I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. Thank you for the fabulous feedback and support. Special shout-out goes to Yva for her beta reading. Her "A Spoonful of Sugar" is one hell of a read and I'm honored to have her help. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 64
The collective group held its breath as the single drop of crystalline green liquid fell from the tap of the complicated distillation equipment and into the rotating vortex of clear liquid in the beaker below.
The green was washed away in the greater amount, but scarcely a moment later, bright purple color swirled from the heart of the vortex to wash throughout the beaker turning everything inside the bright color.
"Kill it! Kill it!" Willy said urgently, easing the beaker out from under the spigot and making sure no further distilled essence made it into the beaker. Seeing a single drop smoking on the back of his glove due to his actions he carefully set the beaker down and quickly ripped off the glove and carefully dropped it into the hazardous material disposal. He replaced his glove with a new one – in a plain translucent color before wiping his head.
Flavor chemistry was not for the faint of heart!
Charlie was turning a clamp as quickly as he could and the single drop resting at the tip of the spigot stopped its pregnant process and shuddered in the light for a moment. They watched carefully, but it made no further movements.
"Okay –we've added in the last of the elderberry weed extract – that should hopefully counteract the HGH elastin additive that gives the Stretching Taffy its effect. The proportions we're working with are so minute, that one extra drop would have ruined a whole afternoon's work." Willy explained to Charlie.
Tupik-Ra stood watching his employer's work with new appreciation. It wasn't often that he got a chance to see beyond the immature mask that he wore with the rest of the world, but this day's glimpse into the true genius of Willy Wonka just further deepened his respect for the man.
"Okay – you learned about distillations in Chemistry – so for someone of Tupik-Ra's weight…"
"About 13.7 stone," Tupik-Ra said helpfully.
"And you need 10 ml per kilo… with a limit of 7.6…" Willy scribbled on the pad of paper by his side, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. He frowned at his handwriting when finished, squinting at the numbers.
"Charlie, can you read this?" he asked, handing the pad to his apprentice with a flourish
The dark haired teenager could read his mentor's writing clearly, and nodded,"Right, so we need to break up the stuff in the beaker into what looks like 4.6 ML/L for oral ingestion."
"Think you can handle it? After all it is just a whole afternoon's work and Tupik-Ra's life on the stake here," Willy asked, giving him a bright grin.
Charlie returned the grin and shrugged, "Sure, if I can handle the factory while you were gone and deal with Slugworth, this is a cakewalk."
Tupik-Ra watched nervously, but Charlie's assured movements as he poured the distilled water into a clean beaker did much to relieve his worry.
Willy him Charlie fondly, "You realize Charlie, that this year you're eligible as a student flavorist if you choose."
Willy was referring of course to his membership in the British Society of Flavorist. He'd been an upstanding member in years past until his disenchantment with the outside world. Since Charlie had joined him however, he'd taken minimal actions to rejoin since membership provided networking opportunities and a chance for Charlie to learn more about the industry.
"I guess," Charlie said with minimal interest, his whole attention eaten up by the task at hand.
He carefully added the last drop, swirling the liquid carefully.
"Okay Tupik-Ra, you know what to do," Willy said, rubbing his hands together in excitement.
The Oompa Loompa man slipped off his shoes and took up a position by the door next to an upturned bucket. Willy hopped up on top of the bucket and used a pencil to mark the lawyer's height, 'Okay – you're at 6'1" right now. Take a taste of our little creation and let's see what happens."
"Why do you use a bucket instead of a stepstool?" Charlie asked curiously.
Willy held up one finger to indicate patience as he handed the beaker to Tupik-Ra.
Hesitantly, he took the beaker with the diluted mixture and sniffed. It smelled vaguely like wine, but when he sipped, it had a cool flavor – like mint or melon.
Both men watched him avidly, like he was expected to explode or something.
"Anything?" Charlie asked, glancing at his stopwatch. "Something should be happening by now."
