. Wonka then started up the Wonkavator to go to the main foyer. Within moments after the wild ride ended, Charlie was retrieving his coat, hat, and scarf and leaving the building, waving goodbye cheerfully to Mr. Wonka and Violet.
A/N: "Detta är en jätte, man ätande fisk från gammal Loompaland folklore." is Swedish for "This is a giant, man-eating fish from ancient Loompaland folklore." Any mistakes are Google Translate's. (There is a bit of a subtle joke here; Mr. Wonka was speaking in Swedish while looking at a creature resembling a fish. Get it?)
"A star, eleven-point sproggb" is an anagram of "An Everlasting Gobstopper". I owe thanks to a bunch of Scrabble tiles for assisting me with that. (Indeed, as was lampshaded, "sproggb" is not a word.)
"If there is harmony between the mind, heart, and resolution, then nothing is impossible." is a quote from the Vedas (the holy text of Hinduism).
