5: Forcing Overtime
Ω
She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe. Frosting was everywhere. Hot sticky sweetness, always her least favorite kind of candy. The opposite of gum that fit neatly in your mouth, this stuff went everywhere, and was everywhere, it was endless and she felt herself falling and I can't breathe, help me Mom, why can't I breathe—
Then Violet felt herself being pulled from the smothering warmth, a long straw of some kind thrust into her mouth. She breathed gratefully. It was okay. She was going to be okay.
Over the next few hours, stiff and hardening frosting was slowly chiseled off her body. The stuff was like cement, weighing her down. She felt like a statue. The Oompa-Loompas' technique was rather awkward, and once her arms and head were free Violet could do most of it herself. They waited, watching her with unreadable expressions as she worked tirelessly to get free. It was as if her old body was gone and she was sculpting herself a new one—creating her own destiny.
Fourth annual Kids' Sculpting Contest winner, Murphy Candler Park.
Finally most of it was gone. She reflected on her prospects, which were grim. The game was nearly over, all hopes of a comeback out of reach—unless she got some help. And there was only one place it could come from.
"You all saw what happened, right?" she asked the tiny workers.
They were silent of course, but they were listening.
"He's not really that great a boss, is he?"
They shrugged at her, as if to say no, but so what?
"I'll make you guys a deal." Violet smiled.
Ω
The great glass elevator sank like the dreary winter sun, into the hole in the roof from whence it came. Willy Wonka was returning to his factory, but it no longer felt like home.
Where did he go wrong, he wondered? Why did Charlie refuse the offer? He was perfect. A good boy, didn't argue, took direction well…but then he folded, threw away the promise of everything the candy man showed him that day. And for what? His family? His p-p-pa-p-p-par-paaaaaare…oh, blast it. Those things that made children. That's what they really should be called, things.
Wonka at least could speak to grownups, because he knew they were already hopeless. But children frightened him, because their doom was still to come, like a time bomb that could go off at any moment. They were innocent transients, headed for destruction, making it to 10 or maybe 12 years of age before they were lost. And some children were already lost, like four of the five little nightmares he'd invited today.
Why only five children? Why choose them at random? He didn't know. He had some vague recollection of embracing the idea because, unlike most of the things happening in the factory lately, it was his own idea. Now it seemed the Oompa-Loompas were practically creating things on their own. On some days it no longer felt like his factory, but theirs, and he was but a lingering presence in the shadows.
There was far too much on his mind today. He had to go see…well, that one psychologist Oompa-Loompa. They all looked so similar he could rarely tell them apart.
Ω
"I can't put my finger on it," Wonka confessed as he lay on the long sofa.
One of his pint-sized assistants sat close behind him, nodding patiently and scribbling on a notepad. He was merely writing "cuckoo" over and over, but of course Wonka had no way of knowing this.
"Candy's always been the only thing I was ever certain of, and now I'm just not certain at all. I don't know which flavors to make. I don't know which ideas to try. I'm second-guessing myself, which is nuts. I'm always right. About candy, about families, about absolutely rotten little children. If you don't believe me just ask me."
Out of the shadows, a hand gently tapped the Oompa-Loompa on the shoulder. He looked up, stood, and silently crept out of the room.
"I've always made whatever candy I felt like, and I…well that's just it, isn't it?" Wonka pondered aloud. "I make the candy I feel like, but now I feel terrible, so the candy's terrible." He sighed and closed his eyes. "You're very good."
"I'm better than good," said the voice of Violet Beauregarde. "I'm the best."
For a moment Wonka went stiff, his eyes wide with fear—but then he realized, what did he have to fear from her? True, he had no idea how she got here, how she was still in here to torment him, but it was his factory.
He stood up from the sofa and faced her. She looked as determined and disagreeable as ever. Her jogging suit was ruined, caked and crusted with white frosting. She'd lost the shoes somewhere and her feet looked like little cement blocks, pieces crumbling on his nice carpet with every step she took. "I think our business was concluded here a long time ago, don't you, gummy?"
"Violet."
"Miss Gum-Chewer-Gummy-Chewy Face."
"You cheated."
"It's my game. My rules. You were really quite silly to think you could win," Wonka insisted. "Just a silly, spoiled little girl. And it seems you still haven't been punished enough."
Wonka snapped his fingers. A dozen Oompa-Loompas appeared and quickly surrounded her. He pulled one more piece of that defective three-course gum from his pocket and started towards her. She tried to back away but there was only the wall on one side, the midgets on the other.
The room seemed so dark all of a sudden. Violet couldn't even see Wonka's eyes as he advanced on her. His bloodless face never changed expression.
"This is what you like the best, isn't it? Your precious gum. And this kind tastes delicious. Yes, it will turn you into a blueberry—but that was supposed to happen from the beginning. Don't fight it."
She shook her head. He was close now. Right in front of her.
"This game is not yours to win, Violet. It never was," Two of his fingers touched her face. They were ice cold. "Open wide-this won't hurt a bit."
Time for a trick play.
"Gee, you sound like your father," she whispered.
Wonka froze solid. His already deathly skin turned even whiter. A faraway look crept into his eyes. "F….f…fa…ther?"
He stood there in a trance, gibbering and flashbacking for several minutes. When he finally looked down again, Violet and the Oompa-Loompas were gone.
It seemed the game was not over yet.