Annotation

ThisbookisfantasticitisaboutaverypoorboynamedCharlieBucket.Healwaysgoestoschoolwithoutajacketbecausetheydon’thavemoneytobuyCharliethings.Thesettingofthebookisanunnamedcity;smallwoodenhouseontheedgeofagreatcity,afabled chocolate factory. The conflict is five children who have found golden ticketscompetetoseewhowilltakeoverMr.Wonka’schocolatefactory.ItallstartedwhenthenewpaperannouncesthattheWonkachocolatefactorywillhidefivegoldenticketsintheWonkachocolatebars.Charliedesperatelyhopeshewillfindagoldenticket.Theproblemis thateachyearhegetsachocolateonhisbirthday,andhedoesn’thavemoneytobuyone.Charliefatherloseshisjobandthepoorfamilyisonbrinkofstarvation.Charliefindsadollar bill on the street, andbefore he tells hismother, he goes to buy two chocolatebars.Oneofthebarscontainsthefifthgoldenticket.CharlieandhisGrandpaJoegototheWonkaChocolateFactory.When the are finally thereMr.Wonka tells everybody to becareful,andnottouchanythingfromthefactory.ThenAugustusGloopfallsintothehotchocolate river while attempting to drink it, and gets sucked up by one of the pipes.VerucaSaltisdeterminedtobeabadnutbynutjudgingsquirrelswhothrowheroutwiththetrash.VioletBeauregardegrabsanexperimentalpieceofgumandchewherselfintoagiant blueberry. She is removed from the factory.MikeTeavee shrinks himself and hisfatherhastocarryhimoutinhisbreastpocket.SoCharlieistheonlyonethatisleftinthefactory. Mr. Wonka tries to find a person that would keep the chocolate factory. Mr.Wonka decided to give away his factory because he is too old. Then he decides thatCharlieistheonewhowillrunthefactoryexactlythewayhehasalwaysrunit.FinallyMr.Wonkacongrarulateshimforwinningtheentirefactoryforhimselfandhisfamily.

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Therearefivechildreninthisbook:

AUGUSTUSGLOOPAgreedyboy

VERUCASALTAgirlwhoisspoiledbyherparents

VIOLETBEAUREGARDEAgirlwhochewsgumalldaylong

MIKETEAVEEAboywhodoesnothingbutwatchtelevision

And

CHARLIEBUCKETThehero

1HereComesCharlie

ThesetwoveryoldpeoplearethefatherandmotherofMrBucket.TheirnamesareGrandpaJoeandGrandmaJosephine.

AndthesetwoveryoldpeoplearethefatherandmotherofMrsBucket.TheirnamesareGrandpaGeorgeandGrandmaGeorgina.

ThisisMrBucket.ThisisMrsBucket.

MrandMrsBuckethaveasmallboywhosenameisCharlie.

ThisisCharlie.

Howd’youdo?Andhowd’youdo?Andhowd’youdoagain?Heispleasedtomeetyou.

Thewholeofthisfamily—thesixgrown-ups(countthem)andlittleCharlieBucket—livetogetherinasmallwoodenhouseontheedgeofagreattown.

Thehousewasn’t nearly large enough for somanypeople, and lifewas extremelyuncomfortableforthemall.Therewereonlytworoomsintheplacealtogether,andtherewasonlyonebed.Thebedwasgiventothefouroldgrandparentsbecausetheyweresooldandtired.Theyweresotired,theynevergotoutofit.

Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine on this side, Grandpa George and GrandmaGeorginaonthisside.

MrandMrsBucketandlittleCharlieBucketsleptintheotherroom,uponmattressesonthefloor.

Inthesummertime,thiswasn’ttoobad,butinthewinter,freezingcolddraughtsblewacrossthefloorallnightlong,anditwasawful.

Therewasn’tanyquestionofthembeingabletobuyabetterhouse—orevenonemorebedtosleepin.Theywerefartoopoorforthat.

MrBucketwastheonlypersoninthefamilywithajob.Heworkedinatoothpastefactory,wherehesatalldaylongatabenchandscrewedthelittlecapsontothetopsofthe tubes of toothpaste after the tubes had been filled. But a toothpaste cap-screwer isneverpaidverymuchmoney,andpoorMrBucket,howeverhardheworked,andhoweverfasthescrewedonthecaps,wasneverabletomakeenoughtobuyonehalfofthethingsthat so largea familyneeded.Therewasn’tevenenoughmoney tobuyproper food forthemall.Theonlymealstheycouldaffordwerebreadandmargarineforbreakfast,boiledpotatoesandcabbageforlunch,andcabbagesoupforsupper.Sundayswereabitbetter.They all looked forward to Sundays because then, although they had exactly the same,everyonewasallowedasecondhelping.

The Buckets, of course, didn’t starve, but every one of them — the two oldgrandfathers,thetwooldgrandmothers,Charlie’sfather,Charlie’smother,andespeciallylittleCharliehimself—wentaboutfrommorningtillnightwithahorribleemptyfeeling

intheirtummies.

Charlie felt itworstof all.Andalthoughhis father andmotheroftenwentwithouttheirownshareoflunchorsuppersothattheycouldgiveittohim,itstillwasn’tnearlyenoughforagrowingboy.Hedesperatelywantedsomethingmorefillingandsatisfyingthancabbageandcabbagesoup.Theonethinghelongedformorethananythingelsewas…CHOCOLATE.

Walkingtoschool in themornings,Charliecouldseegreatslabsofchocolatepileduphighintheshopwindows,andhewouldstopandstareandpresshisnoseagainsttheglass,hismouthwateringlikemad.Manytimesaday,hewouldseeotherchildrentakingbarsof creamychocolateoutof theirpockets andmunching themgreedily, and that, ofcourse,waspuretorture.

Only once a year, on his birthday, did Charlie Bucket ever get to taste a bit ofchocolate.Thewholefamilysaveduptheirmoneyforthatspecialoccasion,andwhenthegreatdayarrived,Charliewasalwayspresentedwithonesmallchocolatebartoeatallbyhimself.Andeachtimehereceivedit,onthosemarvellousbirthdaymornings,hewouldplaceitcarefullyinasmallwoodenboxthatheowned,andtreasureitasthoughitwereabarofsolidgold;andforthenextfewdays,hewouldallowhimselfonlytolookatit,butnevertotouchit.Thenatlast,whenhecouldstanditnolonger,hewouldpeelbackatinybit of the paperwrapping at one corner to expose a tiny bit of chocolate, and then hewould take a tiny nibble— just enough to allow the lovely sweet taste to spread outslowlyoverhistongue.Thenextday,hewouldtakeanothertinynibble,andsoon,andsoon.Andinthisway,Charliewouldmakehissixpennybarofbirthdaychocolatelasthimformorethanamonth.

ButIhaven’tyet toldyouabout theoneawful thingthat torturedlittleCharlie, theloverofchocolate,morethananythingelse.This thing,forhim,wasfar, farworse thanseeingslabsofchocolateintheshopwindowsorwatchingotherchildrenmunchingbarsofcreamychocolaterightinfrontofhim.Itwasthemostterribletorturingthingyoucouldimagine,anditwasthis:

Inthetownitself,actuallywithinsightofthehouseinwhichCharlielived,therewasanENORMOUSCHOCOLATEFACTORY!

Justimaginethat!

And it wasn’t simply an ordinary enormous chocolate factory, either. It was thelargestandmostfamousinthewholeworld!ItwasWONKA’SFACTORY,ownedbyamancalledMrWillyWonka,thegreatestinventorandmakerofchocolatesthattherehaseverbeen.

Andwhatatremendous,marvellousplaceitwas!Ithadhugeirongatesleadingintoit, and a highwall surrounding it, and smoke belching from its chimneys, and strangewhizzingsoundscomingfromdeepinsideit.Andoutsidethewalls,forhalfamilearoundineverydirection,theairwasscentedwiththeheavyrichsmellofmeltingchocolate!

Twiceaday,onhiswaytoandfromschool,littleCharlieBuckethadtowalkrightpast thegatesof the factory.Andevery timehewentby,hewouldbegin towalkvery,veryslowly,andhewouldholdhisnosehighin theairandtakelongdeepsniffsof the

gorgeouschocolateysmellallaroundhim.

Oh,howhelovedthatsmell!

Andoh,howhewishedhecouldgoinsidethefactoryandseewhatitwaslike!

2MrWillyWonka’sFactory

In the evenings, after he had finished his supper of watery cabbage soup, Charliealways

went into the room of his four grandparents to listen to their stories, and thenafterwardsto

saygoodnight.

Everyoneof theseoldpeoplewasoverninety.Theywere as shrivelledasprunes,andasbonyasskeletons,andthroughouttheday,untilCharliemadehisappearance,theylay huddled in their one bed, two at either end, with nightcaps on to keep their headswarm, dozing the time away with nothing to do. But as soon as they heard the dooropening, and heard Charlie’s voice saying, ‘Good evening, Grandpa Joe and GrandmaJosephine, and Grandpa George and Grandma Georgina,’ then all four of them wouldsuddenlysitup,andtheiroldwrinkledfaceswouldlightupwithsmilesofpleasure—andthetalkingwouldbegin.Fortheylovedthislittleboy.Hewastheonlybrightthingintheirlives, and his evening visits were something that they looked forward to all day long.Often,Charlie’smotherandfatherwouldcomeinaswell,andstandbythedoor,listeningtothestoriesthattheoldpeopletold;andthus,forperhapshalfanhoureverynight,thisroomwouldbecomeahappyplace,andthewholefamilywouldforgetthatitwashungryandpoor.

One evening,whenCharliewent in to seehis grandparents, he said to them, ‘Is itreallytruethatWonka’sChocolateFactoryisthebiggestintheworld?’

‘True?’criedallfourofthematonce.‘Ofcourseit’strue!Goodheavens,didn’tyouknowthat?It’saboutfiftytimesasbigasanyother!’

‘AndisMrWillyWonkareallythecleverestchocolatemakerintheworld?’

‘Mydearboy,’saidGrandpaJoe,raisinghimselfupalittlehigheronhispillow,‘MrWillyWonka is themost amazing, themost fantastic, themost extraordinary chocolatemakertheworldhaseverseen!Ithoughteverybodyknewthat!’

‘Iknewhewasfamous,GrandpaJoe,andIknewhewasveryclever…’

‘Clever!’cried theoldman. ‘He’smore than that!He’samagicianwithchocolate!Hecanmakeanything—anythinghewants!Isn’tthatafact,mydears?’

The other three old people nodded their heads slowly up and down, and said,‘Absolutelytrue.Justastrueascanbe.’

AndGrandpaJoesaid,‘YoumeantosayI’venevertoldyouaboutMrWillyWonkaandhisfactory?’

‘Never,’answeredlittleCharlie.

‘Goodheavensabove!Idon’tknowwhat’sthematterwithme!’

‘Willyoutellmenow,GrandpaJoe,please?’

‘Icertainlywill.Sitdownbesidemeonthebed,mydear,andlistencarefully.’

GrandpaJoewas theoldestof thefourgrandparents.Hewasninety-sixandahalf,and that is just about as old as anybody can be.Like all extremely old people, hewasdelicateandweak,andthroughoutthedayhespokeverylittle.Butintheevenings,whenCharlie, his belovedgrandson,was in the room,he seemed in somemarvellousway togrowquiteyoungagain.Allhistirednessfellawayfromhim,andhebecameaseagerandexcitedasayoungboy.

‘Oh,whatamanheis,thisMrWillyWonka!’criedGrandpaJoe.‘Didyouknow,forexample,thathehashimselfinventedmorethantwohundrednewkindsofchocolatebars,each with a different centre, each far sweeter and creamier and more delicious thananythingtheotherchocolatefactoriescanmake!’

‘Perfectlytrue!’criedGrandmaJosephine.‘Andhesendsthemtoallthefourcornersoftheearth!Isn’tthatso,GrandpaJoe?’

‘Itis,mydear,itis.Andtoallthekingsandpresidentsoftheworldaswell.Butitisn’t only chocolate bars that hemakes.Oh, dearme, no!He has some really fantasticinventionsuphissleeve,MrWillyWonkahas!Didyouknowthathe’sinventedawayofmakingchocolateicecreamsothatitstayscoldforhoursandhourswithoutbeingintherefrigerator?Youcanevenleaveitlyinginthesunallmorningonahotdayanditwon’tgorunny!’

‘Butthat’simpossible!’saidlittleCharlie,staringathisgrandfather.

‘Ofcourseit’simpossible!’criedGrandpaJoe.‘It’scompletelyabsurd!ButMrWillyWonkahasdoneit!’

‘Quiteright!’theothersagreed,noddingtheirheads.‘MrWonkahasdoneit.’

‘And then again,’Grandpa Joewent on speaking very slowly now so thatCharliewouldn’tmissaword,‘MrWillyWonkacanmakemarshmallowsthattasteofviolets,andrichcaramelsthatchangecoloureverytensecondsasyousuckthem,andlittlefeatherysweets thatmelt awaydeliciously themomentyouput thembetweenyour lips.He canmakechewing-gumthatneverlosesitstaste,andsugarballoonsthatyoucanblowuptoenormoussizesbeforeyoupopthemwithapinandgobblethemup.And,byamostsecretmethod,hecanmakelovelybluebirds’eggswithblackspotsonthem,andwhenyouputoneof these inyourmouth, itgraduallygetssmallerandsmalleruntilsuddenly there isnothingleftexceptatinylittlepinksugarybabybirdsittingonthetipofyourtongue.’

GrandpaJoepausedandranthepointofhistongueslowlyoverhislips.‘Itmakesmymouthwaterjustthinkingaboutit,’hesaid.

‘Mine,too,’saidlittleCharlie.‘Butpleasegoon.’

Whiletheyweretalking,MrandMrsBucket,Charlie’smotherandfather,hadcomequietlyintotheroom,andnowbothwerestandingjustinsidethedoor,listening.

‘TellCharlieaboutthatcrazyIndianprince,’saidGrandmaJosephine.‘He’dliketohearthat.’

‘You mean Prince Pondicherry?’ said Grandpa Joe, and he began chuckling with

laughter. ‘Completely dotty!’ said Grandpa George. ‘But very rich,’ said GrandmaGeorgina. ‘Whatdidhedo?’askedCharlieeagerly. ‘Listen,’ saidGrandpaJoe, ‘and I’lltellyou.’

3MrWonkaandtheIndianPrince

‘PrincePondicherrywrotealettertoMrWillyWonka,’saidGrandpaJoe,‘andaskedhimto

come all the way out to India and build him a colossal palace entirely out ofchocolate.’

‘DidMrWonkadoit,Grandpa?’

‘Hedid,indeed.Andwhatapalaceitwas!Ithadonehundredrooms,andeverythingwasmadeof either dark or light chocolate!The brickswere chocolate, and the cementholdingthemtogetherwaschocolate,andthewindowswerechocolate,andallthewallsandceilingsweremadeofchocolate,sowerethecarpetsandthepicturesandthefurnitureand the beds; and when you turned on the taps in the bathroom, hot chocolate camepouringout.

‘When it was all finished, Mr Wonka said to Prince Pondicherry, “I warn you,though,itwon’tlastverylong,soyou’dbetterstarteatingitrightaway.”

‘“Nonsense!” shouted the Prince. “I’m not going to eat my palace! I’m not evengoingtonibblethestaircaseorlickthewalls!I’mgoingtoliveinit!”

‘ButMrWonkawasright,ofcourse,becausesoonafterthis,therecameaveryhotdaywithaboilingsun,andthewholepalacebegantomelt,andthenitsankslowlytotheground,andthecrazyprince,whowasdozinginthelivingroomatthetime,wokeuptofindhimselfswimmingaroundinahugebrownstickylakeofchocolate.’

