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.

Thanks to: Harry Artemis Jackson and The QAS for input and reviewal, and doublethanks to The QAS for catching Artemis' age error. I've not had the privilege of reading the AF books in order, so details about ages are sometimes confused. Keep the comments coming!

Author's Notes:
I apologise in advance if Artemis' attitude is not up to par...the idea is that he's trying to seem appealing to Willy Wonka, even to the point of suppressing his own bold behavior. As he substitutes for Charlie Bucket, he is supposed to seem good and good-hearted in comparison to the other four children, rather than bratty or obnoxious.

It should also be noted that much of the story is taken directly from the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I've only adapted it with Artemis Fowl characters and parts from the films.

If I was conducting a tour of my factory, I wouldn't tell people what stuff is really made of.

Square Candies that Look Round

"Well, well, well, said a smiling Mr. Wonka, walking briskly ahead of everyone else, "two naughty, nasty little children gone. Three good little children left. I do hope you all behave for the rest of the tour. I should hate to lose anyone else."

The three remaining children—Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, and Artemis Fowl (alias Connor Lafferty)—together with the three remaining grownups, followed after him. Mr. Wonka was saying, "No time left for messing about! We'll never get anywhere t the rate we've been going!" And on he rushed, down the endless multicolored corridors, with his top-hat perched on his head and his plum-colored velvet coattails flying out behind him like a flag in the wind. They passed a door in the wall. "No time to go in!" he shouted. "Press on!"

They passed another door, then another and another. There were doors every twenty paces or so along the corridor now, and they all had something written on them in English and a language that none of them understood.

Artemis figured it was for the Oompa-loompas. Loompanese or something of that sort.

They rushed past countless more doors, until finally they came upon one marked SQUARE CANDIES THAT LOOK ROUND.

"Wait!" cried Mr. Wonka, skidding to a halt. He stopped so fast that Mr. Salt almost collided with him.

Mr. Wonka flashed him a smile, as if in forgiveness, then addressed everyone. "I am very proud of my Square Candies that Look Round. Take a minute to catch your breaths, and we'll take a peek."

Everybody stopped and crowded around the door. The top half was made of glass. Looking in, they could see a long table, and on the table there were rows and rows of small white square-shaped candies. The candies looked very much like sugar cubes, except that each of they had a funny little pink face painted on one side. At the opposite end of the table, a number of Oompa-loompas were busily painting more faces on more candies.

"There you are!" said Mr. Wonka with a bright smile. "Square candies that look round!"

"They don't look round to me," said Mike Teavee.

"They look square," said Veruca Salt.

"I never said they weren't," said Mr. Wonka."

"You said they were round!" exclaimed Veruca Salt. "But they look square!"

"Now see here," Mr. Wonka said firmly. "These candies are square. But they look round."

"No they don't!"

"There are other ways to look round," Artemis said coldly.

"Exactly!" said Mr. Wonka, flashing Artemis a pleased, toothy grin.

"Don't pay any attention to him," said Mr. Salt. "He's lying to you!"

Mr. Wonka huffed. "I'll prove it to you!" he pulled out a key from his coat pocket and put it in the keyhole. "Watch this!" he opened the door, and suddenly, all the rows and rows of little square candies looked round to see who was coming in. The tiny faces actually turned toward the door and stared unblinkingly at Mr. Wonka.

"There you are!" he cried triumphantly. "They are most definitely square candies that look round!"

"He's right," Mr. Teavee murmured.

Mr. Salt clenched his jaw in embarrassment.

Veruca Salt sulked.

"Come along!" said Mr. Wonka, starting off down the corridor again. "Off we go! We mustn't dawdle!"

What Happened in the Nut Room

They didn't stop until they came to a door marked THE NUT ROOM. Here Mr. Wonka halted, his gaze settling knowingly on Mr. Salt. "We can stop here for a moment to rest, and have a peek through the glass panel of this door. I am very proud of my Nut Room."

Mr. Salt nodded. "It is a good business, one that I myself am familiar with. You see, Mr. Wonka, I too am in the nut business. What machine do you use to do your sorting?"

"Machine?" Mr. Wonka echoed questioningly. "We don't use machines for simple things like nuts."
"Then what do you use?"

Mr. Wonka gestured to the door. "See for yourself."

Everyone crowded around the door to have a look. It was an amazing sight. One hundred squirrels were seated upon high stools around a large table. On the table were mounds and mounds of walnuts, and the squirrels were all working away like mad, shelling the walnuts at a tremendous speed.

"These squirrels," Mr. Wonka explained, "are trained to get the nuts out of walnuts."

"Why use squirrels?" Mr. Salt asked. "Why not use Oompa-loompas?"

"Because," Mr. Wonka said, his tone condescending, "Oompa-loompas can't get walnuts out of walnut shells in one piece. They always break them in two. Only squirrels can get walnuts whole out of walnut shells every time. And because I insist on only using whole walnuts in my factory, I must use squirrels to do the job. And the best part is, they can tell the difference between a good nut and a bad one without even having to open it! See how they tap it with their little knuckles? If it's bad, it makes a hollow sound, and they throw it down the garbage chute. There! That squirrel nearest us has found a bad one!"

