Washing off all of the chocolate from his body was a time consuming pain for Charlie, at first it almost looked as is it didn't matter how long he scrubbed since there were still flakes of dried chocolate all over his pasty, ivory skin, and even worse, in between his hair. But eventually he removed all of the flakes, or at least enough where he was comfortable getting out of the shower. Unsurprisingly, the melted chocolate had literally left its mark all over Charlies body in the form of red burn splotches from contact with a heated substance. Fortunately, they were only small burns and would heal with time, but for the mean time they would serve as reminders to the lengths his mentor would go to solve a problem. The Good Boy then shaved off the mess that had begun to grow all over the lower part of his face and restoring himself to his usual babyface self, and changed into a clean pair of clothes for the first time since Veruca ended their relationship. There was something about being squeaky clean that made Charlie feel that much less depressed about his reality. Unlike his relationship, he had the power to chose what he would do after getting thrown into the chocolate river; stay dirty or wash it off.
His feelings seemed to be the thing that everyone appeared to be discussing that day, something that didn't surprise Charlie since he knew that everyone around him cared so deeply about him, but his emotions were still something he wished others would stop inquiring about. The Good Boy had always been vocal about his feelings and was not afraid to be emotional, perhaps a bit too emotional, but never did he think he would be talking to someone else about how he was doing on an emotional level. Wonka had ordered Charlie to appear at the main corridor once he was done cleaning himself up and the Good Boy did as he was told, but he didn't expect to see what he saw. Inside the first room of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory he ever entered all those years ago were Willy Wonka, an Oompa Loompa dressed in a gray, diamond-striped three-piece suit and a pair of black, round glasses and two pieced of leather furniture, a black chaise lounge sofa and a dark ruby armchair. The Good Boy had seen enough American TV shows and movies to know exactly what was going on, he was about to have a session with a psychologist.
"Oh, Wonka, you can't be serious. I'm not mad!" Charlie exclaimed as he walked on the long red carpet running from the main entrance to the entrance of the Chocolate Room.
And, as if he were speaking to a person on the other side of the street, Wonka responded to his heir's accusations from yelling halfway down the main corridor, clarifying, "No one said you were crazy, my dear boy, and therapy is nothing to be ashamed of. We all have moments when we need to talk about our problems in order to feel better. And besides, I have therapy sessions all the time and I'm doing well because of it."
"I believe you're in therapy, I'm just not sure about that last part," the Good Boy whispered to himself.
Apparently, Wonka was able to hear what Charlie had mumbled, but, nevertheless, he put his heir's wellbeing before his own needs and instead tried to persuade him to give therapy a shot, pleading, "Charlie, all I'm asking you to do is give it a try, I think it will do you good. Now, I'm going to leave, so please, let Sigmund here know how you're feeling. Tell him all about your break up, he'll be able to help you figure out what you're supposed to do in order to feel fulfilled again."
The Good Boy watched as the amazing chocolatier strolled back, cane in hand that make constant contact with the red carpet, towards the Chocolate Room, leaving him literally the last man standing in the main corridor. Charlie really didn't want to be there because he didn't think the session would do him any good, and he made his skepticism know as he took a seat in the black chaise lounge sofa, claiming, "Now, I should warn you, Sigmund, I don't believe in this therapy poppycock. I don't know why Americans think talking about their problems with a stranger will help them get over whatever they're dealing with. But, this is for Mr. Wonka, so I'll give it a shot."
From the movies and TV shows he had seen, the Good Boy knew that he was supposed to lie down completely straight and face up towards the ceiling on the black chaise lounge sofa, and so he went along with this silly tradition as he introduced himself, saying, "Alright, so, what can I tell you, I'm Charlie, the heir apparent, as you probably already know. And a few weeks ago I suffered a terrible break up and instead of doing my work I just stayed up in my room to wallow in my own misery."
Sigmund didn't seem all that impressed by what Charlie had offered up, he just kept on staring at the Good Boy, making the shy man feel even more uncomfortable than he already was. So, in order to make the attention feel less awkward, the heir opened up some more about his life, yet he still kept Veruca's identity a secret as to not cause a scandal if the revelation somehow made it out of his therapy session, and elaborated, "I guess I should tell you a bit more about my love interest, or should I say former love interest. I met her years ago, but she didn't really notice me the first time we met. Although, things changed when we had a chance encounter at a pub about a month ago. She was a mess that night, so I took her home and even though she was incredibly rude I asked her if she would like to spend some time together. I thought if she just had someone to be at her side then maybe she would stop hitting the bottle as hard as she does, and I guess it did work, she drank less and less every time we saw each other, although I doubt she will stop drinking. She had a rather rough childhood, ironically she was spoilt by her father and that left her unprepared to face the real world. She also got attacked by some wild animals as a child, so, you know, that must have surely damaged her significantly. But alas, my plan failed, she told me she never wanted to see me again and that was when I fell into a depressive state. I was actually contemplating...throwing myself down a rubbish chute, like the one in the Nut Sorting Room. Have you ever been there? Anyways, if I wanted to end it quickly, I guess the fall would've killed me, and if that didn't work, then the incinerator would surely do the trick."