LittleCharliesatverystillontheedgeofthebed,staringathisgrandfather.Charlie’sfacewasbright,andhiseyeswerestretchedsowideyoucouldseethewhitesallaround.‘Isallthisreallytrue?’heasked.‘Orareyoupullingmyleg?’

‘It’s true!’criedallfourof theoldpeopleatonce.‘Ofcourseit’s true!Askanyoneyoulike!’

‘And I’ll tellyousomethingelse that’s true,’ saidGrandpaJoe,andnowhe leanedcloser to Charlie, and lowered his voice to a soft, secret whisper. ‘Nobody… ever…comes…out!’

‘Outofwhere?’askedCharlie.

‘And…nobody…ever…goes…in!’

‘Inwhere?’criedCharlie.

‘Wonka’sfactory,ofcourse!’

‘Grandpa,whatdoyoumean?’

‘Imeanworkers,Charlie.’

‘Workers?’

‘Allfactories,’saidGrandpaJoe,‘haveworkersstreaminginandoutofthegatesinthemorningsandevenings—exceptWonka’s!Haveyoueverseenasinglepersongoingintothatplace—orcomingout?’

LittleCharlielookedslowlyaroundateachofthefouroldfaces,oneaftertheother,andtheyalllookedbackathim.Theywerefriendlysmilingfaces,buttheywerealsoquiteserious.Therewasnosignofjokingorleg-pullingonanyofthem.

‘Well?Haveyou?’askedGrandpaJoe.

‘I…Ireallydon’tknow,Grandpa,’Charliestammered. ‘WheneverIwalkpast thefactory,thegatesseemtobeclosed.’

‘Exactly!’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘Buttheremustbepeopleworkingthere…’

‘Notpeople,Charlie.Notordinarypeople,anyway.’

‘Thenwho?’criedCharlie.

‘Ah-ha…That’sit,yousee…That’sanotherofMrWillyWonka’sclevernesses.’

‘Charlie,dear,’MrsBucketcalledoutfromwhereshewasstandingbythedoor,‘it’stimeforbed.That’senoughfortonight.’

‘But,Mother,Imusthear…’

‘Tomorrow,mydarling…’

‘That’sright,’saidGrandpaJoe,‘I’lltellyoutherestofittomorrowevening.’

4TheSecretWorkers

Thenextevening,GrandpaJoewentonwithhisstory.

‘Yousee,Charlie,’hesaid,‘notsoverylongagothereusedtobethousandsofpeopleworking inMrWillyWonka’sfactory.Thenoneday,allofasudden,MrWonkahad toaskeverysingleoneofthemtoleave,togohome,nevertocomeback.’

‘Butwhy?’askedCharlie.‘Becauseofspies.’‘Spies?’

‘Yes. All the other chocolate makers, you see, had begun to grow jealous of thewonderfulsweetsthatMrWonkawasmaking,andtheystartedsendinginspiestostealhissecret recipes. The spies took jobs in the Wonka factory, pretending that they wereordinaryworkers,andwhile theywere there,eachoneof themfoundoutexactlyhowacertainspecialthingwasmade.’

‘Anddidtheygobacktotheirownfactoriesandtell?’askedCharlie.

‘Theymust have,’ answeredGrandpa Joe, ‘because soon after that, Fickelgruber’sfactorystartedmakinganicecreamthatwouldnevermelt,eveninthehottestsun.ThenMrProdnose’sfactorycameoutwithachewing-gumthatneverlostitsflavourhowevermuchyouchewedit.AndthenMrSlugworth’sfactorybeganmakingsugarballoonsthatyoucouldblowuptohugesizesbeforeyoupoppedthemwithapinandgobbledthemup.Andsoon,andsoon.AndMrWillyWonkatorehisbeardandshouted,“Thisisterrible!Ishallberuined!Therearespieseverywhere!Ishallhavetoclosethefactory!”’

‘Buthedidn’tdothat!’Charliesaid.

‘Oh,yeshedid.Hetoldalltheworkersthathewassorry,buttheywouldhavetogohome. Then, he shut the main gates and fastened them with a chain. And suddenly,Wonka’s giant chocolate factory became silent and deserted. The chimneys stoppedsmoking, the machines stopped whirring, and from then on, not a single chocolate orsweetwasmade.Notasoulwentinorout,andevenMrWillyWonkahimselfdisappearedcompletely.

‘Monthsandmonthswentby,’GrandpaJoewenton,‘butstillthefactoryremainedclosed. And everybody said, “Poor Mr Wonka. He was so nice. And he made suchmarvellousthings.Buthe’sfinishednow.It’sallover.”

‘Thensomethingastonishinghappened.Oneday,earlyinthemorning,thincolumnsofwhitesmokewereseentobecomingoutofthetopsofthetallchimneysofthefactory!Peopleinthetownstoppedandstared.“What’sgoingon?”theycried.“Someone’slitthefurnaces!MrWonkamustbeopeningupagain!”Theyrantothegates,expectingtoseethemwideopenandMrWonkastandingtheretowelcomehisworkersback.

‘Butno!Thegreatirongateswerestilllockedandchainedassecurelyasever,andMrWonkawasnowheretobeseen.

‘“But the factory is working!” the people shouted. “Listen! You can hear themachines!They’reallwhirringagain!Andyoucansmellthesmellofmeltingchocolate

intheair!”’

Grandpa Joe leaned forwardand laida longbony fingeronCharlie’sknee, andhesaidsoftly,‘Butmostmysteriousofall,Charlie,weretheshadowsinthewindowsofthefactory.Thepeoplestandingon thestreetoutsidecouldseesmalldarkshadowsmovingaboutbehindthefrostedglasswindows.’

‘Shadowsofwhom?’saidCharliequickly.

‘That’sexactlywhateverybodyelsewantedtoknow.

“Theplaceisfullofworkers!”thepeopleshouted.“Butnobody’sgonein!Thegatesarelocked!It’scrazy!Nobodyevercomesout,either!”

‘But therewasnoquestionatall,’ saidGrandpaJoe, ‘that the factorywas running.Andit’sgoneonrunningeversince,fortheselasttenyears.What’smore,thechocolatesand sweets it’s been turningouthavebecomemore fantastic anddelicious all the time.AndofcoursenowwhenMrWonkainventssomenewandwonderfulsweet,neitherMrFickelgrubernorMrProdnosenorMrSlugworthnoranybodyelseisabletocopyit.Nospiescangointothefactorytofindouthowitismade.’

‘ButGrandpa,who,’criedCharlie,‘whoisMrWonkausingtodoalltheworkinthefactory?’

‘Nobodyknows,Charlie.’

‘Butthat’sabsurd!Hasn’tsomeoneaskedMrWonka?’

‘Nobodyseeshimanymore.Henevercomesout.Theonlythingsthatcomeoutofthat place are chocolates and sweets.They comeout through a special trap door in thewall,allpackedandaddressed,andtheyarepickedupeverydaybyPostOfficetrucks.’

‘ButGrandpa,whatsortofpeoplearetheythatworkinthere?’

‘Mydearboy,’saidGrandpaJoe,‘thatisoneofthegreatmysteriesofthechocolate-making world. We know only one thing about them. They are very small. The faintshadows that sometimes appear behind the windows, especially late at night when thelightsareon,arethoseoftinypeople,peoplenotallerthanmyknee…’

‘Therearen’tanysuchpeople,’Charliesaid.

Just then,MrBucket,Charlie’s father,came into the room.Hewashomefrom thetoothpastefactory,andhewaswavinganeveningnewspaperratherexcitedly.‘Haveyouheardthenews?’hecried.Heheldupthepapersothattheycouldseethehugeheadline.Theheadlinesaid:

WONKAFACTORYTOBEOPENEDATLASTTOLUCKYFEW

5TheGoldenTickets

‘Youmeanpeopleareactuallygoing tobeallowed togo inside the factory?’criedGrandpa

Joe.‘Readuswhatitsays—quickly!’

‘Allright,’saidMrBucket,smoothingoutthenewspaper.‘Listen.’

EveningBulletin

MrWillyWonka, the confectionery genius whom nobody has seen for the last tenyears,sentoutthefollowingnoticetoday:

I,WillyWonka, have decided to allow five children— just five,mind you, and nomore—tovisitmyfactorythisyear.Theseluckyfivewillbeshownaroundpersonallybyme,andtheywillbeallowedtoseeallthesecretsandthemagicofmyfactory.Then,attheendofthetour,asaspecialpresent,allofthemwillbegivenenoughchocolatesandsweets to last themfor therestof their lives!Sowatchout for theGoldenTickets!FiveGolden Tickets have been printed on golden paper, and these fiveGolden Tickets havebeenhiddenunderneaththeordinarywrappingpaperoffiveordinarybarsofchocolate.Thesefivechocolatebarsmaybeanywhere—inanyshopinanystreetinanytowninanycountry in theworld—uponany counterwhereWonka’s Sweets are sold.And the fiveluckyfindersofthesefiveGoldenTicketsaretheonlyoneswhowillbeallowedtovisitmyfactoryandseewhatit’slikenowinside!Goodlucktoyouall,andhappyhunting!

(SignedWillyWonka.)

‘Theman’sdotty!’mutteredGrandmaJosephine.

‘He’sbrilliant!’criedGrandpaJoe.‘He’samagician!Justimaginewhatwillhappennow! The whole world will be searching for those Golden Tickets! Everyone will bebuyingWonka’s chocolate bars in the hope of finding one! He’ll sell more than everbefore!Oh,howexcitingitwouldbetofindone!’

‘Andallthechocolateandsweetsthatyoucouldeatfortherestofyourlife—free!’saidGrandpaGeorge.‘Justimaginethat!’

‘They’dhavetodelivertheminatruck!’saidGrandmaGeorgina.‘Itmakesmequiteilltothinkofit,’saidGrandmaJosephine.

‘Nonsense!’criedGrandpaJoe.‘Wouldn’titbesomething,Charlie,toopenabarofchocolateandseeaGoldenTicketglisteninginside!’

‘Itcertainlywould,Grandpa.But there isn’tahope,’Charliesaidsadly. ‘Ionlygetonebarayear.’

‘You never know, darling,’ saidGrandmaGeorgina. ‘It’s your birthday nextweek.

Youhaveasmuchchanceasanybodyelse.’

‘I’mafraidthatsimplyisn’ttrue,’saidGrandpaGeorge.‘ThekidswhoaregoingtofindtheGoldenTicketsaretheoneswhocanaffordtobuybarsofchocolateeveryday.OurCharliegetsonlyoneayear.Thereisn’tahope.’

6TheFirstTwoFinders

Theverynextday,thefirstGoldenTicketwasfound.Thefinderwasaboycalled

AugustusGloop,andMrBucket’seveningnewspapercarriedalargepictureofhimonthe

frontpage.Thepictureshowedanine-year-oldboywhowassoenormously fathelooked

as though he had been blown upwith a powerful pump.Great flabby folds of fatbulgedout

fromeverypartofhisbody,andhisfacewaslikeamonstrousballofdoughwithtwosmall

greedycurrantyeyespeeringoutupontheworld.ThetowninwhichAugustusGlooplived,

thenewspapersaid,hadgonewildwithexcitementovertheirhero.Flagswereflyingfrom

all thewindows,childrenhadbeengivenaholiday fromschool, andaparadewasbeing

organizedinhonourofthefamousyouth.

‘I just knew Augustus would find a Golden Ticket,’ his mother had told thenewspapermen.‘Heeatssomanybarsofchocolateadaythatitwasalmostimpossibleforhimnottofindone.Eatingishishobby,youknow.That’sallhe’sinterestedin.Butstill,that’s better thanbeing a hooligan and shooting off zip guns and things like that in hissparetime,isn’tit?AndwhatIalwayssayis,hewouldn’tgooneatinglikehedoesunlessheneedednourishment,wouldhe? It’sallvitamins,anyway.Whata thrill itwillbe forhimtovisitMrWonka’smarvellousfactory!We’rejustasproudasanything!’

‘Whatarevoltingwoman,’saidGrandmaJosephine.‘Andwhatarepulsiveboy,’saidGrandma Georgina. ‘Only four Golden Tickets left,’ said Grandpa George. ‘I wonderwho’llgetthose.’

Andnowthewholecountry,indeed,thewholeworld,seemedsuddenlytobecaughtup in amad chocolate-buying spree, everybody searching frantically for those preciousremainingtickets.FullygrownwomenwereseengoingintosweetshopsandbuyingtenWonka bars at a time, then tearing off the wrappers on the spot and peering eagerlyunderneathforaglintofgoldenpaper.Childrenweretakinghammersandsmashingtheirpiggybanksandrunningouttotheshopswithhandfulsofmoney.Inonecity,afamousgangsterrobbedabankofathousandpoundsandspentthewholelotonWonkabarsthatsame afternoon. Andwhen the police entered his house to arrest him, they found himsittingontheflooramidstmountainsofchocolate,rippingoffthewrapperswiththebladeofalongdagger.Infar-offRussia,awomancalledCharlotteRusseclaimedtohavefoundthe second ticket, but it turned out to be a clever fake. The famous English scientist,

ProfessorFoulbody, inventedamachinewhichwould tellyouatonce,withoutopeningthe wrapper of a bar of chocolate, whether or not there was a Golden Ticket hiddenunderneathit.Themachinehadamechanicalarmthatshotoutwithtremendousforceandgrabbedholdofanythingthathadtheslightestbitofgoldinsideit,andforamoment,itlookedliketheanswertoeverything.Butunfortunately,whiletheProfessorwasshowingoff the machine to the public at the sweet counter of a large department store, themechanical arm shot out and made a grab for the gold filling in the back tooth of aduchess who was standing near by. There was an ugly scene, and the machine wassmashedbythecrowd.

Suddenly, on the day beforeCharlieBucket’s birthday, the newspapers announcedthat thesecondGoldenTickethadbeenfound.TheluckypersonwasasmallgirlcalledVeruca Salt who lived with her rich parents in a great city far away. Once again MrBucket’seveningnewspapercarriedabigpictureof the finder.Shewassittingbetweenher beaming father and mother in the living room of their house, waving the GoldenTicketaboveherhead,andgrinningfromeartoear.

Veruca’sfather,MrSalt,hadeagerlyexplainedtothenewspapermenexactlyhowtheticketwasfound.‘Yousee,boys,’hehadsaid,‘assoonasmylittlegirltoldmethatshesimply had to have one of thoseGolden Tickets, I went out into the town and startedbuyingupalltheWonkabarsIcouldlaymyhandson.Thousandsofthem,Imusthavebought.Hundredsofthousands!ThenIhadthemloadedontotrucksandsentdirectlytomyownfactory.I’minthepeanutbusiness,yousee,andI’vegotaboutahundredwomenworking formeoveratmyplace, shellingpeanuts for roastingandsalting.That’swhatthey do all day long, thosewomen, they sit there shelling peanuts. So I says to them,“Okay,girls,”Isays,“fromnowon,youcanstopshellingpeanutsandstartshellingthewrappersoffthesechocolatebarsinstead!”Andtheydid.Ihadeveryworkerintheplaceyankingthepaperoffthosebarsofchocolatefullspeedaheadfrommorningtillnight.

‘Butthreedayswentby,andwehadnoluck.Oh,itwasterrible!MylittleVerucagotmore andmore upset each day, and every time Iwent home shewould scream atme,“Where’smyGoldenTicket!IwantmyGoldenTicket!”Andshewouldlieforhoursonthefloor,kickingandyellinginthemostdisturbingway.Well,Ijusthatedtoseemylittlegirlfeelingunhappylikethat,soIvowedIwouldkeepupthesearchuntilI’dgotherwhatshe wanted. Then suddenly … on the evening of the fourth day, one of my womenworkersyelled,“I’vegotit!AGoldenTicket!”AndIsaid,“Giveittome,quick!”andshedid,andIrushedithomeandgaveittomydarlingVeruca,andnowshe’sallsmiles,andwehaveahappyhomeonceagain.’