They watched the little squirrel as he tapped the walnut shell with his knuckles. He cocked his head to one side, listening intently, then suddenly threw the nut over his shoulder into a large hole in the floor.

Artemis noted the delighted expression in the eyes of Veruca Salt and stepped closer to her, despite his immense dislike for her. "Those squirrels are pretty amazing," he said, forcing a pleasnt tone. And it was true, but it was only a tool to get Veruca talking.

"Oh yes," she said.

"Reminds me of a performing bear I saw in Russia, only squirrels are much smaller, and don't have the teeth of a bear. I am sure a squirrel would make an interesting pet…especially a trained one."

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Veruca snapped, keeping her voice low so that she would not be heard over Mr. Wonka, who was explaining something about the squirrels' eating habits. "I saw you talking to the other two children before they got into trouble. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Not at all," he lied. "I was merely stating the fact that a trained squirrel could be a good, useful pet. It's not as if they could attack you. A squirrel is smaller than a bear, less threatening than a river of chocolate or a piece of defective chewing gum." He smiled, a bit tauntingly. "Forget I said anything. I don't think your father would let you have one anyway."

Veruca glared at him. "We'll see about that."

"Daddy," she said suddenly, "I want one of those squirrels. Get me one of those squirrels!"

Mr. Salt gave her a tired look. "Veruca, you already have many marvelous pets."

"But Daddy, all I've got at home is two dogs and four cats and six bunny rabbits and two parakeets and three canaries and a green parrot and a turtle and a bowl of goldfish and a cage of white mice and a silly old hamster. I want a squirrel!"

"Daddy will get you a squirrel just as soon as he can…"

"But not just any squirrel! I want a trained squirrel!"

Mr. Salt sighed. "Very well." He stepped forward. "Mr. Wonka," he said importantly, taking out a wallet full of money, "how much do you want for one of those squirrels?"

"They're not for sale," Mr. Wonka said.

"Name your price," Mr. Salt insisted. "I'm sure I can meet any sum that you…"

"I'm sorry," Mr. Wonka said firmly, "but they're not for sale. She can't have one."

Veruca's expression darkened with anger. "Who says I can't? I'm going to get me a squirrel this very minute!"

"Don't" Mr. Wonka said quickly, but Veruca ignored him and pushed her way into the room. The moment the door had opened, a hundred squirrels stopped what they were doing and turned their heads and stared at her with small black beady eyes. Veruca Salt stopped also, and stared back at them. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

Veruca scanned the rows of squirrels, and her gaze fell upon a pretty little one sitting near her at the end of the table. The squirrel looked back at her questioningly, its head tilted slightly.

"All right," Veruca said. "I'll have you!" She reached out her hands to grab the squirrel…but as she did so…in that first split second as her hands started to go forward, there was a sudden flash of movement in the room, like a flash of brown lighting, and every single squirrel in the room launched themselves off their stools and raced toward her. Twenty-five of them caught hold of her right arm. Twenty-five caught hold of her left arm. Twenty-five caught hold of her right leg. Twenty-four caught hold of her left leg. And the one remaining squirrel (presumably the leader of them all) climbed up on to her shoulder and started knocking on the wretched girl's head with his little knuckles.

"Save her!" Mr. Salt was shouting frantically. "Veruca! What are they doing to her?"

"They're testing to see if she's a bad nut," Mr. Wonka said.

The squirrel cocked its head, listening to the sound Veruca's head made. It gave a signal, and the other squirrels started dragging Veruca toward the yawning mouth of the garbage chute.

"Oh my," Mr. Wonka said. "She is a bad nut after all."

"Where are they taking her?" shouted Mr. Salt.

"Where all the bad nuts go," Mr. Wonka said. "to the garbage chute. Weren't you paying attention at all when I was talking about it?"

"Where does the chute go?"

"To the incinerator," Mr. Wonka said as if it were no big deal.

Mr. Salt thought otherwise. "Now you see here, Mr. Wonka, I admit my daughter may have acted badly, but she doesn't deserve to be sizzled to a crisp! I'll have the health inspectors after you for this!"

"My dear sir," Mr. Wonka said calmly, straightening Mr. Salt's tie, "she won't be burned or hurt, I can assure you. In fact, she may not have gone down the chute at all. She may be stuck, just below the opening. Garbage gets stuck there all the time, you know. Causes a nasty backup." He opened the door and gestured for Mr. Salt to enter the room. "All you have to do is reach into the hole, and pull her back up!" he demonstrated with an arm. Mr. Salt nodded gravely and walked over to the hole. He leaned over to look into it. "Veruca? Are you down there? I'm coming to pull you up! Veruca?"

Mr. Wonka shook his head. "Oh dear…"

A squirrel rushed forward and ricocheted off Mr. Salt's ample rear end, pushing him forward. He fell into the garbage chute with a holler, but the sound was drowned out by another song number by the Oompa-loompas. When the song came to a close, the Oompa-loompas left and the squirrels returned to their workstations.

"And that," Mr. Wonka said while closing the door, "is why you don't mess with squirrels while they're on duty."