"Patience," Willy said, glancing over his notes one more time just to ensure his calculations were correct.
There was a warm feeling, centering the bottom of Tupik-Ra's stomach. He relayed the information and waited to see what else would happen.
The warm feeling spread out down his arms and legs, making his toes tingle and his head buzz.
"What's happening?" Charlie asked, pencil poised to take notes.
Tupik-Ra waited, but the warm feeling faded and he still wasn't the right size yet.
"I hate to alarm, but I have to admit
The potion's not working,
I'm not shrinking a bit!"
The Oompa Loompa said sadly, missing the startled looks from the Chocolatier and his apprentice.
"What did you feel?" Willy asked carefully.
"A nice warming glow,
from head to my toe
then it faded away
and now…Hey!"
Tupik started as he realized he was speaking in rhyme.
"What's going on?
What's this all about?
I rhyme when I speak,
Which is strange, have no doubt.
But what about shrinking, to original size –
I just want to go back to normal, you guys."
Charlie indicated for the Oompa Loompa to take his place in the doorway to check his height. The teenager carefully measured and marked. As he stepped away, the boy's face brightened and he let out a hoot of glee, "Willy! He's down to 5'10", so it wasn't a complete waste."
Willy nodded, stroking his chin, "It might be the proportions. We'll keep an eye on you for now to see if it's a constant trend or a onetime burst. We're probably onto something here."
"What about L.A. - my lady so dear?
Will this work on her, just to be clear?"
Tupik-Ra asked carefully.
Willy patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, "I've got a pretty good guess that it would. Considering that she's been like this for a couple of years though, I want to be extra cautious."
The lawyer's shoulders slumped and he nodded slowly.
Then his stomach turned over and he felt nauseous.
Willy saw the color drain from his face and sweat pop up on his forehead. With a lightning fast move, he snatched the overturned bucket and tossed it to Tupik-Ra just as his traumatized system could handle no more and he was noisily sick.
"Hmm….maybe a bit too strong on the elderberry weed still." He muttered over the dry-heaving.
The Chocolatier looked nonplussed, but was matter of fact pouring a bit more of plain distilled water for the Oompa Loompa to swish and spit when the spasm passed.
"That is what the bucket is for, Charlie. Never use two things when you can use one."
--
Later that day found Willy working in his office speaking with one of his suppliers in the U.S. as he tried, without much success to launch another pencil to stick in the plaster over his head.
"Dude! I'm telling you, World of Warcraft is the bomb!" said David Atkins, head of Atkins paper products and supplier of the labels for Wonka products. David was also an avid on-line gamer and had been trying to convince Willy for years to join.
"I'm not interested – you know I'm not interested. Why do you persist?' Willy demanded, flinching as a freshly sharpened pencil came back down and narrowly avoided impaling him in the process.
"Because, if you give it a try, I'll knock off an additional 25 percent off your next order of a quarter a million pounds on the big 140 inch rolls," Dave said. "But I've got to get verification that it's you online and not some flunky."
Willy tapped his teeth, leaning back and twirling in his chair. Paper costs had been up and that break would go quite a long way for the Easter season…
"Gee Dave, I dunno. I don't want to make a big deal and have someone jump all over me for endorsement," he said finally. Spencer had been after him to give this a try too. What was it about him that screamed "geek" to these two anyway?
"Relax! You don't have to use your real name – that's half the fun. You can be…um…like Ragnok the Elf Slayer."
"What's wrong with elves that they need slaying?"
Dave sighed in exasperation, "It's a game – you can be whatever you'd like. Seriously, are you in or not? I'll pump it up to 30 off."
"Okay. Fine. I'll give it a whirl tonight. Just send me what I need to get started," Willy said, satisfied at the deal. A few hours of his time tonight just saved him about 45,000 in paper cost.
"Cool. Check your e-mail and it'll be in there. Oh – whoever you end up playing, just drop me the code phrase, 'Micky, I want your hot pants' so I know it's you. Don't want to smoke you by accident because I thought you were a troll."