‘That’sevenworsethanthefatboy,’saidGrandmaJosephine.

‘Sheneedsareallygoodspanking,’saidGrandmaGeorgina.

‘I don’t think the girl’s father played it quite fair, Grandpa, do you?’ Charliemurmured.

‘Hespoilsher,’GrandpaJoesaid.‘Andnogoodcanevercomefromspoilingachildlikethat,Charlie,youmarkmywords.’

‘Cometobed,mydarling,’saidCharlie’smother.‘Tomorrow’syourbirthday,don’tforgetthat,soIexpectyou’llbeupearlytoopenyourpresent.’

‘AWonkachocolatebar!’criedCharlie.‘ItisaWonkabar,isn’tit?’

‘Yes,mylove,’hismothersaid.‘Ofcourseitis.’

‘Oh,wouldn’t itbewonderful if I found the thirdGoldenTicket inside it?’Charliesaid.

‘Bring it in herewhen you get it,’Grandpa Joe said. ‘Thenwe can allwatch youtakingoffthewrapper.’

7Charlie’sBirthday

‘Happybirthday!’ cried the fouroldgrandparents, asCharlie came into their roomearlythe

nextmorning.

Charliesmilednervouslyandsatdownon theedgeof thebed.Hewasholdinghispresent, his only present, very carefully in his two hands. WONKA’S WHIPPLE-SCRUMPTIOUSFUDGEMALLOWDELIGHT,itsaidonthewrapper.

The four old people, two at either end of the bed, propped themselves up on theirpillowsandstaredwithanxiouseyesatthebarofchocolateinCharlie’shands.

MrandMrsBucketcameinandstoodatthefootofthebed,watchingCharlie.

Theroombecamesilent.EverybodywaswaitingnowforCharlietostartopeninghispresent.Charlielookeddownatthebarofchocolate.Heranhisfingersslowlybackandforthalongthe lengthof it,strokingit lovingly,andtheshinypaperwrappermadelittlesharpcracklynoisesinthequietroom.

ThenMrsBucketsaidgently, ‘Youmustn’tbe toodisappointed,mydarling, ifyoudon’tfindwhatyou’relookingforunderneaththatwrapper.Youreallycan’texpecttobeasluckyasallthat.’

‘She’squiteright,’MrBucketsaid.Charliedidn’tsayanything.

‘After all,’Grandma Josephine said, ‘in thewholewideworld there areonly threeticketslefttobefound.’

‘Thethingtoremember,’GrandmaGeorginasaid,‘is thatwhateverhappens,you’llstillhavethebarofchocolate.’

‘Wonka’sWhipple-ScrumptiousFudgemallowDelight!’criedGrandpaGeorge.‘It’sthebestofthemall!You’lljustloveit!’

‘Yes,’Charliewhispered.‘Iknow.’

‘Just forget all about thoseGolden Tickets and enjoy the chocolate,’ Grandpa Joesaid.‘Whydon’tyoudothat?’

Theyallknewitwasridiculoustoexpectthisonepoorlittlebarofchocolatetohaveamagic ticket inside it, and theywere trying as gently and as kindly as they could toprepareCharlieforthedisappointment.Buttherewasoneotherthingthatthegrown-upsalsoknew,anditwasthis:thathoweversmallthechancemightbeofstrikinglucky,thechancewasthere.

Thechancehadtobethere.

ThisparticularbarofchocolatehadasmuchchanceasanyotherofhavingaGoldenTicket.

Andthatwaswhyallthegrandparentsandparentsintheroomwereactuallyjustas

tenseandexcitedasCharliewas,althoughtheywerepretendingtobeverycalm.

‘You’dbettergoaheadandopenitup,oryou’llbelateforschool,’GrandpaJoesaid.‘Youmightaswellgetitoverwith,’GrandpaGeorgesaid.

‘Open it, my dear,’ Grandma Georgina said. ‘Please open it. You’re making mejumpy.’Veryslowly,Charlie’sfingersbegantotearopenonesmallcornerofthewrappingpaper.Theoldpeopleinthebedallleanedforward,craningtheirscraggynecks.

Thensuddenly,asthoughhecouldn’tbearthesuspenseanylonger,Charlietorethewrapperrightdownthemiddle…andontohislap,therefell…alight-browncreamy-colouredbarofchocolate.

TherewasnosignofaGoldenTicketanywhere.

‘Well—that’sthat!’saidGrandpaJoebrightly.‘It’sjustwhatweexpected.’

Charlielookedup.Fourkindoldfaceswerewatchinghimintentlyfromthebed.Hesmiledatthem,asmallsadsmile,andthenheshruggedhisshouldersandpickedupthechocolatebarandhelditouttohismother,andsaid,‘Here,Mother,haveabit.We’llshareit.Iwanteverybodytotasteit.’

‘Certainlynot!’hismothersaid.

Andtheothersallcried,‘No,no!Wewouldn’tdreamofit!It’sallyours!’

‘Please,’beggedCharlie,turningroundandofferingittoGrandpaJoe.Butneitherhenoranyoneelsewouldtakeevenatinybit.

‘It’s time to go to school, my darling,’ Mrs Bucket said, putting an arm aroundCharlie’sskinnyshoulders.‘Comeon,oryou’llbelate.’

8TwoMoreGoldenTicketsFound

That evening,MrBucket’s newspaper announced the finding of not only the thirdGolden

Ticket, but the fourth as well. TWO GOLDEN TICKETS FOUND TODAY,screamedthe

headlines.ONLYONEMORELEFT.

‘Allright,’saidGrandpaJoe,whenthewholefamilywasgatheredintheoldpeople’sroomaftersupper,‘let’shearwhofoundthem.’

‘The third ticket,’ read Mr Bucket, holding the newspaper up close to his facebecausehiseyeswerebadandhecouldn’taffordglasses,‘thethirdticketwasfoundbyaMissVioletBeauregarde.TherewasgreatexcitementintheBeauregardehouseholdwhenour reporter arrived to interview the lucky young lady— cameras were clicking andflashbulbs were flashing and people were pushing and jostling and trying to get a bitclosertothefamousgirl.AndthefamousgirlwasstandingonachairinthelivingroomwavingtheGoldenTicketmadlyatarm’slengthasthoughshewereflaggingataxi.Shewastalkingveryfastandveryloudlytoeveryone,butitwasnoteasytohearallthatshesaidbecauseshewaschewingsoferociouslyuponapieceofgumatthesametime.

‘“I’ma gumchewer, normally,” she shouted, “butwhen I heard about these ticketthingsofMrWonka’s,Igaveupgumandstartedonchocolatebarsinthehopeofstrikinglucky.Now,ofcourse,I’mbackongum.Ijustadoregum.Ican’tdowithoutit.ImunchitalldaylongexceptforafewminutesatmealtimeswhenItakeitoutandstickitbehindmyearforsafekeeping.Totellyouthetruth,Isimplywouldn’tfeelcomfortableifIdidn’thavethatlittlewedgeofgumtochewoneverymomentoftheday,Ireallywouldn’t.Mymothersaysit’snotladylikeanditlooksuglytoseeagirl’sjawsgoingupanddownlikeminedoallthetime,butIdon’tagree.Andwho’sshetocriticize,anyway,becauseifyouaskme,I’dsaythatherjawsaregoingupanddownalmostasmuchasminearejustfromyellingatmeeveryminuteoftheday.”

‘“Now,Violet,”MrsBeauregardesaidfromafarcorneroftheroomwhereshewasstandingonthepianotoavoidbeingtrampledbythemob.

‘“Allright,Mother,keepyourhairon!”MissBeauregardeshouted.“Andnow,”shewenton,turningtothereportersagain,“itmayinterestyoutoknowthatthispieceofgumI’mchewingrightatthismomentisoneI’vebeenworkingonforoverthreemonthssolid.That’s a record, that is. It’s beaten the record held by my best friend, Miss CorneliaPrinzmetel. Andwas she furious! It’smymost treasured possession now, this piece ofgumis.Atnight-time,Ijuststickitontheendofthebedpost,andit’sasgoodaseverinthemornings—abithardatfirst,maybe,butitsoonsoftensupagainafterI’vegivenitafewgoodchews.BeforeIstartedchewingfortheworldrecord,Iusedtochangemypieceofgumonceaday.Iusedtodoitinourliftonthewayhomefromschool.Whythelift?BecauseIlikedstickingthegooeypiecethatI’djustfinishedwithontooneofthecontrolbuttons.Thenthenextpersonwhocamealongandpressedthebuttongotmyoldgumon

theendofhisorherfinger.Ha-ha!Andwhatarackettheykickedup,someofthem.Yougetthebestresultswithwomenwhohaveexpensivegloveson.Ohyes,I’mthrilledtobegoing toMrWonka’s factory. And I understand that afterwards he’s going to givemeenoughgumtolastmefortherestofmywholelife.Whoopee!Hooray!”’

‘Beastlygirl,’saidGrandmaJosephine.

‘Despicable!’saidGrandmaGeorgina.‘She’llcometoastickyendoneday,chewingallthatgum,youseeifshedoesn’t.’

‘AndwhogotthefourthGoldenTicket?’Charlieasked.

‘Now,letmesee,’saidMrBucket,peeringatthenewspaperagain.‘Ahyes,hereweare.ThefourthGoldenTicket,’heread,‘wasfoundbyaboycalledMikeTeavee.’

‘Another bad lot, I’ll be bound,’ muttered Grandma Josephine. ‘Don’t interrupt,Grandma,’saidMrsBucket.

‘TheTeaveehousehold,’saidMrBucket,goingonwithhisreading,‘wascrammed,likealltheothers,withexcitedvisitorswhenourreporterarrived,butyoungMikeTeavee,theluckywinner,seemedextremelyannoyedbythewholebusiness.“Can’tyoufoolsseeI’mwatchingtelevision?”hesaidangrily.“Iwishyouwouldn’tinterrupt!”

‘Thenine-year-oldboywasseatedbeforeanenormoustelevisionset,withhiseyesglued to the screen, and hewaswatching a film inwhich one bunch of gangsterswasshootingupanotherbunchofgangsterswithmachineguns.MikeTeaveehimselfhadnoless than eighteen toy pistols of various sizes hanging from belts around his body, andeverynowandagainhewouldleapupintotheairandfireoffhalfadozenroundsfromoneoranotheroftheseweapons.

‘“Quiet!”heshouted,whensomeonetriedtoaskhimaquestion.“Didn’tI tellyounottointerrupt!Thisshow’sanabsolutewhiz-banger!It’sterrific!Iwatchiteveryday.Iwatchall of themeveryday, even the rottenones,where there’sno shooting. I like thegangstersbest.They’reterrific,thosegangsters!Especiallywhentheystartpumpingeachotherfulloflead,orflashingtheoldstilettos,orgivingeachothertheone-two-threewiththeirknuckledusters!Gosh,whatwouldn’tIgivetobedoingthatmyself!It’sthelife,Itellyou!It’sterrific!”’

‘That’squiteenough!’snappedGrandmaJosephine.‘Ican’tbeartolistentoit!’

‘Norme,’saidGrandmaGeorgina.‘Doallchildrenbehavelikethisnowadays—likethesebratswe’vebeenhearingabout?’

‘Of course not,’ saidMrBucket, smiling at the old lady in the bed. ‘Some do, ofcourse.Infact,quitealotofthemdo.Butnotall.’

‘Andnowthere’sonlyoneticketleft!’saidGrandpaGeorge.

‘Quite so,’ sniffedGrandmaGeorgina. ‘And just as sure as I’ll be having cabbagesoupforsuppertomorrow,thatticket’llgotosomenastylittlebeastwhodoesn’tdeserveit!’

9GrandpaJoeTakesaGamble

The next day, when Charlie came home from school and went in to see hisgrandparents,he

foundthatonlyGrandpaJoewasawake.Theotherthreewereallsnoringloudly.

‘Ssshh!’whisperedGrandpa Joe, and he beckonedCharlie to come closer.Charlietiptoedoverandstoodbesidethebed.TheoldmangaveCharlieaslygrin,andthenhestarted rummagingunderhispillowwithonehand;andwhen thehandcameoutagain,therewasanancientleatherpurseclutchedinthefingers.Undercoverofthebedclothes,theoldmanopenedthepurseandtippeditupsidedown.Outfellasinglesilversixpence.‘It’smysecrethoard,’hewhispered.‘Theothersdon’tknowI’vegotit.Andnow,youandIaregoingtohaveonemoreflingatfindingthatlastticket.Howaboutit,eh?Butyou’llhavetohelpme.’

‘Areyousureyouwanttospendyourmoneyonthat,Grandpa?’Charliewhispered.

‘Of course I’m sure!’ spluttered theoldman excitedly. ‘Don’t stand there arguing!I’maskeenasyouaretofindthatticket!Here—takethemoneyandrundownthestreettothenearestshopandbuythefirstWonkabaryouseeandbringitstraightbacktome,andwe’llopenittogether.’

Charlie took the little silver coin, and slipped quickly out of the room. In fiveminutes,hewasback.

‘Haveyougotit?’whisperedGrandpaJoe,hiseyesshiningwithexcitement.

Charlie nodded and held out the bar of chocolate.WONKA’SNUTTYCRUNCHSURPRISE,itsaidonthewrapper.

‘Good!’theoldmanwhispered,sittingupinthebedandrubbinghishands.‘Now—comeoverhereandsitclosetomeandwe’llopenittogether.Areyouready?’

‘Yes,’Charliesaid.‘I’mready.’

‘Allright.Youtearoffthefirstbit.’

‘No,’Charliesaid,‘youpaidforit.Youdoitall.’

Theoldman’sfingersweretremblingmostterriblyastheyfumbledwiththewrapper.‘Wedon’thaveahope,really,’hewhispered,gigglingabit.‘Youdoknowwedon’thaveahope,don’tyou?’

‘Yes,’Charliesaid.‘Iknowthat.’

Theylookedateachother,andbothstartedgigglingnervously.

‘Mindyou,’saidGrandpaJoe,‘thereisjustthattinychancethatitmightbetheone,don’tyouagree?’

‘Yes,’Charliesaid.‘Ofcourse.Whydon’tyouopenit,Grandpa?’

‘Allingoodtime,myboy,allingoodtime.WhichenddoyouthinkIoughttoopenfirst?’

‘Thatcorner.Theonefurthestfromyou.Justtearoffatinybit,butnotquiteenoughforustoseeanything.’

‘Likethat?’saidtheoldman.

‘Yes.Nowalittlebitmore.’

‘Youfinishit,’saidGrandpaJoe.‘I’mtoonervous.’

‘No,Grandpa.Youmustdoityourself

‘Verywell,then.Heregoes.’Hetoreoffthewrapper.

Theybothstaredatwhatlayunderneath.Itwasabarofchocolate—nothingmore.

Allatonce,theybothsawthefunnysideofthewholething,andtheyburstintopealsoflaughter.

‘What on earth’s going on!’ cried Grandma Josephine, waking up suddenly.‘Nothing,’saidGrandpaJoe.‘Yougoonbacktosleep.’

10TheFamilyBeginstoStarve

During the next twoweeks, theweather turned very cold. First came the snow. ItbeganverysuddenlyonemorningjustasCharlieBucketwasgettingdressedforschool.Standingby thewindow,hesawthehugeflakesdriftingslowlydownoutofan icyskythatwasthecolourofsteel.

Byevening,itlayfourfeetdeeparoundthetinyhouse,andMrBuckethadtodigapathfromthefrontdoortotheroad.

