Disclaimer: all familiar material belongs to either Roald Dahl, author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Warner Bros. for the film adaptations of the book, and Eoin Colfer, author of the Artemis Fowl series.
A.N. Much thanks to Harry Artemis Jackson for commenting! Public approval is the reason this continues! Reader input is valued, so don't be shy when it comes to giving your thoughts, likes, or dislikes about the story!
The Tour Begins
The sun was shining brightly on the morning of the big day, but the ground was still white with snow and the air was very cold. Outside the gates of Wonka's factory, enormous crowds of people had gathered to watch the four lucky ticket holders going in. There had been no news on the fifth, and as Mr. Wonka had not sent any word out about postponing the tour until the last ticket was recovered, everyone assumed he would lead the other four into his factory. The excitement was tremendous. It was just before ten o'clock. The crowds were rushing and shouting, and policemen with arms linked were trying to hold them back from the gates. Suddenly a long black limousine came up the street, the crowd getting out of the way for fear of being run over. All eyes were diverted from the factory gates to see what the commotion was; even the four famous children, along with their parents, looked over to see what was so important that the crowd was no longer looking at them. The limousine stopped, a man in chauffeur garb getting out to open the passenger doors. Out of one side emerged Butler, dressed in a creaseless suit that also managed to conceal his various weapons. From the other side, Artemis stepped out, also wearing a suit, and feeling very conspicuous as the eyes of the throng focused on this strange new arrival.
"Good day, sir," the chauffeur said, closing the door. He returned to the front, waving to Artemis before driving away.
Butler placed a hand on his Principal's shoulder. "Are you ready?"
Artemis swallowed. He was not afraid; he had never been afraid before. But he did feel nervous. The eyes of hundreds of people were focused on him as he and Butler walked toward the gates. When they were about halfway there, someone remembered to ask questions, setting the crowd into a frenzy. Reporters shouted inquiries at the new arrival, asking his name, his relation to the big man with him, did he find the last ticket, and the like. Artemis did not answer; he could not. He had just discovered that he hated crowds, and was reminded why he liked being home so much. It was quiet. He could meditate, could hear himself think. But here, his genius mind was all but drowned out by the noise.
Butler, sensing the unease of his young charge, gently nudged the boy forward, serving as a living shield between him and the horde of reporters. He felt Artemis relax slightly, and they managed to make it to the factory gates where a row of policemen separated the mob of onlookers from the ticket winners. One officer looked over the newcomers with a suspicious glare. "What're ye doin' here? Are ya the last ticket winner, lad?"
"Yes, sir." Artemis flashed his ticket, and the officer nodded respectfully, stepping aside to let Artemis and his escort pass.
The looks he received from the other children were no less scathing than the ones he was given by the crowd of rabble outside the protective ring of policemen. He recognised each of them, but as he had declined a public announcement of his Ticket "find", no one knew who he was, which was the way he wanted to keep it. He may have wanted to indulge his inner child just this once, but that didn't mean he could blow his cover. He still was Artemis Fowl the criminal mastermind, after all.
When they approached the other winners, the one named Violet Beauregarde raised a brow, chewing her gum loudly as she sized up the newcomers. "Who are you?"
The others asked the same question inaudibly, looking toward Artemis and his escort with distrust. Aliases, he could handle. "Connor Lafferty," he said coolly, holding out a hand. Violet ignored it, craning her neck to look up at Butler. "Are you his dad?"
"Uncle," Butler said. "Patrick Lafferty."
"You don't look Irish," a boy said. Artemis recognized the critical voice of Mike Teavee. He was about to snap a retort when the bells of a nearby church rang out the hour, and the doors to the factory swung open, and everyone in the crowd held their breaths as someone in ornate purple attire came out of the factory doors.
"There he is!" somebody shouted. "That's him!"
And so it was! Mr. Wonka was standing all alone just inside the open gates of the factor. And what an extraordinary little man he was! He had a black top hat on his head. He wore a tail coat made of beautiful plum velvet. His trousers were violet. His gloves were a lovely shade of lavender. covering his chin, there was a small neat pointed beard-a goatee. And his eyes-his eyes were most marvelously bright. They seemed to be sparkling and twinkling all the time. The whole face, in fact, seemed to be alight with fun and laughter, which Artemis found to be rather unsettling. Suddenly, he did a little skipping dance, spread his arms wide as if to embrace the crowd, and smiled at the five ticket winners and their escorts. "Welcome my little friends! Welcome to my factory! Will you come forward, one at a time please? And bring your parents. Then show me your Golden Ticket and give me your name. Who shall be first?"
The big fat boy—Augustus—moved forward, but was shoved aside by Veruca, who dragged her embarrassed father behind her. "My name is Veruca Salt."
