Mr. Wonka led the four visitors through the yellow corridor, cheerfully explaining the layout of his factory. Every few moments the party would pass a colored door, words emblazoned in bronze across its surface.
"Mr. Wonka," Bill said, reading the words, "what's behind all these doors?"
Mr. Wonka halted in his tracks, turning to face the inquirer. "Behind these doors, gentlemen, are the places where I make a specific type of candy. Keeping the machines separate from each other means I can make peanut-free candy for people with peanut allergies, soy-free candy for people with soy allergies, and so on, while also being able to make candies with those ingredients for the rest of the people in the world." He gestured to the nearest door. "This room happens to be where I make caramel-dipped candies. Would you care to take a look?"
The four men exchanged a look.
"Of course," George said on all their behalf.
"Good!" Mr. Wonka pulled a large ring of keys from his pocket, and somehow managed to find the right one. He inserted it into the lock on the door and turned...there was a click, and the door swung inward. "Come along, then!" he said with a wave. "I am very proud of my caramel dipped candies!"
The CARAMEL DIPPED CANDIES ROOM was very different than the yellow corridor outside; the room was still painted a cheerful color, but the walls were mostly hidden from view by great lengths of pipes and wires. On the floor there were mounds of curious steaming machinery, huge vats filled with thick, bubbling liquid, and tables where dozens of Oompa-loompas sat, wrapping the candies. The Oompa-loompas were everywhere; Bill didn't doubt that there were at least a hundred of them in this cavernous space that was more a warehouse than a room. More of the tiny men were busily pushing carts laden with candies, standing at attention beside control panels, polishing the various machines.
"And this is just one room?" Art muttered to no one in particular. Mr. Wonka heard him.
"Of course! You can't expect me to make so many delicious candies in a room the size of a nursery! There wouldn't be enough of my candy to satisfy my customers if I did that!"
Robert was closely examining the machinery.
"Mr. Wonka, how much would you estimate the value of the machinery in this room?"
"Well..." the candymaker seemed to think hard for a moment. "The machines are unique; I built them myself. Speaking purely of material cost, I would say the value is about three hundred thousand pounds."
Robert pulled out a pen and pad of paper from his breast pocket, scribbling a note. "Then I suggest that you look into setting up insurance for your equipment, in the event you ever lose or damage your property." he handed Mr. Wonka the paper. The candymaker took it, then indifferently threw it over his shoulder. He turned on his heel, suddenly excited. "Come over here; I have something I must show you!" he led them over to a massive vat filled with a purplish treacle. It was thick and bubbling, and looked less like candy than it did toxic waste.
"This, gentlemen, is the beginning of a new line of caramels...purple caramels. They have a certain side effect, however...for some reason, they fill the consumer with a sense of daring and bravado. So, for now, this mixture is known as Dare-a-mels."
"That sounds like a good thing," Robert said. "Why don't you sell it as it is? I'm sure people would like to feel brave."
"No," Mr. Wonka said sadly. "The candy only makes the eater feel brave. Real bravery comes from a person's heart, not from candy."
"Come on, Mr. Wonka," Robert insisted. "It would be great. Think of all the..."
"I said no," Mr. Wonka said firmly. "The last thing the world needs is a bunch of people running around with false bravado. There would be trouble all over the place!"
The candymaker turned away.
Robert decided it was an opportunity. "I'll show him..." The walls of the vat were as high as his chest, but with some difficulty he managed to reach in the top and pull out a handful of the oozy candy. It was warm, not hot enough to burn, but it stained the cuff of his jacket. No matter. He licked the stuff off his fingers, amazed at the creaminess of the caramel flavor. "This is delicious!"
His exclamation made Wonka whirl around, the candymaker's face pale. "What have you done?"
"I'm simply showing you how good your candy is," the salesman said with a smile, purple candy smeared across his chin. "See? No harm done."
"Not yet," Willy muttered under his breath.