After the snow, there came a freezing gale that blew for days and days withoutstopping.Andoh,howbittercold itwas!Everything thatCharlie touchedseemed tobemadeofice,andeachtimehesteppedoutsidethedoor,thewindwaslikeaknifeonhischeek.

Inside thehouse, little jetsof freezingair came rushing in through the sidesof thewindowsandunderthedoors,andtherewasnoplacetogotoescapethem.Thefouroldones laysilentandhuddled in theirbed, trying tokeep thecoldoutof theirbones.TheexcitementovertheGoldenTicketshadlongsincebeenforgotten.Nobodyinthefamilygaveathoughtnowtoanythingexceptthetwovitalproblemsoftryingtokeepwarmandtryingtogetenoughtoeat.

There is something about very cold weather that gives one an enormous appetite.Mostofusfindourselvesbeginningtocraverichsteamingstewsandhotapplepiesandallkindsofdeliciouswarmingdishes;andbecauseweareallagreatdealluckierthanwerealize,weusually getwhatwewant—or near enough.ButCharlieBucket never gotwhathewantedbecausethefamilycouldn’taffordit,andasthecoldweatherwentonandon, he became ravenously and desperately hungry.Both bars of chocolate, the birthdayoneandtheoneGrandpaJoehadbought,hadlongsincebeennibbledaway,andallhegotnowwerethosethin,cabbagymealsthreetimesaday.

Thenallatonce,themealsbecameeventhinner.

The reason for this was that the toothpaste factory, the place where Mr Bucketworked, suddenly went bust and had to close down. Quickly, Mr Bucket tried to getanotherjob.Buthehadnoluck.Intheend,theonlywayinwhichhemanagedtoearnafewpennieswasby shovelling snow in the streets.But itwasn’t enough tobuy even aquarterof thefood thatsevenpeopleneeded.Thesituationbecamedesperate.Breakfastwasasinglesliceofbreadforeachpersonnow,andlunchwasmaybehalfaboiledpotato.

Slowlybutsurely,everybodyinthehousebegantostarve.

Andeveryday,littleCharlieBucket,trudgingthroughthesnowonhiswaytoschool,wouldhavetopassMrWillyWonka’sgiantchocolatefactory.Andeveryday,ashecameneartoit,hewouldlifthissmallpointednosehighintheairandsniffthewonderfulsweetsmellofmeltingchocolate.Sometimes,hewouldstandmotionlessoutside thegates forseveralminutesonend, takingdeepswallowingbreathsas thoughhewere trying toeatthesmellitself.

‘That child,’ saidGrandpa Joe,pokinghisheadup fromunder theblanketone icymorning,‘thatchildhasgottohavemorefood.Itdoesn’tmatteraboutus.We’retoooldtobotherwith.Butagrowingboy!Hecan’tgoon like this!He’sbeginning to look likeaskeleton!’

‘Whatcanonedo?’murmuredGrandmaJosephinemiserably.‘Herefusestotakeanyofours.Ihearhismothertriedtoslipherownpieceofbreadontohisplateatbreakfastthismorning,buthewouldn’ttouchit.Hemadehertakeitback.’

‘He’sa fine little fellow,’ saidGrandpaGeorge. ‘Hedeservesbetter than this.’Thecruelweatherwentonandon.

And every day, Charlie Bucket grew thinner and thinner. His face becamefrighteninglywhiteandpinched.Theskinwasdrawnsotightlyoverthecheeksthatyoucouldseetheshapesofthebonesunderneath.Itseemeddoubtfulwhetherhecouldgoonmuchlongerlikethiswithoutbecomingdangerouslyill.

Andnow,verycalmly,withthatcuriouswisdomthatseemstocomesooftentosmallchildrenintimesofhardship,hebegantomakelittlechangeshereandthereinsomeofthe things thathedid, so as to savehis strength. In themornings, he left thehouse tenminutesearliersothathecouldwalkslowlytoschool,withouteverhavingtorun.Hesatquietly in the classroomduringbreak, restinghimself,while theothers rushedoutdoorsandthrewsnowballsandwrestledinthesnow.Everythinghedidnow,hedidslowlyandcarefully,topreventexhaustion.

Then one afternoon, walking back home with the icy wind in his face (andincidentallyfeelinghungrierthanhehadeverfeltbefore),hiseyewascaughtsuddenlybysomethingsilvery lying in thegutter, in thesnow.Charliesteppedoff thekerbandbentdowntoexamineit.Partofitwasburiedunderthesnow,buthesawatoncewhatitwas.

Itwasafifty-pencepiece!

Quicklyhelookedaroundhim.

Hadsomebodyjustdroppedit?

No—thatwasimpossiblebecauseofthewaypartofitwasburied.

Severalpeoplewenthurryingpasthimonthepavement,theirchinssunkdeepinthecollarsoftheircoats,theirfeetcrunchinginthesnow.Noneofthemwassearchingforanymoney; none of themwas taking the slightest notice of the small boy crouching in thegutter.

Thenwasithis,thisfiftypence?Couldhehaveit?

Carefully, Charlie pulled it out from under the snow. It was damp and dirty, butotherwiseperfect.

AWHOLEfiftypence!

Heheldittightlybetweenhisshiveringfingers,gazingdownatit.Itmeantonethingtohimatthatmoment,onlyonething.ItmeantFOOD.

Automatically, Charlie turned and beganmoving towards the nearest shop. It wasonlytenpacesaway…itwasanewspaperandstationeryshop,thekindthatsellsalmost

everything,includingsweetsandcigars…andwhathewoulddo,hewhisperedquicklytohimself…hewouldbuyone lusciousbarofchocolateandeat itallup,everybitof it,rightthenandthere…andtherestof themoneyhewouldtakestraightbackhomeandgivetohismother.

11TheMiracle

Charlieenteredtheshopandlaidthedampfiftypenceonthecounter.

‘OneWonka’sWhipple-Scrumptious FudgemallowDelight,’ he said, rememberinghowmuchhehadlovedtheonehehadonhisbirthday.

Themanbehindthecounterlookedfatandwell-fed.Hehadbiglipsandfatcheeksandaveryfatneck.Thefataroundhisneckbulgedoutallaroundthetopofhiscollarlikearubberring.Heturnedandreachedbehindhimforthechocolatebar,thenheturnedbackagainandhanded it toCharlie.Charliegrabbed it andquickly toreoff thewrapper andtookanenormousbite.Thenhetookanother…andanother…andoh,thejoyofbeingable to cram large pieces of something sweet and solid into one’s mouth! The sheerblissfuljoyofbeingabletofillone’smouthwithrichsolidfood!

‘Youlooklikeyouwantedthatone,sonny,’ theshopkeepersaidpleasantly.Charlienodded,hismouthbulgingwithchocolate.

TheshopkeeperputCharlie’schangeonthecounter.‘Takeiteasy,’hesaid.‘It’llgiveyouatummy-acheifyouswallowitlikethatwithoutchewing.’

Charlie went on wolfing the chocolate. He couldn’t stop. And in less than half aminute,thewholethinghaddisappeareddownhisthroat.Hewasquiteoutofbreath,buthe felt marvellously, extraordinarily happy. He reached out a hand to take the change.Thenhepaused.Hiseyeswerejustabovethelevelofthecounter.Theywerestaringatthesilver coins lying there.The coinswere all five-pennypieces.Therewerenineof themaltogether.Surelyitwouldn’tmatterifhespentjustonemore…

‘Ithink,’hesaidquietly,‘Ithink…I’llhavejustonemoreofthosechocolatebars.Thesamekindasbefore,please.’

‘Whynot?’ the fat shopkeeper said, reaching behind him again and taking anotherWhipple-ScrumptiousFudgemallowDelightfromtheshelf.Helaiditonthecounter.

Charliepickeditupandtoreoffthewrapper…andsuddenly…fromunderneaththewrapper…therecameabrilliantflashofgold.

Charlie’sheartstoodstill.

‘It’s a Golden Ticket!’ screamed the shopkeeper, leaping about a foot in the air.‘You’ve got a Golden Ticket! You’ve found the last Golden Ticket! Hey, would youbelieveit!Comeandlookatthis,everybody!Thekid’sfoundWonka’slastGoldenTicket!Thereitis!It’srighthereinhishands!’

Itseemedasthoughtheshopkeepermightbegoingtohaveafit.‘Inmyshop,too!’heyelled. ‘Hefound it righthere inmyownlittleshop!Somebodycall thenewspapersquick and let them know!Watch out now, sonny!Don’t tear it as you unwrap it! Thatthing’sprecious!’

In a few seconds, there was a crowd of about twenty people clustering around

Charlie,andmanymorewerepushingtheirwayinfromthestreet.EverybodywantedtogetalookattheGoldenTicketandattheluckyfinder.

‘Whereisit?’somebodyshouted.‘Holditupsoallofuscanseeit!’

‘Thereitis,there!’someoneelseshouted.‘He’sholdingitinhishands!Seethegoldshining!’

‘How did he manage to find it, I’d like to know?’ a large boy shouted angrily.‘TwentybarsadayI’vebeenbuyingforweeksandweeks!’

‘Think of all the free stuff he’ll be getting too!’ another boy said enviously. ‘Alifetimesupply!’

‘He’llneedit,theskinnylittleshrimp!’agirlsaid,laughing.

Charliehadn’tmoved.Hehadn’tevenunwrappedtheGoldenTicketfromaroundthechocolate.Hewasstandingverystill,holdingittightlywithbothhandswhilethecrowdpushed and shouted all around him. He felt quite dizzy. There was a peculiar floatingsensationcomingoverhim,asthoughhewerefloatingupintheairlikeaballoon.Hisfeetdidn’t seem to be touching the ground at all. He could hear his heart thumping awayloudlysomewhereinhisthroat.

Atthatpoint,hebecameawareofahandrestinglightlyonhisshoulder,andwhenhelookedup,hesawatallmanstandingoverhim.‘Listen,’themanwhispered.‘I’llbuyitfromyou.I’llgiveyoufiftypounds.Howaboutit,eh?AndI’llgiveyouanewbicycleaswell.Okay?’

‘Areyoucrazy?’shoutedawomanwhowasstandingequallyclose.‘Why,I’dgivehim two hundred pounds for that ticket! You want to sell that ticket for two hundredpounds,youngman?’

‘That’squiteenoughof that!’ the fat shopkeeper shouted,pushinghisway throughthecrowdandtakingCharliefirmlybythearm.‘Leavethekidalone,willyou!Makewaythere!Lethimout!’AndtoCharlie,asheledhimtothedoor,hewhispered,‘Don’tyouletanybodyhaveit!Takeitstraighthome,quickly,beforeyouloseit!Runall thewayanddon’tstoptillyougetthere,youunderstand?’

Charlienodded.

‘You know something,’ the fat shopkeeper said, pausing amoment and smiling atCharlie,‘Ihaveafeelingyouneededabreaklikethis.I’mawfullygladyougotit.Goodlucktoyou,sonny.’

‘Thankyou,’Charliesaid,andoffhewent,runningthroughthesnowasfastashislegswouldgo.AndasheflewpastMrWillyWonka’sfactory,heturnedandwavedatitand sang out, ‘I’ll be seeing you! I’ll be seeing you soon!’ And five minutes later hearrivedathisownhome.

12WhatItSaidontheGoldenTicket

Charlieburstthroughthefrontdoor,shouting,‘Mother!Mother!Mother!’

MrsBucketwasintheoldgrandparents’room,servingthemtheireveningsoup.

‘Mother!’ yelled Charlie, rushing in on them like a hurricane. ‘Look! I’ve got it!Look,Mother,look!ThelastGoldenTicket!It’smine!IfoundsomemoneyinthestreetandIbought twobarsofchocolateandthesecondonehadtheGoldenTicketandtherewerecrowdsofpeopleallaroundmewantingtoseeitandtheshopkeeperrescuedmeandIranallthewayhomeandhereIam!IT’STHEFIFTHGOLDENTICKET,MOTHER,ANDI’VEFOUNDIT!’

Mrs Bucket simply stood and stared, while the four old grandparents, who weresittingup inbedbalancingbowlsof soupon their laps, alldropped their spoonswithaclatterandfrozeagainsttheirpillows.

Forabouttensecondstherewasabsolutesilenceintheroom.Nobodydaredtospeakormove.Itwasamagicmoment.

Then, very softly,Grandpa Joe said, ‘You’re pulling our legs,Charlie, aren’t you?You’rehavingalittlejoke?’

‘I am not!’ cried Charlie, rushing up to the bed and holding out the large andbeautifulGoldenTicketforhimtosee.

Grandpa Joe leaned forward and took a close look, his nose almost touching theticket.Theotherswatchedhim,waitingfortheverdict.

Then very slowly, with a slow and marvellous grin spreading all over his face,GrandpaJoeliftedhisheadandlookedstraightatCharlie.Thecolourwasrushingtohischeeks,andhiseyeswerewideopen,shiningwithjoy,andinthecentreofeacheye,rightintheverycentre,intheblackpupil,alittlesparkofwildexcitementwasslowlydancing.Then the old man took a deep breath, and suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, anexplosion seemed to take place inside him. He threw up his arms and yelled‘Yippeeeeeeee!’Andatthesametime,hislongbonybodyroseupoutofthebedandhisbowlofsoupwentflyingintothefaceofGrandmaJosephine,andinonefantastic leap,thisoldfellowofninety-sixandahalf,whohadn’tbeenoutofbedtheselasttwentyyears,jumpedontothefloorandstarteddoingadanceofvictoryinhispyjamas.

‘Yippeeeeeeeeee!’heshouted.‘ThreecheersforCharlie!Hip,hip,hooray!’

Atthispoint,thedooropened,andMrBucketwalkedintotheroom.Hewascoldandtired,andhelookedit.Alldaylong,hehadbeenshovellingsnowinthestreets.

‘Cripes!’hecried.‘What’sgoingoninhere?’

Itdidn’ttakethemlongtotellhimwhathadhappened.

‘Idon’tbelieveit!’hesaid.‘It’snotpossible.’

‘Showhimtheticket,Charlie!’shoutedGrandpaJoe,whowasstilldancingaround

thefloorlikeadervishinhisstripedpyjamas.‘ShowyourfatherthefifthandlastGoldenTicketintheworld!’

‘Letmeseeit,Charlie,’MrBucketsaid,collapsingintoachairandholdingouthishand.Charliecameforwardwiththepreciousdocument.

Itwas averybeautiful thing, thisGoldenTicket, havingbeenmade, so it seemed,fromasheetofpuregoldhammeredoutalmosttothethinnessofpaper.Ononesideofit,printedby someclevermethod in jet-black letters,was the invitation itself— fromMrWonka.

‘Readitaloud,’saidGrandpaJoe,climbingbackintobedagainatlast.‘Let’sallhearexactlywhatitsays.’