Artemis wanted to smash her in the face right then and there, or at least have Butler do it, but Mr. Wonka did not seem to notice her behavior in the least.
"My dear Veruca! What a pleasure this is! And how lovely you look in that pretty mink coat!" He glanced at her ticket and waved her and her father in. Next came Augustus Gloop and his mother, and Artemis wondered if Wonka noticed how the two waddled as they walked. It was rather unbecoming, but as before, Wonka greeted them both amiably, bestowing the same warm welcome upon Mike Teavee and his father and the despicable gum-chewing girl and her mother. He had to admit...if Wonka noticed the obvious flaws in the other four children, he managed to hide his disgust pretty well.
Finally, his turn came. It felt rather strange to approach someone he had long regarded as a genius of equal or greater talent. And as far as candymaking was concerned, Wonka was undoubtedly his superior. He held out the Golden Ticket with one hand, the other stretched out for a handshake. "Connor Lafferty," he said, his tone fitting for a gentleman. Wonka smiled, clasping the boy's hand in both of his. "Ah, you must be the late finder! Lucky you! I was afraid no one would have found the fifth one in time, but I suppose I was wrong! Good to have you! He turned to look at Butler, a flicker of bewilderment passing over him for the briefest instant. "And this must be..."
"My uncle," Artemis said. "Patrick Lafferty."
Wonka became all smiles again. "Of course, of course! I can see the family resemblance!"
Was that sarcasm? Artemis wondered. But he didn't have long to think about it, because Wonka was ushering the group of visitors toward the factory doors.
"Here we are!" cried Mr. Wonka, trotting along in front of the group. "Through this big red door, please. That's right! Nice and warm inside! I have to keep it warm because of my workers. They are used to an extremely hot climate! They couldn't possibly stand the cold. They'd perish if they went outdoors in this weather!"
"Who are the workers?" Mike Teavee asked.
"Obviously people from a hot climate," Artemis replied, eliciting an amused look from Wonka.
"That's the spirit! Now, through these doors please. Thank you, thank you. Let's keep moving!" he led them down a long corridor, so wide that a car could have driven through it. The walls were pale pink, and the lighting was soft and pleasant.
"How quaint," Artemis commented, strangely pleased by all the things he was seeing and smelling. Scents of all kinds were wafting through the hall, and he could make out specific aromas like coffee and cream and sugar and mint and lemon and coconut, but the most overpowering of all was the smell of rich melted chocolate! And far away in the distance, from the heart of the great factory, came a muffled roar of energy as though some monstrous gigantic machine was spinning its wheels at breakneck speed.
"Now this, my dear children," Mr. Wonka said loudly to be heard above the distant roar, "is the main corridor. There are some pegs here to hang your coats on...yes, those. We will come back to get them on the way out. Now, this way. Follow me!" He trotted quickly down the hall with the tails of his velvet coat flapping behind him, and the visitors hurried after him. Not all of them were in shape, however, specifically the Gloops, and Mrs. Gloop in particular was huffing and snorting like a constipated rhinoceros as she struggled to keep up the pace. Mr. Wonka was oblivious in his excitement; without glancing behind to make sure the party was following, he trotted briskly through a maze of corridors. The place was like a giant rabbit warren, with passages leading in every direction. Butler kept a hand on Artemis' shoulder the whole time. "The last thing you would want would be to get lost in here," he said lowly so that only Artemis could hear.
"Notice how all the passages are leading downward!" called out Mr. Wonka. "We are now going underground! All my important rooms are deep down below the surface! There wouldn't be nearly enough room for them on the top!"
"Ingenious," Artemis marveled to himself. "Perhaps we could do the same beneath Fowl Manor."
Suddenly, after what seemed like a long time of wandering deeper and deeper underground, Mr. Wonka stopped. Before him was a shiny metal door. Everyone gathered round. On the door, in bold black letters, it said: THE CHOCOLATE ROOM
What Happened in the Chocolate Room
"This is the nerve centre of my factory! Mr. Wonka said proudly, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket and slipping one into the keyhole of the door. "It's the heart of my business! And it is beautiful! I insist upon my rooms being beautiful! I can't abide ugliness in factories!"
Artemis caught the candymaker stealing a glance at Augustus...or had it been his imagination? No matter. The lock clicked open, the door swinging inward. Wonka was bubbling with excitement. "Do be careful, my dear children! Don't lose your heads! Don't get overexcited! Keep very, very calm!"
It was a good thing he warned them, because the sight that awaited them was mind-boggling in itself.