"What?" Willy asked in astonishment, "Hot pants? Troll? What are you smoking, dude?"
Dave attempted to explain, but about three words in, Doris threw open the door and ran into the room, her eyes wide in alarm. She indicated for his attention, jumping up and down and waving wildly.
Considering the most excited he'd ever seen her was a smile over a mug he'd gotten her for Christmas a few years ago, Willy knew that it was serious.
"Dave! Whatever. I gotta go. Later!" he dropped the phone back into its cradle and pushed himself to his feet. 'Doris, what's up?"
"Won-Ka. Sherman needs you in the Television room. He says it's an emergency." She said, her voice high-pitched in concern. The matronly Oompa Loompa was twisting her hands in agitation and her warm eyes were worried.
Not waiting for her to finish, he snatched his hat and coat from the stand and grabbed his cane as he darted out the door. His arms were tangled up in his jacket as he tried to pull it on as he ran, getting tangled with his cane.
What's going on? Veronica's working at home, L.A? Or was it Tupik-Ra? Was he having some sort of adverse reaction to this morning's experiment? What could get Sherman to call an emergency? He was the most unflappable Oompa Loompa in the place…
Considering that the Television room was one of the few rooms closer to his office than the Wonkavator stop point, he sprinted as fast as he could. His heels clacked on the hard floor and he hurtled over workers as they worked, dodging around carts and careening out of the way as they heard him pounding up the corridor.
He was almost there and he could hear crashing and screaming. Something flew out of the open door and smashed into the wall of the hallway. He could see the crouched figures of Sherman and Herman as they took shelter from the raging female within.
What the heck?
Willy slid to a stop and peered around the corner to assess the situation. Something else flew by his ear and he pressed himself against the wall of the hallway, trying to listen to the shrieking and figure out who it was.
"That slimy no-class son of a incestual goat, ball-licking…" a woman's voice was muttering, interspaced with the clacking of high-heel shoes on a hard floor.
"Hello?" he called, pressing his back to the wall and hoping nothing else would fly out the door.
The steps stopped in surprise, "Won-Ka?"
Willy peeked in and saw a furious L.A. holding another of her prized coffee mugs ready to fling.
"Don't shoot!" he yelled, flinching back.
L.A. sighed heavily, "I'm not aiming at you. You'd better come in here and see this."
She set the mug down and handed the tentative Chocolatier a heavy brown envelope. She paced angrily, clenching fist and kicking occasional chairs when she wandered into their path. Sherman and Herman slowly entered the room and surveyed the damage with wide eyes.
"L.A. my child, what has upset you so badly?" Sherman breathed, looking incredulously at the shattered mess around them. Never had a single Oompa Loompa been capable of such destruction.
Willy peered inside the package. It was a collection of marketing materials from Slugworth Candies. That alone was enough to upset him. What was this tripe doing in his factory?
He glanced over the products, and stopped as he double-checked to see if what he read was actually what was written.
Dandy Dishes?
Edible dishes for everyday use? Not a bad idea, or course keeping them from dissolving while eating dinner would be a problem followed quickly with getting them to dissolve while eating them...
A cold feeling struck him as he read further. This was something that Slugworth could not have come up with in a million years by himself. It was too innovative and lateral-thinking for the old man. This had to be coming from somewhere else. Somewhere close to home...
"So? It's a good idea. I'm not thrilled to see them do it, but what's got you in a knot?" he asked suspiciously.
L.A. sneered and walked over and pulled a letter to the top of the pile of paperwork. It was an inter-company e-mail setting up a marketing meeting with the new Slugworth spokesperson.
Victor Brahm.
Under that message was another from some civil lawyer in California and Slugworth Candies asking about conceptual trademark and whether or not there were grounds to pursue a lawsuit against Wonka Inc. for patent infringement.
"Where did you get this?" he asked in cold voice as his rage suddenly crystallized as he realized what he was holding.