Mr Bucket held the lovely Golden Ticket up close to his eyes. His hands weretremblingslightly,andheseemedtobeovercomebythewholebusiness.Hetookseveraldeepbreaths.Thenheclearedhisthroat,andsaid,‘Allright,I’llreadit.Herewego:

‘Greetings to you, the lucky finder of thisGolden Ticket, fromMrWillyWonka! Ishakeyouwarmlybythehand!Tremendousthingsareinstoreforyou!Manywonderfulsurprisesawaityou!Fornow,Idoinviteyoutocometomyfactoryandbemyguestforonewholeday—youandallotherswhoareluckyenoughtofindmyGoldenTickets.I,WillyWonka, will conduct you around the factory myself, showing you everything thatthere is tosee,andafterwards,whenit is timeto leave,youwillbeescortedhomebyaprocessionof large trucks.These trucks, Icanpromiseyou,willbe loadedwithenoughdeliciouseatables to last youandyourentirehousehold formanyyears. If,atany timethereafter,youshouldrunoutofsupplies,youhaveonlytocomebacktothefactoryandshowthisGoldenTicket,andIshallbehappytorefillyourcupboardwithwhateveryouwant.Inthisway,youwillbeabletokeepyourselfsuppliedwithtastymorselsfortherestofyourlife.Butthisisbynomeansthemostexcitingthingthatwillhappenonthedayofyour visit. I am preparing other surprises that are even more marvellous and morefantasticforyouandforallmybelovedGoldenTicketholders—mysticandmarvelloussurprisesthatwillentrance,delight,intrigue,astonish,andperplexyoubeyondmeasure.Inyourwildestdreamsyoucouldnotimaginethatsuchthingscouldhappentoyou!Justwaitandsee!Andnow,hereareyourinstructions:thedayIhavechosenforthevisitisthefirstday in themonthofFebruary.On thisday,andonnoother, youmust come to thefactorygatesatteno’clocksharpinthemorning.Don’tbelate!Andyouareallowedtobringwith you either oneor twomembers of your own family to lookafter youand toensure thatyoudon’tget intomischief.Onemore thing—becertain tohave this ticketwithyou,otherwiseyouwillnotbeadmitted.

(Signed)WillyWonka.’

‘ThefirstdayofFebruary!’criedMrsBucket.‘Butthat’stomorrow!TodayisthelastdayofJanuary.Iknowitis!’

‘Cripes!’saidMrBucket.‘Ithinkyou’reright!’

‘You’rejustintime!’shoutedGrandpaJoe.‘There’snotamomenttolose.Youmuststart making preparations at once!Wash your face, comb your hair, scrub your hands,brushyourteeth,blowyournose,cutyournails,polishyourshoes,ironyourshirt,andfor

heaven’ssake,getallthatmudoffyourpants!Youmustgetready,myboy!Youmustgetreadyforthebiggestdayofyourlife!’

‘Nowdon’tover-exciteyourself,Grandpa,’MrsBucketsaid.‘Anddon’tflusterpoorCharlie.

Wemust all try tokeepverycalm.Now the first thing todecide is this—who isgoingtogowithCharlietothefactory?’

‘Iwill!’shoutedGrandpaJoe,leapingoutofbedonceagain.‘I’lltakehim!I’lllookafterhim!Youleaveittome!’

MrsBucket smiledat theoldman, then she turned toherhusbandand said, ‘Howaboutyou,dear?Don’tyouthinkyououghttogo?’

‘Well…’MrBucket said, pausing to think about it, ‘no… I’mnot so sure that Ishould.’‘Butyoumust.’

‘There’snomustaboutit,mydear,’MrBucketsaidgently.‘Mindyou,I’dlovetogo.It’ll be tremendously exciting. But on the other hand… I believe that the personwhoreallydeservestogomostofallisGrandpaJoehimself.Heseemstoknowmoreaboutitthanwedo.Provided,ofcourse,thathefeelswellenough…’

‘Yippeeeeee!’shoutedGrandpaJoe,seizingCharliebythehandsanddancingroundtheroom.

‘Hecertainlyseemswellenough,’MrsBucketsaid,laughing.‘Yes…perhapsyou’rerightafterall.PerhapsGrandpaJoeshouldbetheonetogowithhim.Icertainlycan’tgomyselfandleavetheotherthreeoldpeopleallaloneinbedforawholeday.’

‘Hallelujah!’yelledGrandpaJoe.‘PraisetheLord!’

Atthatpoint,therecamealoudknockonthefrontdoor.MrBucketwenttoopenit,andthenextmoment,swarmsofnewspapermenandphotographerswerepouringintothehouse. They had tracked down the finder of the fifth Golden Ticket, and now they allwantedtogetthefullstoryforthefrontpagesofthemorningpapers.Forseveralhours,there was complete pandemonium in the little house, and it must have been nearlymidnightbeforeMrBucketwasabletogetridofthemsothatCharliecouldgotobed.

13TheBigDayArrives

Thesunwasshiningbrightlyonthemorningofthebigday,butthegroundwasstillwhite

withsnowandtheairwasverycold.

Outside the gates ofWonka’s factory, enormous crowds of people had gathered towatchthefiveluckyticketholdersgoingin.Theexcitementwastremendous.Itwasjustbefore ten o’clock. The crowds were pushing and shouting, and policemen with armslinkedweretryingtoholdthembackfromthegates.

Rightbesidethegates,inasmallgroupthatwascarefullyshieldedfromthecrowdsbythepolice,stoodthefivefamouschildren,togetherwiththegrown-upswhohadcomewiththem.

ThetallbonyfigureofGrandpaJoecouldbeseenstandingquietlyamongthem,andbesidehim,holdingtightlyontohishand,waslittleCharlieBuckethimself.

Allthechildren,exceptCharlie,hadboththeirmothersandfatherswiththem,anditwas agood thing that theyhad, otherwise thewholepartymighthavegot out of hand.Theyweresoeagertogetgoingthattheirparentswerehavingtoholdthembackbyforcetopreventthemfromclimbingoverthegates.‘Bepatient!’criedthefathers.‘Bestill!It’snottimeyet!It’snotteno’clock!’

Behindhim,CharlieBucketcouldheartheshoutsofthepeopleinthecrowdastheypushedandfoughttogetaglimpseofthefamouschildren.

‘There’sVioletBeauregarde!’heheardsomeoneshouting.‘That’sherallright!Icanrememberherfacefromthenewspapers!’

‘And you know what?’ somebody else shouted back. ‘She’s still chewing thatdreadfuloldpieceofgumshe’shadforthreemonths!Youlookatherjaws!They’restillworkingonit!’

‘Who’sthebigfatboy?’

‘That’sAugustusGloop!’

‘Soitis!’

‘Enormous,isn’the!’

‘Fantastic!’

‘Who’sthekidwithapictureofTheLoneRangerstencilledonhiswindcheater?’

‘That’sMikeTeavee!He’sthetelevisionfiend!’

‘Hemustbecrazy!Lookatallthosetoypistolshe’sgothangingalloverhim!’

‘TheoneIwanttoseeisVerucaSalt!’shoutedanothervoiceinthecrowd.‘She’sthegirlwhosefatherboughtuphalfamillionchocolatebarsandthenmadetheworkersinhis

peanutfactoryunwrapeveryoneofthemuntiltheyfoundaGoldenTicket!Hegivesheranythingshewants!Absolutelyanything!Sheonlyhas tostartscreamingfor itandshegetsit!’

‘Dreadful,isn’tit?’

‘Shocking,Icallit!’

‘Whichdoyouthinkisher?’

‘Thatone!Overthereontheleft!Thelittlegirlinthesilverminkcoat!’

‘WhichoneisCharlieBucket?’

‘CharlieBucket?Hemustbethatskinnylittleshrimpstandingbesidetheoldfellowwholookslikeaskeleton.Veryclosetous.Justthere!Seehim?’

‘Whyhasn’thegotacoatoninthiscoldweather?’‘Don’taskme.Maybehecan’taffordtobuyone.’‘Goodnessme!Hemustbefreezing!’

Charlie,standingonlyafewpacesawayfromthespeaker,gaveGrandpaJoe’shandasqueeze,andtheoldmanlookeddownatCharlieandsmiled.

Somewhereinthedistance,achurchclockbeganstrikingten.

Veryslowly,withaloudcreakingofrustyhinges,thegreatirongatesofthefactorybegantoswingopen.

The crowd became suddenly silent. The children stopped jumping about.All eyeswerefixeduponthegates.

‘Thereheis!’somebodyshouted,‘That’shim!’Andsoitwas!

14MrWillyWonka

MrWonkawasstandingallalonejustinsidetheopengatesofthefactory.

Andwhatanextraordinarylittlemanhewas!

Hehadablacktophatonhishead.

Heworeatailcoatmadeofabeautifulplum-colouredvelvet.

Histrouserswerebottlegreen.

Hisgloveswerepearlygrey.

Andinonehandhecarriedafinegold-toppedwalkingcane.

Coveringhischin,therewasasmall,neat,pointedblackbeard—agoatee.Andhiseyes — his eyes were most marvellously bright. They seemed to be sparkling andtwinklingatyouallthetime.Thewholeface,infact,wasalightwithfunandlaughter.

Andoh,howcleverhelooked!Howquickandsharpandfulloflife!Hekeptmakingquick jerky little movements with his head, cocking it this way and that, and takingeverythinginwiththosebrighttwinklingeyes.Hewaslikeasquirrelinthequicknessofhismovements,likeaquickcleveroldsquirrelfromthepark.

Suddenly,hedida funny little skippingdance in thesnow,andhespreadhisarmswide,andhesmiledatthefivechildrenwhowereclusterednearthegates,andhecalledout,‘Welcome,mylittlefriends!Welcometothefactory!’

His voicewas high and flutey. ‘Will you come forward one at a time, please,’ hecalledout,‘andbringyourparents.ThenshowmeyourGoldenTicketandgivemeyourname.Who’sfirst?’

Thebigfatboysteppedup.‘I’mAugustusGloop,’hesaid.

‘Augustus!’ criedMrWonka, seizing his hand and pumping it up and downwithterrific force. ‘My dear boy, how good to see you! Delighted! Charmed!Overjoyed tohaveyouwithus!Andtheseareyourparents?Hownice!Comein!Comein!That’sright!Stepthroughthegates!’

MrWonkawasclearly just asexcitedaseverybodyelse. ‘Myname,’ said thenextchildtogoforward,‘isVerucaSalt.’

‘My dear Veruca! How do you do? What a pleasure this is! You do have aninterestingname,don’tyou?Ialwaysthoughtthataverucawasasortofwartthatyougoton the sole of your foot!But Imust bewrong,mustn’t I?Howpretty you look in thatlovely mink coat! I’m so glad you could come! Dear me, this is going to be such anexcitingday! I dohopeyouenjoy it! I’m sureyouwill! I knowyouwill!Your father?Howareyou,MrSalt?AndMrsSalt?Overjoyed to seeyou!Yes, the ticket isquite inorder!Pleasegoin!’

Thenexttwochildren,VioletBeauregardeandMikeTeavee,cameforwardtohave

theirticketsexaminedandthentohavetheirarmspracticallypumpedofftheirshouldersbytheenergeticMrWonka.

Andlastofall,asmallnervousvoicewhispered,‘CharlieBucket.’

‘Charlie!’criedMrWonka.‘Well,well,well!Sothereyouare!You’retheonewhofoundyourticketonlyyesterday,aren’tyou?Yes,yes.Ireadallaboutitinthismorning’spapers! Just in time, my dear boy! I’m so glad! So happy for you! And this? Yourgrandfather? Delighted tomeet you, sir! Overjoyed! Enraptured! Enchanted! All right!Excellent!Iseverybodyinnow?Fivechildren?Yes!Good!Nowwillyoupleasefollowme! Our tour is about to begin! But do keep together! Please don’t wander off byyourselves!Ishouldn’tliketoloseanyofyouatthisstageoftheproceedings!Oh,dearme,no!’

Charlieglancedbackoverhisshoulderandsawthegreatironentrancegatesslowlyclosingbehindhim.Thecrowdson theoutsidewere stillpushingandshouting.Charlietooka last lookat them.Then,as thegatesclosedwithaclang,all sightof theoutsideworlddisappeared.

‘Hereweare!’criedMrWonka,trottingalonginfrontofthegroup.‘Throughthisbigreddoor,please!That’sright!It’sniceandwarminside!Ihavetokeepitwarminsidethefactorybecauseof theworkers!Myworkersareusedtoanextremelyhotclimate!Theycan’tstandthecold!They’dperishiftheywentoutdoorsinthisweather!They’dfreezetodeath!’

‘Butwhoaretheseworkers?’askedAugustusGloop.

‘Allingoodtime,mydearboy!’saidMrWonka,smilingatAugustus.‘Bepatient!Youshallseeeverythingaswegoalong!Areallofyouinside?Good!Wouldyoumindclosingthedoor?Thankyou!’

CharlieBucketfoundhimselfstandinginalongcorridorthatstretchedawayinfrontofhimasfarashecouldsee.Thecorridorwassowidethatacarcouldeasilyhavebeendrivenalongit.Thewallswerepalepink,thelightingwassoftandpleasant.

‘Howlovelyandwarm!’whisperedCharlie.

‘Iknow.Andwhatamarvelloussmell!’answeredGrandpaJoe, takinga longdeepsniff.Allthemostwonderfulsmellsintheworldseemedtobemixedupintheairaroundthem—thesmellofroastingcoffeeandburntsugarandmeltingchocolateandmintandvioletsandcrushedhazelnutsandappleblossomandcaramelandlemonpeel…

Andfarawayinthedistance,fromtheheartofthegreatfactory,cameamuffledroarof energy as though some monstrous gigantic machine were spinning its wheels atbreakneckspeed.

‘Nowthis,mydearchildren,’saidMrWonka,raisinghisvoiceabovethenoise,‘thisis themaincorridor.Willyoupleasehangyourcoatsandhatsonthosepegsover there,andthenfollowme.That’stheway!Good!Everyoneready?Comeon,then!Herewego!’He trottedoff rapidlydown the corridorwith the tails of his plum-colouredvelvet coatflappingbehindhim,andthevisitorsallhurriedafterhim.

Itwasquitealargepartyofpeople,whenyoucametothinkofit.Therewerenine

grown-upsand fivechildren, fourteen in all.Soyoucan imagine that therewasagooddealofpushingandshovingastheyhustledandbustleddownthepassage,tryingtokeepupwiththeswiftlittlefigureinfrontofthem.‘Comeon!’criedMrWonka.‘Getamoveon,please!We’llnevergetroundtodayifyoudawdlelikethis!’

Soon,heturnedrightoffthemaincorridorintoanotherslightlynarrowerpassage.

Thenheturnedleft.

Thenleftagain.

Thenright.

Thenleft.

Thenright.

Thenright.

Thenleft.

Theplacewaslikeagiganticrabbitwarren,withpassagesleadingthiswayandthatineverydirection.

‘Don’tyouletgomyhand,Charlie,’whisperedGrandpaJoe.

‘Noticehowall thesepassagesareslopingdownwards!’calledoutMrWonka.‘Wearenowgoingunderground!Allthemostimportantroomsinmyfactoryaredeepdownbelowthesurface!’

‘Whyisthat?’somebodyasked.

‘Therewouldn’tbenearlyenoughspaceforthemupontop!’answeredMrWonka.‘Theseroomswearegoingtoseeareenormous!They’re larger thanfootball fields!Nobuildingintheworldwouldbebigenoughtohousethem!Butdownhere,underneaththeground,I’vegotallthespaceIwant.There’snolimit—solongasIhollowitout.’

MrWonkaturnedright.

Heturnedleft.

Heturnedrightagain.

Thepassageswereslopingsteeperandsteeperdownhillnow.

Then suddenly,MrWonka stopped. In front of him, therewas a shinymetal door.Thepartycrowdedround.Onthedoor,inlargeletters,itsaid:

THECHOCOLATEROOM

15TheChocolateRoom

‘Animportantroom,this!’criedMrWonka,takingabunchofkeysfromhispocketand

slipping one into the keyhole of the door. ‘This is the nerve centre of the wholefactory,the

heart of the whole business! And so beautiful! I insist upon my rooms beingbeautiful!I

can’tabideuglinessinfactories!Inwego,then!Butdobecareful,mydearchildren!Don’t

loseyourheads!Don’tgetover-excited!Keepverycalm!’

MrWonkaopenedthedoor.Fivechildrenandninegrown-upspushedtheirwaysin—andoh,whatanamazingsightitwasthatnowmettheireyes!

Theywerelookingdownuponalovelyvalley.Thereweregreenmeadowsoneithersideofthevalley,andalongthebottomofitthereflowedagreatbrownriver.