Those last few, dark words were rightfully enough for Sigmund to write something down on his notepad, and it was at that moment that Charlie knew he had messed up. He had said something that made him look like someone who needed to be kept over the weekend at the psych ward. So, the heir did what any other person in his position would do, try to redeem himself in the eyes of his judge, and explained, "You're not going to count that against me, are you?! I'm not planning on going through with it now, just so we're clear!
And, once again, Sigmund seemed unimpressed by what Charlie had to say. He was doing his job as a psychologist and no one, not even his patient, would get in his way. And so, after taking more notes on the heir's darkest thoughts he continued to stare at him, only to have to spin his open hand in a circular motion, gesturing to Charlie to continue speaking. Which was actually something the Good Boy eagerly wanted to do now to shift the focus away from that dark moment of his life, and eagerly asking, "Uh, oh, you want more?"
Sigmund nodded in response while the heir straightened himself on the chaise lounge sofa, and added, "Very well, um, I guess it's worth mentioning that my love interest was the first actual love interest I've ever had. I mean, she's the only one who's ever responded positively to me being open about my feelings towards her before. I experienced nothing but rejection from women for years, so when she agreed to spend time together at all I was over the moon. Finally I had found someone who I could share all of my intimate details with, and even better, it was someone I had first met years ago. You know, I really wasn't noticing girls yet when I first met her, I was sort of a late bloomer, I guess, but I thought she was very pretty when I first laid my eyes on her all those years ago. But, when I met her I thought she was no good since she was loud, and I mean really, really loud. But now, I'm intrigued by that, I'm intrigued by girls who speak their mind and make their opinions known. However, I can also see how some people might not find those traits appealing as they can easily veer into bossiness and contempt for others, and she is very much prone to that, yet, I'll still defend her."
Sigmund kept on taking notes on how Charlie could defend someone so indefensible, but instead of trying to sugar coat who Veruca truly was, the Good Boy decided he had to be honest about who she was, leading him to explain, "You can call my love interest many things; cold, manipulative...a bitch."
"I know, I know, naughty boy," Charlie appended only half-joking because he truly did feel dirty after using such foul language, and in an attempt to cleans his conscious he slapped his wrist as punishment, the only problem was that he actually put some strength behind the slap.
"Ow, that actually hurt. See, it's kind of red," the Good Boy cried out before showing the back of his left hand to Sigmund, who nodded in agreement.
Parts of Charlie's face were still red from the burns he endured while slathered in melted chocolate and for some reason he thought he had to distinguish between the two different types of marks on his body, leading him state, "Oh, and that's not from when Mr. Wonka threw me into the chocolate river, that's all me."
"Anyways, back to the point I was trying to make; you can call her many things, but what you can't call her is fake. The only thing fake about her is that princess act she pulls when she wants something. That and…you know," the Good Boy explained as he cupped his open palms and hovered them over his chest, but again, that lead him to feel repulsed at his inappropriate response to his memory of Veruca.
"Again, naughty boy," Charlie added, slapping himself on the hand as punishment again, but not as strong as the first time in order to prevent another mark.
The Good Boy had veered off into the realm of parody and obfuscation a while back instead of defending Veruca after smearing his so-called love interest, and he knew he had to explain what it was about her that he liked so much, and that is why with conviction in his voice, he straightened up on the chaise lounge sofa, and added, "Yet, for as long as I've known her, she's always been straightforward; bratty, entitled and demanding, but straightforward nonetheless. I can't tell you how many times I've been rejected by women, but I also can't tell you how many times women began showing an interest in me when they found out I'm Charlie Bucket, the heir to the Wonka candy empire. Now, I should also tell you that my interest does come from a well-to-do family, she herself will never have to worry about where her next meal will come from, and from what I could tell, she didn't seem to be after my money. In fact, the reason she told me why we had to stop seeing each other was because I was born poor, apparently, I wasn't up to the standards her family upholds. And, to make matters worse, now that she rejected me, that only makes me desire her even more. It's like the forbidden fruit, I guess. You always want what you can't have."