It was an amazing sight: they were looking down upon a lovely valley. Green meadows lay on either side of the valley, and along the bottom of it there flowed a great brown river. Even more spectacular was the tremendous waterfall crashing away at the midpoint of the river—a steep cliff over which the water curled and rolled in a solid sheet, and then went pouring down into a boiling, churning whirlpool of froth and spray. Below the waterfall, a whole mass of enormous glass pipes were dangling down into the river from somewhere high in the ceiling. They were enormous, at least three feet in diameter, and there must've been a dozen of them sucking steadily at the brown muddy water from the river and carrying it to who-knew-where. And because they were made of glass, you could see the liquid flowing and bubbling along inside them. Graceful trees and bushes were growing daintily along the river-banks, along with numerous bushes and flowering plants and vines. In the meadows there were thousands of buttercups.
"Every drop of the river is hot melted chocolate," Wonka said, much to the surprise of his guests. "The finest quality, of course," he added. "In fact, there's enough chocolate to fill every bathtub in the whole country! And the swimming pools as well!" He pointed to the pipes, a smile twitching at his lips. "Those pipes suck up the chocolate and carry it away to all the other rooms of the factory! Ten thousand gallons...every hour!"
"Brilliant," Artemis managed to say, and he really meant it. Wonka beamed at him. "Maybe so, but the waterfall is most important! It mixes up my chocolate! Churns it up, makes it light and frothy! But it's the only way to do it just right! The only way!" He walked on, gesturing to the plants and trees as the others walked behind him.
"Do you like my trees? And my lovely bushes? How about my grass? Please try a blade, please do. It's do delectable, so good looking..."
"You can eat the grass?" asked a dumbfounded Augustus Gloop. He looked down, a greedy look in his eye.
"Of course you can!" Wonka cried. "Everything in this room is eatable! Save for me, and you, of course. But other than that, everything is eatable! Go ahead—try something!"
Everyone stooped and plucked a blade of grass, a leaf or fruit from a tree. Augustus Gloop appeared to be having a hard time deciding what he should gorge on first. Artemis put on his best smile and walked up to him. "Hey, Augustus," he said casually. The fat boy gave him a confused look. "Ja?"
"Trinken sie vom fluss." He said this in perfect German, and for a moment Augustus gave him a stupid look, as if he could hardly believe this stranger had spoken to him in his mother tongue. Artemis repeated slowly. "Trinken sie vom fluss."
Drink from the river.
Augustus threw a look toward the chocolate river, understanding the suggestion. Greed returned to his eyes, and he lumbered off toward the riverbank while Artemis returned to where the others stood, looking around casually as if nothing had happened. He opened his mouth to say something to Butler, who was looking around in both wonder and suspicion, but he was interrupted by a shrill shriek of excitement from Veruca Salt, who was standing with her father near the riverbank. She was pointing frantically to the other side of the river. "Look! Look over there!" She screamed. "What is it? It's a little person! Down there by the waterfall!"
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked in the direction she was pointing, though Artemis rolled his eyes before turning around. His scepticism was replaced by curiosity, because there really was a little man, gathering candy-fruits by the waterfall!
"Do you see that Butler?"
The manservant nodded.
The others went on exclaiming the oddness of the little man, growing wild with excitement as more of them appeared seemingly from nowhere.
"What are they doing?"
"Where do they come from?"
"No higher than my knee!"
The tiny men-they were no larger than medium-sized dolls-had stopped what they were doing and were now staring back across the river at the visitors. One of them pointed towards the children, and then he whispered something to the others with him, and they all burst into peals of laughter.
Across the river, Butler tensed. He sensed something was amiss, but he didn't know what it was.
"They can't be real people," Mike Teavee said critically. Wonka gave him an irritated look.
"Of course they're real people! They're Oompa-loompas!"
"Oompa-loompas?" everyone said at once.
"Imported directly from Loompaland," said Mr. Wonka proudly.
"Makes me wonder how he managed to smuggle them past immigration," Artemis murmured to Butler.
"There's no such place," Mr. Teavee said, eying the candymaker as if he were mad.
Mr. Wonka raised his hands in placation. "My dear sir, but..."
"Mr. Wonka," cried Mr. Teavee, "I happen to be a teacher of high school geography, and I'm here to tell you..."
"Then you should know all about it!" Mr. Wonka exclaimed. "And oh, what a terrible country it is! Nothing but thick jungles infested with the most terrible beasts imaginable-hornswogglers and snozzwangers, and those terrible wicked whangdoodles. A whangdoodle would eat ten Oompa-loompas for breakfast and come galloping back for a second helping. When I went there, I found the little Oompa-loompas living in tree-houses to escape the terrible beasts below. And they were pretty much starving to death, because all they had to eat were these disgusting caterpillars that tasted revolting. There was one thing they craved after in particular...and that was: the cacao bean. But cacao beans did not grow particularly well in Loompaland; an Oompa-loompa was lucky if he could find three or four cacao beans a year." he paused, raising a finger to emphasize. "Cocoa beans happen to be the very thing from which chocolate is made, so I offered to bring the Oompa-loompas here to work in my factory. They would be safe from the terrible beasts of their country, and I would pay them in cacao beans and candy. They accepted and work for me now." He smiled mysteriously. "They are such wonderful workers...but I must warn you, they are rather mischievous! Always playing jokes..."