"It was mailed to Veronica. She was taking a break and visiting when she opened her mail," L.A. said, calming slightly upon seeing his face.
"She's in her apartment – Won-Ka, I think she's in shock." L.A. said, taking the package back from his numb hands.
"I need to see her. Get Sni-Ki to look into this and get Tupik-Ra spun up. This means war." He snapped, bolting for the Wonkavator.
Slugworth was going to try and sue him for using Veronica's methods and ideas under some lame claim that they had the process first. That was one thing, but using that slime Victor as their spokesperson for their new product – something was missing there. Willy had a feeling that Veronica knew more about this at the moment than he did.
It was only a few moments until he was at the tunnel and only a moment more before he was standing at her door. It was standing ajar and unlocked and he could hear muffled sobbing inside.
"Veronica?" he asked, pushing the door open and trying to locate the source of the sobbing.
The apartment was silent except for the noise and he walked as soundlessly as possible to her bedroom.
Inside, Veronica was curled up on the bed, knees to chest, rocking back and forth while she cried. But the expression on her face wasn't anything he was expecting.
It was pure fury.
"Veronica? What's going on?" he asked, sitting next to her on the bed.
"Victor. It's Victor," she muttered, tears of rage streaming down her cheeks. She spoke through gritted teeth. "The son-of-a-bitch stole my ideas and turned them over to Slugworth to save his own worthless ass."
"Your ideas? Dandy Dishes?" he asked in surprise. The aching familiarity of the idea that Slugworth was selling finally making sense. The source of the idea was sitting next to him.
"Yes. When I first worked with Victor, before I realized what an utter shit he was, I came up with the idea and played around with it for a bit. He took notes while I worked. God, I was so naïve," she sniffed, angrily wiping tears off her face and staring at the middle distance.
"All my work – my recipes – everything is based off that one simple recipe for moldable spun sugar, and now he's trying to steal it out from under me."
Willy felt like someone had shot him. Stolen her ideas?
He knew from intimate experience the level of betrayal and rage that she was feeling. To have something beautiful that you created, slaved over, cared for like your own child to be taken from you and twisted into some horrible caricature and cheapened by an enemy and used against you.
Yes, he knew what she was feeling.
"Veronica," he breathed, laying one hand on her shoulder sympathetically.
"He's not going to get away with this," she snarled, twisting to her feet. "There's no way I'm letting him get away with this. I've been terrorized, beaten, blackmailed and humiliated – this is the last straw."
"I'll help," he said in a low voice, hands twisting on his cane with little convulsive jerks.
A plan started to bloom in his mind – the seeds planted by her months ago starting to come to fruition and suddenly he knew that both Slugworth and Brahm had made a terrible mistake angering this woman. The best part is they hadn't realized it yet and he knew how to get revenge…bittersweet revenge.
"What do you say to a little party crashing," he asked, a horrible, wonderful smile creeping across his face. "We need to swing by to grab Tupik-Ra before we go, but I think a little personal visit is in order. The marketing meeting is today – we're making an unexpected stop by," he said, giving her a vicious smile that contained far too many teeth.
"Let's go," she said, collecting a beat-up denim jacket and slipping it on over her casual tee shirt and cargo pants. "Let me get my baseball bat, and I'll be ready."
"No weapons," he said sternly.
When she turned, he was mildly unsettled by the gleam of insanity in her eye, "But Willy, it would be impolite to show up without a gift."
"Veronica." He warned.
She pouted, "Fine. I hope you're thinking of fire-bombing, little else is going to satisfy me at this point."
He shuddered at her bloodthirsty demands. Getting even was fine, but all out anarchy was a short trip to prison.
He was much too pretty for prison – then again so was she…
He pulled her to his side and grabbed her to collect a hungry kiss.
"We're going to stop this," Willy promised her intently, his violet eyes sparking like lightning. "For all that he's done and is trying to do. For the depths he's sunk and the monster he's become, we're going to stop him."
His face was frightening, but she took solace in his words.
"I promise."