What ismore, therewasa tremendouswaterfallhalfwayalong the river—asteepcliffoverwhichthewatercurledandrolledinasolidsheet,andthenwentcrashingdownintoaboilingchurningwhirlpooloffrothandspray.

Belowthewaterfall(andthiswasthemostastonishingsightofall),awholemassofenormousglasspipesweredanglingdownintotheriverfromsomewherehighupintheceiling!Theyreallywereenormous,thosepipes.Theremusthavebeenadozenofthematleast,andtheyweresuckingupthebrownishmuddywaterfromtheriverandcarryingitawaytogoodnessknowswhere.Andbecausetheyweremadeofglass,youcouldseetheliquidflowingandbubblingalonginsidethem,andabovethenoiseofthewaterfall,youcouldhearthenever-endingsuck-suck-suckingsoundofthepipesastheydidtheirwork.

Graceful trees and busheswere growing along the riverbanks—weepingwillowsandaldersandtallclumpsofrhododendronswiththeirpinkandredandmauveblossoms.Inthemeadowstherewerethousandsofbuttercups.

‘There!’criedMrWonka,dancingupanddownandpointinghisgold-toppedcaneatthegreatbrownriver.‘It’sallchocolate!Everydropofthatriverishotmeltedchocolateofthefinestquality.Theveryfinestquality.There’senoughchocolateintheretofilleverybathtub in theentirecountry!Andall theswimmingpoolsaswell! Isn’t it terrific?Andjustlookatmypipes!Theysuckupthechocolateandcarryitawaytoalltheotherroomsin the factory where it is needed! Thousands of gallons an hour, my dear children!Thousandsandthousandsofgallons!’

Thechildrenandtheirparentsweretooflabbergastedtospeak.Theywerestaggered.They were dumbfounded. They were bewildered and dazzled. They were completelybowledoverbythehugenessofthewholething.Theysimplystoodandstared.

‘Thewaterfall ismost important!’MrWonkawent on. ‘Itmixes the chocolate! Itchurnsitup!Itpoundsitandbeatsit!Itmakesitlightandfrothy!Nootherfactoryintheworldmixesitschocolatebywaterfall!Butit’stheonlywaytodoitproperly!Theonlyway!Anddoyoulikemytrees?’hecried,pointingwithhisstick.‘Andmylovelybushes?Don’tyouthinktheylookpretty?ItoldyouIhatedugliness!Andofcoursetheyarealleatable!Allmadeofsomethingdifferentanddelicious!Anddoyoulikemymeadows?Doyoulikemygrassandmybuttercups?Thegrassyouarestandingon,mydearlittleones,ismadeofanewkindofsoft,mintysugarthatI’vejustinvented!Icallitswudge!Tryablade!Pleasedo!It’sdelectable!’

Automatically, everybody bent down and picked one blade of grass— everybody,thatis,exceptAugustusGloop,whotookabighandful.

AndVioletBeauregarde,before tastingherbladeofgrass, tookthepieceofworld-record-breakingchewing-gumoutofhermouthandstuckitcarefullybehindherear.

‘Isn’titwonderful!’whisperedCharlie.‘Hasn’titgotawonderfultaste,Grandpa?’

‘I could eat thewhole field!’ saidGrandpa Joe, grinningwith delight. ‘I could goaroundonallfourslikeacowandeateverybladeofgrassinthefield!’

‘Tryabuttercup!’criedMrWonka.‘They’reevennicer!’

Suddenly, the air was filled with screams of excitement. The screams came fromVerucaSalt.Shewaspointingfranticallytotheothersideoftheriver.‘Look!Lookoverthere!’ shescreamed. ‘What is it?He’smoving!He’swalking! It’sa littleperson! It’salittleman!Downtherebelowthewaterfall!’

Everybodystoppedpickingbuttercupsandstaredacrosstheriver.

‘She’sright,Grandpa!’criedCharlie.‘Itisalittleman!Canyouseehim?’

‘Iseehim,Charlie!’saidGrandpaJoeexcitedly.

Andnoweverybodystartedshoutingatonce.

‘There’stwoofthem!’

‘Mygosh,sothereis!’

‘There’smorethantwo!There’sone,two,three,four,five!’

‘Whataretheydoing?’

‘Wheredotheycomefrom?’

‘Whoarethey?’

Childrenandparentsalikerusheddowntotheedgeoftherivertogetacloserlook.

‘Aren’ttheyfantastic!’

‘Nohigherthanmyknee!’

‘Lookattheirfunnylonghair!’

Thetinymen—theywerenolargerthanmedium-sizeddolls—hadstoppedwhattheyweredoing,andnowtheywerestaringbackacross theriverat thevisitors.Oneof

thempointedtowardsthechildren,andthenhewhisperedsomethingtotheotherfour,andallfiveofthemburstintopealsoflaughter.

‘Buttheycan’tberealpeople,’Charliesaid.

‘Ofcoursethey’rerealpeople,’MrWonkaanswered.‘They’reOompa-Loompas.’

16TheOompa-Loompas

‘Oompa-Loompas!’everyonesaidatonce.‘Oompa-Loompas!’

‘ImporteddirectfromLoompaland,’saidMrWonkaproudly.

‘There’snosuchplace,’saidMrsSalt.

‘Excuseme,dearlady,but…’

‘MrWonka,’criedMrsSalt.‘I’mateacherofgeography

‘Thenyou’llknowallaboutit,’saidMrWonka.‘Andoh,whataterriblecountryitis! Nothing but thick jungles infested by the most dangerous beasts in the world —hornswogglers and snozzwangers and those terrible wicked whangdoodles. AwhangdoodlewouldeattenOompa-Loompasforbreakfastandcomegallopingbackforasecondhelping.WhenIwentout there,I foundthe littleOompa-Loompaslivingin treehouses. They had to live in tree houses to escape from the whangdoodles and thehornswogglersandthesnozzwangers.Andtheywerelivingongreencaterpillars,andthecaterpillars tasted revolting,and theOompa-Loompasspenteverymomentof theirdaysclimbingthroughthetreetopslookingforotherthingstomashupwiththecaterpillarstomakethemtastebetter—redbeetles,forinstance,andeucalyptusleaves,andthebarkofthebong-bong tree,allof thembeastly,butnotquitesobeastlyas thecaterpillars.PoorlittleOompa-Loompas!Theone food that they longed formore than anyotherwas thecacaobean.But theycouldn’tget it.AnOompa-Loompawasluckyifhefoundthreeorfourcacaobeansayear.Butoh,howtheycravedthem.Theyusedtodreamaboutcacaobeansallnightandtalkaboutthemallday.Youhadonlytomentiontheword“cacao”toanOompa-Loompaandhewouldstartdribblingatthemouth.Thecacaobean,’MrWonkacontinued, ‘which grows on the cacao tree, happens to be the thing from which allchocolateismade.Youcannotmakechocolatewithoutthecacaobean.Thecacaobeanischocolate.Imyselfusebillionsofcacaobeanseveryweekinthisfactory.Andso,mydearchildren,assoonasIdiscoveredthattheOompa-Loompaswerecrazyaboutthisparticularfood,Iclimbeduptotheirtree-housevillageandpokedmyheadinthroughthedoorofthetreehousebelongingtotheleaderofthetribe.Thepoorlittlefellow,lookingthinandstarved,wassittingtheretryingtoeatabowlfullofmashed-upgreencaterpillarswithoutbeing sick. “Look here,” I said (speaking not in English, of course, but in Oompa-Loompish),“lookhere,ifyouandallyourpeoplewillcomebacktomycountryandliveinmyfactory,youcanhaveallthecacaobeansyouwant!I’vegotmountainsoftheminmystorehouses!Youcanhavecacaobeansforeverymeal!Youcangorgeyourselvessillyonthem!I’llevenpayyourwagesincacaobeansifyouwish!”

‘“Youreallymeanit?”askedtheOompa-Loompaleader,leapingupfromhischair.

‘“OfcourseImeanit,”Isaid.“Andyoucanhavechocolateaswell.Chocolatetastesevenbetterthancacaobeansbecauseit’sgotmilkandsugaradded.”

‘Thelittlemangaveagreatwhoopofjoyandthrewhisbowlofmashedcaterpillarsrightoutofthetree-housewindow.“It’sadeal!”hecried.“Comeon!Let’sgo!”

‘So I shipped them all over here, every man, woman, and child in the Oompa-Loompa tribe. It was easy. I smuggled them over in large packing caseswith holes inthem,and theyallgothere safely.Theyarewonderfulworkers.Theyall speakEnglishnow.Theylovedancingandmusic.Theyarealwaysmakingupsongs.Iexpectyouwillhearagooddealofsingingtodayfromtimetotime.Imustwarnyou,though,thattheyarerathermischievous.Theylikejokes.Theystillwearthesamekindofclothestheyworeinthejungle.Theyinsistuponthat.Themen,asyoucanseeforyourselvesacrosstheriver,wearonlydeerskins.Thewomenwear leaves,and thechildrenwearnothingatall.Thewomenusefreshleaveseveryday…’

‘Daddy!’ shoutedVerucaSalt (the girlwho got everything shewanted). ‘Daddy! IwantanOompa-Loompa! Iwantyou togetmeanOompa-Loompa! Iwant anOompa-Loomparightaway!Iwanttotakeithomewithme!Goon,Daddy!GetmeanOompa-Loompa!’

‘Now,now,mypet!’herfathersaidtoher,‘wemustn’tinterruptMrWonka.’“ButIwantanOompa-Loompa!’screamedVeruca.

‘Allright,Veruca,allright.ButIcan’tgetitforyouthissecond.Pleasebepatient.I’llseeyouhaveonebeforethedayisout.’

‘Augustus!’shoutedMrsGloop.‘Augustus,sweetheart,Idon’tthinkyouhadbetterdo that.’AugustusGloop, asyoumighthaveguessed,hadquietly sneakeddown to theedge of the river, and he was now kneeling on the riverbank, scooping hot meltedchocolateintohismouthasfastashecould.

17AugustusGloopGoesupthePipe

WhenMrWonka turned roundand sawwhatAugustusGloopwasdoing,he criedout,‘Oh,

no! Please, Augustus, please! I beg of you not to do that.My chocolate must beuntouched

byhumanhands!’

‘Augustus!’calledoutMrsGloop.‘Didn’tyouhearwhatthemansaid?Comeawayfromthatriveratonce!’

‘Thisstuffisfabulous!’saidAugustus,takingnottheslightestnoticeofhismotherorMrWonka.‘Gosh,Ineedabuckettodrinkitproperly!’

‘Augustus,’criedMrWonka,hoppingupanddownandwagglinghisstickintheair,‘youmustcomeaway.Youaredirtyingmychocolate!’

‘Augustus!’criedMrsGloop.‘Augustus!’criedMrGloop.

ButAugustuswasdeaf to everythingexcept the call ofhis enormous stomach.Hewasnowlyingfulllengthonthegroundwithhisheadfaroutovertheriver,lappingupthechocolatelikeadog.

‘Augustus!’shoutedMrsGloop.‘You’llbegivingthatnastycoldofyourstoaboutamillionpeoplealloverthecountry!’

‘Becareful,Augustus!’shoutedMrGloop.‘You’releaningtoofarout!’

MrGloopwasabsolutelyright.Forsuddenlytherewasashriek,andthenasplash,andintotheriverwentAugustusGloop,andinonesecondhehaddisappearedunderthebrownsurface.

‘Savehim!’screamedMrsGloop,goingwhiteintheface,andwavingherumbrellaabout.‘He’lldrown!Hecan’tswimayard!Savehim!Savehim!’

‘Goodheavens,woman,’saidMrGloop,‘I’mnotdivingin there!I’vegotmybestsuiton!’

AugustusGloop’sfacecameupagaintothesurface,paintedbrownwithchocolate.‘Help!Help!Help!’heyelled.‘Fishmeout!’

‘Don’tjuststandthere!’MrsGloopscreamedatMrGloop.‘Dosomething!’

‘I am doing something!’ said Mr Gloop, who was now taking off his jacket andgetting ready todive into thechocolate.Butwhilehewasdoing this, thewretchedboywasbeingsuckedcloserandclosertowardsthemouthofoneofthegreatpipesthatwasdangling down into the river. Then all at once, the powerful suction took hold of himcompletely,andhewaspulledunderthesurfaceandthenintothemouthofthepipe.

The crowd on the riverbankwaited breathlessly to seewhere hewould come out.‘Therehegoes!’somebodyshouted,pointingupwards.

And sure enough, because the pipe wasmade of glass, Augustus Gloop could beclearlyseenshootingupinsideit,headfirst,likeatorpedo.

‘Help!Murder!Police!’screamedMrsGloop.‘Augustus,comebackatonce!Whereareyougoing?’

‘It’s awonder tome,’ saidMrGloop, ‘how that pipe is big enough for him to gothroughit.’

‘Itisn’tbigenough!’saidCharlieBucket.‘Ohdear,look!He’sslowingdown!’

‘Soheis!’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘He’sgoingtostick!’saidCharlie.

‘Ithinkheis!’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘Bygolly,hehasstuck!’saidCharlie.

‘It’shisstomachthat’sdoneit!’saidMrGloop.

‘He’sblockedthewholepipe!’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘Smashthepipe!’yelledMrsGloop,stillwavingherumbrella.‘Augustus,comeoutofthereatonce!’

Thewatchersbelowcouldseethechocolateswishingaroundtheboyinthepipe,andtheycould see itbuildingupbehindhim ina solidmass,pushingagainst theblockage.Thepressurewasterrific.Somethinghadtogive.Somethingdidgive,andthatsomethingwasAugustus.WHOOF!Upheshotagainlikeabulletinthebarrelofagun.

‘He’sdisappeared!’yelledMrsGloop.‘Wheredoesthatpipegoto?Quick!Callthefirebrigade!’

‘Keep calm!’ criedMrWonka. ‘Keep calm,my dear lady, keep calm.There is nodanger!Nodangerwhatsoever!Augustushasgoneona little journey, that’sall.Amostinterestinglittlejourney.Buthe’llcomeoutofitjustfine,youwaitandsee.’

‘Howcanhepossiblycomeoutjustfine!’snappedMrsGloop.‘He’llbemadeintomarshmallowsinfiveseconds!’

‘Impossible!’criedMrWonka.‘Unthinkable!Inconceivable!Absurd!Hecouldneverbemadeintomarshmallows!’

‘Andwhynot,mayIask?’shoutedMrsGloop.

‘Becausethatpipedoesn’tgoanywherenearit!Thatpipe—theoneAugustuswentup — happens to lead directly to the room where I make a most delicious kind ofstrawberry-flavouredchocolate-coatedfudge…’

‘Then he’ll be made into strawberry-flavoured chocolate-coated fudge!’ screamedMrsGloop.‘MypoorAugustus!They’llbesellinghimbythepoundalloverthecountrytomorrowmorning!’

‘Quiteright,’saidMrGloop.

‘IknowI’mright,’saidMrsGloop.

‘It’sbeyondajoke,’saidMrGloop.

‘MrWonka doesn’t seem to think so!’ cried Mrs Gloop. ‘Just look at him! He’slaughinghisheadoff!Howdareyoulaughlikethatwhenmyboy’sjustgoneupthepipe!Youmonster!’sheshrieked,pointingherumbrellaatMrWonkaasthoughsheweregoingtorunhimthrough.‘Youthinkit’sajoke,doyou?YouthinkthatsuckingmyboyupintoyourFudgeRoomlikethatisjustonegreatbigcolossaljoke?’

‘He’llbeperfectlysafe,’saidMrWonka,gigglingslightly.

‘He’llbechocolatefudge!’shriekedMrsGloop.

‘Never!’criedMrWonka.