"Daddy," Veruca Salt said suddenly, "I want an Oompa-loompa!"
"All right sweetheart," Mr. Salt said soothingly, I'll get you one before the day is out. We shouldn't interrupt Mr. Wonka."
"But I want one now!"
"Augustus!" Mrs. Gloop's voice rang out over the sound of the waterfall crashing down, and everyone looked over to see her rushing toward Augustus, who was drinking hot melted chocolate from the river. "Augustus, that is not a good thing to do!"
When Mr. Wonka turned around and saw what Augustus was doing, he cried out in alarm. "Augustus, stop! You are dirtying my chocolate!"
"Augustus," Mrs. Gloop continued, "Did you hear what Mr. Wonka said? You must come away at once!"
But the impetuous boy was oblivious to all but the desire of his greed, and he continued to scoop the chocolate from the river, unaware that he was slipping. It was inevitable; Augustus leaned too far out, and he fell into the chocolate river with a shriek and a splash of molten chocolatey goodness. He clawed his way to the surface, sputtering and bawling.
"You must do something!" Mrs. Gloop cried to Mr. Wonka entreatingly. "He cannot swim!"
"There's no better time to learn," Mr. Wonka replied.
Artemis thought he detected a hint of spite, but he could not be sure for the commotion that Mrs. Gloop was making.
"Dive in and save him!" she said to Mr. Salt, who only gave her an incredulous look. "Don't be daft woman, I'm wearing my best suit!"
Augustus, meanwhile, was able to stay afloat, for liquid chocolate is denser than water, but in his panic he thought he would be pulled under. His frantic splashing, however, only brought him closer and closer to the sucking glass pipes, and before anyone actually made a move to save him, he was pulled under the surface and was sucked into the pipe. Everyone looked on in horror, though Artemis found it grimly amusing.
Mrs. Gloop was hysterical now, waving her purse about. "Call the fire brigade! Do something!"
But she froze when she heard the sound of a drum, and the Oompa-loompas across the river began to sing.
About halfway through the chorus, Augustus, who had been stuck in the glass pipe, had been conveniently unstuck and rocketed upward to goodness who-knew-where. Mrs. Gloop watched, stricken, but she was unable to get Mr. Wonka's attention until after the Oompa-loompas' song was over.
"He's gone!" she shrieked. "He'll be made into marshmallows at any minute!"
"Nonsense!" Wonka cried. "Impossible!"
"Why?"
"Two reasons." he held up two gloved fingers, counting them off. "One, marshmallows aren't made of chocolate! They are made up of coconut extracts and soybean oil and sugars and all sorts of things that make them fluffy and delicious! Second, that pipe doesn't go anywhere near the Marshmallow Room!"
"Then where does it go?" Mrs. Gloop demanded.
"That pipe," Wonka said, "Happens to go to the room where I make the most delightful strawberry flavored, chocolate covered fudge!"
Mrs. Gloop took a moment to process this. "Then my son...will be made into strawberry flavored, chocolate covered fudge, and they'll be selling him by the pound, all around the world?"
Mr. Wonka giggled. "Don't be absurd! Could you imagine, Augustus-flavored, chocolate covered Gloop? The taste would be terrible! No one would buy it."
His calm reply merely served to infuriate the woman, who prepared for a fearsome retort. But Mr. Wonka called over an Oompa-loompa. "I want you to take Mrs. Gloop to the Fudge Room," he said seriously. "Help her find her son. He is probably in the chocolate mixing barrel, so be sure to find him before the hopper pours into the boiler."
The Oompa-loompa giggled in reply, then motioned to Mrs. Gloop. The hysterical woman tore her angry glare from Mr. Wonka and followed after the tiny man.
Mr. Wonka waved. "Good-bye, Mrs. Gloop! Farewell! Across the desert lies the Promised Land! You'll see!"
Mr. Salt pulled his daughter closer to him, looking at Mr. Wonka suspiciously. "I must say, that all seemed rather rehearsed."
"What? Oh, you mean the Oompa-loompas?" Mr. Wonka waved dismissively. "You mustn't believe anything they say…it's all one big joke to them! But I assure you Augustus is fine, perfectly fine."