"I feel fine," Robert said walking away from the vat. "In fact, I feel great!"
"Here it comes," Willy said to no in particular.
Robert broke out in song, the other three guests watching with mouths agape.
Robert, meanwhile, had the benefit of an Oompa-loompa orchestra that had assembled in anticipation of this moment. They played their instruments with Robert's ad-libbed song. It went something like this:
I feel fine! In fact, I feel great!
I feel so fantastic, I must celebrate!
Never before have I felt joy like this,
Enveloped in bravery, enclosed in bliss!
Sometime before I lived like a coward;
Sometime ago I lived like a sheep,
But now a new bravery I have discovered,
Now there is nothing that could frighten me...
I'll take on the world,
Take on the whole world;
No more will I hide,
I will face strife with pride,
I will take death in stride,
Can't scare me, now that I'm free.
Can't scare me, now that I'm...
About halfway through the song, Robert had climbed up on some of the taller machinery, as if to prove his bravery. Oompa-loompas ducked and scurried to get out of his way, flashing rude hand gestures in his direction. They were all but ignored; Robert decided to use the moment to conquer his fear of heights. He started walking along a thin pipe that stretched between two of the taller machines, perhaps twenty feet up in the air. Below the pipe was an open vat of sugar water, the base ingredient for making caramel.
"Robert, get down from there!" Bill shouted. Robert continued to sing his song, and when he was about halfway, he turned to look down at his audience with pride. This proved to be his undoing; he slipped and lost his footing, falling from the pipe into the vat below. As the container's walls were made of a clear material, the onlookers were able to watch with horror as Robert flailed and floundered to the surface. Right about now the effect of the candy was wearing off, and bravado left Robert to be replaced with fear.
"Help!" he called, bobbing to the side of the vat. The walls were higher than he could reach, and his hands slipped against the inner surface of the wall. Mr. Wonka shook his head. "There goes a whole week's caramel production..."
"Mr. Wonka, you've got to help him!" Bill said. "You can't just let a man die in your factory...its illegal!"
"Well, I suppose you're right." he turned toward an Oompa-loompa and started to say something, only to be cut off as the Loompa-orchestra started playing an upbeat tune. Every Oompa-loompa in the room stopped whatever they were doing and started dancing in synchronization, as if every move had been choreographed.
"Oh, good!" Mr. Wonka said with a smile. "A performance. I'm sure you will like this, gentlemen. The Oompa-loompas are excellent entertainers."
Robert Shoeman, we're sad to see
Decided to feign true bravery
And though his intentions were all well meant
They landed him in this predicament.
If only he had listened, he
Would not now be in misery.
But now, as he goes splash, splash, splash,
Every move he makes may be his last,
For how could Robby have known before
The many things we have in store
For him as he nears the reservoir drain?
(We're not sure ourselves, but we know there's pain)
Of course, though there is much to fear,
Bravery isn't the lesson here.
Rather, it's obedience,
Usually that's common sense,
Which we hope you've learned through this song;
Now learn your lesson, and move along.
The orchestra finished, and all the Oompa-loompas returned to work. The three visitors, meanwhile, had watched with horror as the struggling Robert was sucked into a large drain at the bottom of the vat.
"Mr. Wonka!" Bill said, "Robert's gone!"
"Oh, dear," Willy said, cupping his chin in hand. He turned again to the Oompa-loompa who had been waiting patiently beside him. "Listen! You need to look in the storage tank for the carmelizer. Do it quickly, or the man will drown, or even worse...get poured into the boiler."
The tiny man chuckled nastily, then ran off toward a huge machine some distance away. Mr. Wonka turned toward the remaining men.
"Now you know why I can't sell that candy yet," he said sadly.
"I'm afraid Robert only proved your point," Bill said. His tone was subdued, but privately he was glad that he wouldn't have to compete with another insurance salesman.
"Well," Mr. Wonka said, gesturing back toward the outside corridor, "Let's move along."