‘Ofcoursehewill!’shriekedMrsGloop.

‘Iwouldn’tallowit!’criedMrWonka.

‘Andwhynot?’shriekedMrsGloop.

‘Because the tastewould be terrible,’ saidMrWonka. ‘Just imagine it!Augustus-flavouredchocolate-coatedGloop!Noonewouldbuyit.’

‘They most certainly would!’ cried Mr Gloop indignantly. ‘I don’t want to thinkaboutit!’shriekedMrsGloop.

‘NordoI,’saidMrWonka.‘AndIdopromiseyou,madam,thatyourdarlingboyisperfectlysafe.’

‘Ifhe’sperfectlysafe,thenwhereishe?’snappedMrsGloop.‘Leadmetohimthisinstant!’

MrWonka turned around and clicked his fingers sharply, click, click, click, threetimes. Immediately, anOompa-Loompaappeared, as if fromnowhere, and stoodbesidehim.

TheOompa-Loompabowedandsmiled,showingbeautifulwhiteteeth.Hisskinwasrosy-white,hislonghairwasgolden-brown,andthetopofhisheadcamejustabovetheheightofMrWonka’sknee.Heworetheusualdeerskinslungoverhisshoulder.

‘Now listen tome!’ saidMrWonka, lookingdownat the tinyman. ‘Iwantyou totakeMrandMrsGloopuptotheFudgeRoomandhelpthemtofindtheirson,Augustus.He’sjustgoneupthepipe.’

TheOompa-LoompatookonelookatMrsGloopandexplodedintopealsoflaughter.

‘Oh, do be quiet!’ saidMrWonka. ‘Control yourself! Pull yourself together!MrsGloopdoesn’tthinkit’satallfunny!’

‘Youcansaythatagain!’saidMrsGloop.

‘GostraighttotheFudgeRoom,’MrWonkasaidtotheOompa-Loompa,‘andwhenyouget there, takea longstickandstartpokingaround inside thebigchocolate-mixingbarrel. I’m almost certain you’ll find him in there.But you’d better look sharp!You’llhavetohurry!Ifyouleavehiminthechocolate-mixingbarreltoolong,he’sliabletogetpouredoutintothefudgeboiler,andthatreallywouldbeadisaster,wouldn’tit?Myfudge

wouldbecomequiteuneatable!’

MrsGloopletoutashriekoffury.

‘I’m joking,’ saidMrWonka, gigglingmadly behind his beard. ‘I didn’t mean it.Forgiveme.I’msosorry.Good-bye,MrsGloop!AndMrGloop!Good-bye!I’llseeyoulater…’

AsMrandMrsGloopandtheirtinyescorthurriedaway,thefiveOompa-Loompasonthefarsideoftheriversuddenlybeganhoppinganddancingaboutandbeatingwildlyuponanumberofverysmalldrums.‘AugustusGloop!’ theychanted.‘AugustusGloop!AugustusGloop!AugustusGloop!’

‘Grandpa!’criedCharlie.‘Listentothem,Grandpa!Whataretheydoing?’

‘Ssshh!’whisperedGrandpaJoe.‘Ithinkthey’regoingtosingusasong!’

‘AugustusGloop!’chantedtheOompa-Loompas.

‘AugustusGloop!AugustusGloop!Thegreatbiggreedynincompoop!HowlongcouldweallowthisbeastTogorgeandguzzle,feedandfeastOneverythinghewantedto?GreatScott!Itsimplywouldn’tdo!Howeverlongthispigmightlive,We’repositivehe’dnevergiveEventhesmallestbitoffunOrhappinesstoanyone.SowhatwedoincasessuchAsthis,weusethegentletouch,AndcarefullywetakethebratAndturnhimintosomethingthatWillgivegreatpleasuretousall—Adoll,forinstance,oraball,Ormarblesorarockinghorse.Butthisrevoltingboy,ofcourse,Wassounutterablyvile,Sogreedy,foul,andinfantile,HeleftamostdisgustingtasteInsideourmouths,andsoinhasteWechoseathingthat,comewhatmay,Wouldtakethenastytasteaway.“Comeon!”wecried.“ThetimeisripeTosendhimshootingupthepipe!Hehastogo!Ithastobe!”Andverysoon,he’sgoingtoseeInsidetheroomtowhichhe’sgoneSomefunnythingsaregoingon.Butdon’t,dearchildren,bealarmed;

AugustusGloopwillnotbeharmed,Although,ofcourse,wemustadmitHewillbealteredquiteabit.He’llbequitechangedfromwhathe’sbeen,Whenhegoesthroughthefudgemachine:Slowly,thewheelsgoroundandround,Thecogsbegintogrindandpound;Ahundredknivesgoslice,slice,slice;Weaddsomesugar,cream,andspice;Weboilhimforaminutemore,Untilwe’reabsolutelysureThatallthegreedandallthegallIsboiledawayforonceandall.Thenouthecomes!Andnow!Bygrace!Amiraclehastakenplace!Thisboy,whoonlyjustbeforeWasloathedbymenfromshoretoshore,Thisgreedybrute,thislouse’sear,Islovedbypeopleeverywhere!ForwhocouldhateorbearagrudgeAgainstalusciousbitoffudge?’

‘Itoldyoutheylovedsinging!’criedMrWonka.‘Aren’ttheydelightful?Aren’ttheycharming?Butyoumustn’tbelieveawordtheysaid.It’sallnonsense,everybitofit!’

‘AretheOompa-Loompasreallyjoking,Grandpa?’askedCharlie.

‘Ofcoursethey’rejoking,’answeredGrandpaJoe.‘Theymustbejoking.Atleast,Ihopethey’rejoking.Don’tyou?’

18DowntheChocolateRiver

‘Offwego!’criedMrWonka.‘Hurryup,everybody!Followmeto thenext room!And

pleasedon’tworryaboutAugustusGloop.He’sboundtocomeoutinthewash.They

always do.We shall have tomake the next part of the journey by boat!Here shecomes!

Look!’

Asteamymistwasrisingupnowfromthegreatwarmchocolateriver,andoutofthemistthereappearedsuddenlyamostfantasticpinkboat.Itwasalargeopenrowboatwitha tall front and a tall back (like a Viking boat of old), and it was of such a shiningsparkling glistening pink colour that thewhole thing looked as though itweremadeofbright,pinkglass.Thereweremanyoarsoneithersideofit,andastheboatcamecloser,the watchers on the riverbank could see that the oars were being pulled by masses ofOompa-Loompas—atleasttenofthemtoeachoar.

‘Thisismyprivateyacht!’criedMrWonka,beamingwithpleasure.‘Imadeherbyhollowingoutanenormousboiledsweet!Isn’tshebeautiful!Seehowshecomescuttingthroughtheriver!’

The gleaming pink boiled-sweet boat glided up to the riverbank. One hundredOompa-Loompas rested on their oars and stared up at the visitors. Then suddenly, forsomereasonbestknowntothemselves,theyallburstintoshrieksoflaughter.

‘What’ssofunny?’askedVioletBeauregarde.

‘Oh, don’t worry about them!’ cried MrWonka. ‘They’re always laughing! Theythinkeverything’sacolossaljoke!Jumpintotheboat,allofyou!Comeon!Hurryup!’

Assoonaseveryonewassafelyin,theOompa-Loompaspushedtheboatawayfromthebankandbegantorowswiftlydownriver.

‘Hey,there!MikeTeavee!’shoutedMrWonka.‘Pleasedonotlicktheboatwithyourtongue!It’llonlymakeitsticky!’

‘Daddy,’saidVerucaSalt,‘Iwantaboatlikethis!Iwantyoutobuymeabigpinkboiled-sweetboatexactly likeMrWonka’s!AndIwant lotsofOompa-Loompas torowmeabout,andIwantachocolateriverandIwant…Iwant…’

‘Shewantsagoodkickinthepants,’whisperedGrandpaJoetoCharlie.TheoldmanwassittinginthebackoftheboatandlittleCharlieBucketwasrightbesidehim.Charliewas holding tightly on to his grandfather’s bony old hand. He was in a whirl ofexcitement.Everythingthathehadseensofar—thegreatchocolateriver,thewaterfall,the huge sucking pipes, the minty sugar meadows, the Oompa-Loompas, the beautifulpinkboat,andmostofall,MrWillyWonkahimself—hadbeensoastonishing thathebegan to wonder whether there could possibly be anymore astonishments left.Where

weretheygoingnow?Whatweretheygoingtosee?Andwhatintheworldwasgoingtohappeninthenextroom?

‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ said Grandpa Joe, grinning at Charlie. Charlie nodded andsmiledupattheoldman.

Suddenly,MrWonka,whowassittingonCharlie’sotherside,reacheddownintothebottomoftheboat,pickedupalargemug,dippeditintotheriver,filleditwithchocolate,and handed it toCharlie. ‘Drink this,’ he said. ‘It’ll do you good!You look starved todeath!’

ThenMrWonkafilledasecondmugandgaveittoGrandpaJoe.‘You,too,’hesaid.‘You look likea skeleton!What’s thematter?Hasn’t therebeenanything toeat inyourhouselately?’

‘Notmuch,’saidGrandpaJoe.

Charlieputthemugtohislips,andastherichwarmcreamychocolaterandownhisthroat into his empty tummy, his whole body from head to toe began to tingle withpleasure,andafeelingofintensehappinessspreadoverhim.

‘Youlikeit?’askedMrWonka.

‘Oh,it’swonderful!’Charliesaid.

‘ThecreamiestloveliestchocolateI’veevertasted!’saidGrandpaJoe,smackinghislips.

‘That’sbecauseit’sbeenmixedbywaterfall,’MrWonkatoldhim.

Theboat spedondown the river.The riverwasgettingnarrower.Therewas somekindofadarktunnelahead—agreatroundtunnelthatlookedlikeanenormouspipe—andtheriverwasrunningrightintothetunnel.Andsowastheboat!‘Rowon!’shoutedMrWonka,jumpingupandwavinghisstickintheair.‘Fullspeedahead!’AndwiththeOompa-Loompasrowingfasterthanever,theboatshotintothepitch-darktunnel,andallthepassengersscreamedwithexcitement.

‘How can they see where they’re going?’ shrieked Violet Beauregarde in thedarkness. ‘There’s no knowing where they’re going!’ cried Mr Wonka, hooting withlaughter.

‘There’snoearthlywayofknowingWhichdirectiontheyaregoing!There’snoknowingwherethey’rerowing,Orwhichwaytheriver’sflowing!Notaspeckoflightisshowing,Sothedangermustbegrowing,Fortherowerskeeponrowing,Andthey’recertainlynotshowingAnysignsthattheyareslowing…’

‘He’sgoneoffhisrocker!’shoutedoneof thefathers,aghast,andtheotherparents

joinedinthechorusoffrightenedshouting.‘He’scrazy!’theyshouted.

‘He’sbalmy!’‘He’snutty!’‘He’sscrewy!’‘He’sbatty!’

‘He’sdippy!’

‘He’sdotty!’

‘He’sdaffy!’

‘He’sgoofy!’

‘He’sbeany!’

‘He’sbuggy!’

‘He’swacky!’

‘He’sloony!’

‘No,heisnot!’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘Switchonthelights!’shoutedMrWonka.Andsuddenly,oncamethelightsandthewhole tunnelwasbrilliantly litup,andCharliecouldsee that theywere indeed insideagigantic pipe, and the great upward-curving walls of the pipe were pure white andspotlessly clean. The river of chocolate was flowing very fast inside the pipe, and theOompa-Loompaswereallrowinglikemad,andtheboatwasrocketingalongatafuriouspace.MrWonkawas jumping up and down in the back of the boat and calling to therowerstorowfasterandfasterstill.Heseemedtolovethesensationofwhizzingthroughawhitetunnelinapinkboatonachocolateriver,andheclappedhishandsandlaughedandkeptglancingathispassengerstoseeiftheywereenjoyingitasmuchashe.

‘Look,Grandpa!’criedCharlie.‘There’sadoorinthewall!’Itwasagreendooranditwassetintothewallofthetunneljustabovetheleveloftheriver.Astheyflashedpastittherewasjustenoughtimetoreadthewritingonthedoor:STOREROOMNUMBER54,itsaid. ALL THE CREAMS — DAIRY CREAM, WHIPPED CREAM, VIOLET CREAM,COFFEECREAM,PINEAPPLECREAM,VANILLACREAM,ANDHAIRCREAM.

‘Haircream?’criedMikeTeavee.‘Youdon’tusehaircream?’

‘Rowon!’shoutedMrWonka.‘There’snotimetoanswersillyquestions!’

Theystreakedpastablackdoor.STOREROOMNUMBER71,itsaidonit.WHIPS—ALLSHAPESANDSIZES.

‘Whips!’criedVerucaSalt.‘Whatonearthdoyouusewhipsfor?’

‘Forwhippingcream,ofcourse,’saidMrWonka.‘Howcanyouwhipcreamwithoutwhips?Whippedcreamisn’twhippedcreamatallunless it’sbeenwhippedwithwhips.Justasapoachedegg isn’tapoachedeggunless it’sbeenstolenfromthewoods in thedeadofnight!

Rowon,please!’

They passed a yellow door onwhich it said: STOREROOMNUMBER 77—ALLTHEBEANS,CACAOBEANS,COFFEEBEANS,JELLYBEANS,ANDHASBEANS.

‘Hasbeans?’criedVioletBeauregarde.

‘You’reoneyourself!’saidMrWonka.‘There’snotimeforarguing!Presson,presson!’But five seconds later,when a bright red door came into sight ahead, he suddenlywavedhisgold-toppedcaneintheairandshouted,‘Stoptheboat!’

19TheInventingRoom—

EverlastingGobstoppersandHairToffee

WhenMrWonka shouted ‘Stop the boat!’ theOompa-Loompas jammed their oarsintothe

riverandbackedwaterfuriously.Theboatstopped.

TheOompa-Loompas guided the boat alongside the red door.On the door it said,INVENTINGROOM—PRIVATE—KEEPOUT.MrWonkatookakeyfromhispocket,leanedoverthesideoftheboat,andputthekeyinthekeyhole.

‘Thisisthemostimportantroomintheentirefactory!’hesaid.‘Allmymostsecretnewinventionsarecookingandsimmeringinhere!OldFickelgruberwouldgivehisfrontteethtobeallowedinsidejustforthreeminutes!SowouldProdnoseandSlugworthandall the other rotten chocolatemakers! But now, listen tome! I want nomessing aboutwhenyougoin!Notouching,nomeddling,andnotasting!Isthatagreed?’

‘Yes,yes!’thechildrencried.‘Wewon’ttouchathing!’

‘Up tonow,’MrWonka said, ‘nobodyelse, not evenanOompa-Loompa,has everbeenallowedinhere!’Heopenedthedoorandsteppedoutoftheboatintotheroom.Thefourchildrenandtheirparentsallscrambledafterhim.

‘Don’ttouch!’shoutedMrWonka.‘Anddon’tknockanythingover!’

CharlieBucketstaredaroundthegiganticroominwhichhenowfoundhimself.Theplace was like a witch’s kitchen! All about him black metal pots were boiling andbubblingonhugestoves,andkettleswerehissingandpansweresizzling,andstrangeironmachineswereclankingandspluttering,andtherewerepipesrunningallovertheceilingandwalls,andthewholeplacewasfilledwithsmokeandsteamanddeliciousrichsmells.

MrWonkahimselfhadsuddenlybecomeevenmoreexcitedthanusual,andanyonecouldsee that thiswas the roomhe lovedbestofall.Hewashoppingaboutamong thesaucepans and the machines like a child among his Christmas presents, not knowingwhich thing to look at first.He lifted the lid fromahugepot and took a sniff; thenherushedoveranddippedafingerintoabarrelofstickyyellowstuffandhadataste;thenheskippedacross tooneof themachinesand turnedhalfadozenknobs thiswayand that;thenhepeeredanxiouslythroughtheglassdoorofagiganticoven,rubbinghishandsandcacklingwithdelightatwhathesawinside.Thenheranovertoanothermachine,asmallshinyaffairthatkeptgoingphut-phut-phut-phut-phut,andeverytimeitwentphut,alargegreenmarbledroppedoutofitintoabasketonthefloor.Atleastitlookedlikeamarble.

‘EverlastingGobstoppers!’criedMrWonkaproudly.‘They’recompletelynew!Iaminventing them for children who are given very little pocket money. You can put anEverlastingGobstopper inyourmouthandyoucansuck it andsuck it andsuck it andsuckitanditwillnevergetanysmaller!’

‘It’slikegum!’criedVioletBeauregarde.

‘Itisnotlikegum,’MrWonkasaid.‘Gumisforchewing,andifyoutriedchewingoneoftheseGobstoppershereyou’dbreakyourteethoff!Andtheynevergetanysmaller!Theyneverdisappear!NEVER!AtleastIdon’tthinktheydo.There’soneofthembeingtestedthisverymomentintheTestingRoomnextdoor.AnOompa-Loompaissuckingit.He’sbeensuckingitforverynearlyayearnowwithoutstopping,andit’sstilljustasgoodasever!

‘Now, over here,’ MrWonka went on, skipping excitedly across the room to theoppositewall, ‘over here I am inventing a completely new line in toffees!’He stoppedbesidealargesaucepan.Thesaucepanwasfullofathickgooeypurplishtreacle,boilingandbubbling.Bystandingonhistoes,littleCharliecouldjustseeinsideit.

‘That’s Hair Toffee!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘You eat just one tiny bit of that, and inexactly half an hour a brand-new luscious thick silky beautiful crop of hair will startgrowingoutalloverthetopofyourhead!Andamoustache!Andabeard!’

‘Abeard!’criedVerucaSalt.‘Whowantsabeard,forheaven’ssake?’

‘Itwouldsuityouverywell,’saidMrWonka,‘butunfortunately themixture isnotquite rightyet. I’vegot it toostrong. Itworks toowell. I tried itonanOompa-LoompayesterdayintheTestingRoomandimmediatelyahugeblackbeardstartedshootingoutofhischin,andthebeardgrewsofast thatsoonitwastrailingalloverthefloorina thickhairycarpet.Itwasgrowingfasterthanwecouldcutit!Intheendwehadtousealawnmowertokeepitincheck!ButI’llgetthemixturerightsoon!AndwhenIdo,thenthere’llbenoexcuseanymoreforlittleboysandgirlsgoingaboutwithbaldheads!’

‘ButMrWonka,’saidMikeTeavee,‘littleboysandgirlsneverdogoaboutwith…’

‘Don’targue,mydearchild,pleasedon’targue!’criedMrWonka.‘It’ssuchawasteofprecioustime!Now,overhere,ifyouwillallstepthisway,IwillshowyousomethingthatIamterrificallyproudof.Oh,dobecareful!Don’tknockanythingover!Standback!’

20TheGreatGumMachine

MrWonkaledthepartyovertoagiganticmachinethatstoodintheverycentreofthe

InventingRoom.Itwasamountainofgleamingmetal that toweredhighabove thechildren

andtheirparents.Outoftheverytopofittheresproutedhundredsandhundredsofthin

glasstubes,andtheglasstubesallcurleddownwardsandcametogetherinabunchand

hungsuspendedoveranenormousroundtubasbigasabath.

‘Herewego!’criedMrWonka,andhepressedthreedifferentbuttonsonthesideofthemachine.Asecondlater,amightyrumblingsoundcamefrominsideit,andthewholemachinebegantoshakemostfrighteningly,andsteambeganhissingoutofitallover,andthensuddenly thewatchersnoticed that runnystuffwaspouringdownthe insidesofallthehundredsoflittleglasstubesandsquirtingoutintothegreattubbelow.Andineverysingletubetherunnystuffwasofadifferentcolour,sothatallthecoloursoftherainbow(andmanyothersaswell)camesloshingandsplashingintothetub.Itwasalovelysight.Andwhenthetubwasnearlyfull,MrWonkapressedanotherbutton,andimmediatelytherunny stuff disappeared, and awhizzingwhirring noise took its place; and then a giantwhizzer started whizzing round inside the enormous tub, mixing up all the differentcolouredliquidslikeanice-creamsoda.Gradually,themixturebegantofroth.Itbecamefrothierand frothier, and it turned fromblue towhite togreen tobrown toyellow, thenbacktoblueagain.

‘Watch!’saidMrWonka.

Clickwent themachine,and thewhizzerstoppedwhizzing.Andnowtherecameasortofsuckingnoise,andveryquicklyallthebluefrothymixtureinthehugebasinwassuckedbackintothestomachofthemachine.Therewasamomentofsilence.Thenafewqueer rumblingswere heard. Then silence again. Then suddenly, themachine let out amonstrous mighty groan, and at the same moment a tiny drawer (no bigger than thedrawerinaslotmachine)poppedoutofthesideofthemachine,andinthedrawertherelaysomethingsosmallandthinandgreythateveryonethoughtitmustbeamistake.Thethinglookedlikealittlestripofgreycardboard.

Thechildrenandtheirparentsstaredatthelittlegreystriplyinginthedrawer.

‘Youmeanthat’sall?’saidMikeTeavee,disgusted.

‘That’sall,’answeredMrWonka,gazingproudlyattheresult.‘Don’tyouknowwhatitis?’

Therewasapause.Thensuddenly,VioletBeauregarde, thesillygum-chewinggirl,let out a yell of excitement. ‘Bygum, it’s gum!’ she shrieked. ‘It’s a stick of chewing-gum!’

‘Rightyouare!’ criedMrWonka, slappingViolethardon theback. ‘It’s a stickofgum!It’sastickofthemostamazingandfabulousandsensationalgumintheworld!’

21Good-byeViolet

‘This gum,’ Mr Wonka went on, ‘is my latest, my greatest, my most fascinatinginvention!

It’sachewing-gummeal!It’s…it’s…it’s…Thattinylittlestripofgumlyingthereisa

wholethree-coursedinnerallbyitself!’

‘Whatsortofnonsenseisthis?’saidoneofthefathers.

‘My dear sir!’ criedMrWonka, ‘when I start selling this gum in the shops itwillchange everything! Itwill be the end of all kitchens and all cooking!Therewill be nomoreshoppingtodo!Nomorebuyingofmeatandgroceries!There’llbenoknivesandforksatmealtimes!Noplates!Nowashingup!Norubbish!Nomess!JustalittlestripofWonka’smagicchewing-gum—and that’s allyou’ll everneedatbreakfast, lunch, andsupper! This piece of gum I’ve just made happens to be tomato soup, roast beef, andblueberrypie,butyoucanhavealmostanythingyouwant!’

‘What do you mean, it’s tomato soup, roast beef, and blueberry pie?’ said VioletBeauregarde.

‘Ifyouweretostartchewingit,’saidMrWonka,‘thenthatisexactlywhatyouwouldgetonthemenu.It’sabsolutelyamazing!Youcanactuallyfeelthefoodgoingdownyourthroatandintoyourtummy!Andyoucantasteitperfectly!Anditfillsyouup!Itsatisfiesyou!It’sterrific!’

‘It’sutterlyimpossible,’saidVerucaSalt.

‘Justsolongasit’sgum,’shoutedVioletBeauregarde,‘justsolongasit’sapieceofgumandIcanchewit, then that’s forme!’Andquicklyshe tookherownworld-recordpieceof chewing-gumoutofhermouthand stuck it behindher left ear. ‘Comeon,MrWonka,’shesaid,‘handoverthismagicgumofyoursandwe’llseeifthethingworks.’

‘Now, Violet,’ said Mrs Beauregarde, her mother; ‘don’t let’s do anything silly,Violet.’‘Iwantthegum!’Violetsaidobstinately.‘What’ssosilly?’

‘Iwouldratheryoudidn’ttakeit,’MrWonkatoldhergently.‘Yousee,Ihaven’tgotitquiterightyet.Therearestilloneortwothings…’

‘Oh,toblazeswiththat!’saidViolet,andsuddenly,beforeMrWonkacouldstopher,sheshotoutafathandandgrabbedthestickofgumoutofthelittledrawerandpoppeditintohermouth.Atonce,herhuge,well-trainedjawsstartedchewingawayonitlikeapairoftongs.

‘Don’t!’saidMrWonka.

‘Fabulous!’shoutedViolet.‘It’stomatosoup!It’shotandcreamyanddelicious!Icanfeelitrunningdownmythroat!’

‘Stop!’saidMrWonka.‘Thegumisn’treadyyet!It’snotright!’

‘Ofcourseit’sright!’saidViolet.‘It’sworkingbeautifully!Ohmy,whatlovelysoupthisis!’

‘Spititout!’saidMrWonka.

‘It’s changing!’ shoutedViolet, chewing and grinning both at the same time. ‘Thesecondcourseiscomingup!It’sroastbeef!It’stenderandjuicy!Ohboy,whataflavour!Thebakedpotato ismarvellous, too! It’s got a crispy skin and it’s all filledwithbutterinside!’

‘Buthowin-teresting,Violet,’saidMrsBeauregarde.‘Youareaclevergirl.’

‘Keepchewing,baby!’saidMrBeauregarde.‘Keeprightonchewing!ThisisagreatdayfortheBeauregardes!Ourlittlegirlisthefirstpersonintheworldtohaveachewing-gummeal!’

Everybody was watching Violet Beauregarde as she stood there chewing thisextraordinary gum. Little Charlie Bucket was staring at her absolutely spellbound,watching her huge rubbery lips as they pressed and unpressed with the chewing, andGrandpaJoestoodbesidehim,gapingatthegirl.MrWonkawaswringinghishandsandsaying,‘No,no,no,no,no!Itisn’treadyforeating!Itisn’tright!Youmustn’tdoit!’

‘Blueberrypieandcream!’shoutedViolet. ‘Here itcomes!Ohmy, it’sperfect! It’sbeautiful!It’s…it’sexactlyasthoughI’mswallowingit!It’sasthoughI’mchewingandswallowinggreatbigspoonfulsofthemostmarvellousblueberrypieintheworld!’

‘Goodheavens,girl!’shriekedMrsBeauregardesuddenly,staringatViolet,‘what’shappeningtoyournose!’

‘Oh,bequiet,mother,andletmefinish!’saidViolet.

‘It’s turning blue!’ screamed Mrs Beauregarde. ‘Your nose is turning blue as ablueberry!’‘Yourmother is right!’shoutedMrBeauregarde. ‘Yourwholenosehasgonepurple!’‘Whatdoyoumean?’saidViolet,stillchewingaway.

‘Yourcheeks!’screamedMrsBeauregarde.‘They’returningblueaswell!Soisyourchin!Yourwholefaceisturningblue!’

‘Spitthatgumoutatonce!’orderedMrBeauregarde.

‘Mercy!Saveus!’yelledMrsBeauregarde.‘Thegirl’sgoingblueandpurpleallover!Evenherhairischangingcolour!Violet,you’returningviolet,Violet!Whatishappeningtoyou?’

‘ItoldyouIhadn’tgotitquiteright,’sighedMrWonka,shakinghisheadsadly.‘I’llsayyouhaven’t!’criedMrsBeauregarde.‘Justlookatthegirlnow!’

Everybodywas staring atViolet.Andwhat a terrible, peculiar sight shewas!Herfaceandhandsandlegsandneck,infacttheskinalloverherbody,aswellashergreatbigmopofcurlyhair,hadturnedabrilliant,purplish-blue,thecolourofblueberryjuice!

‘It always goeswrongwhenwe come to the dessert,’ sighedMrWonka. ‘It’s theblueberrypiethatdoesit.ButI’llgetitrightoneday,youwaitandsee.’

‘Violet,’screamedMrsBeauregarde,‘you’reswellingup!’

‘Ifeelsick,’Violetsaid.

‘You’reswellingup!’screamedMrsBeauregardeagain.

‘Ifeelmostpeculiar!’gaspedViolet.

‘I’mnotsurprised!’saidMrBeauregarde.

‘Great heavens, girl!’ screeched Mrs Beauregarde. ‘You’re blowing up like aballoon!’

‘Likeablueberry,’saidMrWonka.

‘Calladoctor!’shoutedMrBeauregarde.

‘Prickherwithapin!’saidoneoftheotherfathers.

‘Saveher!’criedMrsBeauregarde,wringingherhands.

Buttherewasnosavinghernow.Herbodywasswellingupandchangingshapeatsucha rate thatwithinaminute ithad turned intonothing less thananenormous roundblueball—agiganticblueberry, infact—andall thatremainedofVioletBeauregardeherselfwasatinypairoflegsandatinypairofarmsstickingoutofthegreatroundfruitandlittleheadontop.

‘It always happens like that,’ sighedMrWonka. ‘I’ve tried it twenty times in theTesting Room on twenty Oompa-Loompas, and every one of them finished up as ablueberry.It’smostannoying.Ijustcan’tunderstandit.’

‘ButIdon’twantablueberryforadaughter!’yelledMrsBeauregarde.‘Putherbacktowhatshewasthisinstant!’

MrWonkaclickedhisfingers,andtenOompa-Loompasappearedimmediatelyathisside.

‘RollMissBeauregarde into the boat,’ he said to them, ‘and take her along to theJuicingRoomatonce.’

‘The Juicing Room?’ cried Mrs Beauregarde. ‘What are they going to do to herthere?’

‘Squeeze her,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘We’ve got to squeeze the juice out of herimmediately.After that,we’ll justhave toseehowshecomesout.Butdon’tworry,mydearMrsBeauregarde.We’llgetherrepairedifit’sthelastthingwedo.Iamsorryaboutitall,Ireallyam…’

Already the ten Oompa-Loompas were rolling the enormous blueberry across theflooroftheInventingRoomtowardsthedoorthatledtothechocolateriverwheretheboatwaswaiting.MrandMrsBeauregardehurriedafterthem.Therestoftheparty,includinglittleCharlieBucketandGrandpaJoe,stoodabsolutelystillandwatchedthemgo.

‘Listen!’ whispered Charlie. ‘Listen, Grandpa! The Oompa-Loompas in the boatoutsidearestartingtosing!’

Thevoices,onehundredofthemsingingtogether,cameloudandclearintotheroom:

‘Dearfriends,wesurelyallagreeThere’salmostnothingworsetoseeThansomerepulsivelittlebumWho’salwayschewingchewing-gum.(It’sverynearasbadasthoseWhositaroundandpickthenose.)SopleasebelieveuswhenwesayThatchewinggumwillneverpay;Thisstickyhabit’sboundtosendThechewertoastickyend.DidanyofyoueverknowApersoncalledMissBigelow?ThisdreadfulwomansawnowrongInchewing,chewingalldaylong.Shechewedwhilebathinginthetub,Shechewedwhiledancingatherclub,Shechewedinchurchandonthebus;Itreallywasquiteludicrous!Andwhenshecouldn’tfindhergum,She’dchewupthelinoleum,Oranythingthathappenednear—Apairofboots,thepostman’sear,Orotherpeople’sunderclothes,Andonceshechewedherboy-friend’snose.Shewentonchewingtill,atlast,HerchewingmusclesgrewsovastThatfromherfacehergiantchinStuckoutjustlikeaviolin.Foryearsandyearsshechewedaway,Consumingfiftybitsaday,Untilonesummer’seve,alas,Ahorridbusinesscametopass.MissBigelowwentlatetobed,Forhalfanhourshelayandread,ChewingandchewingallthewhileLikesomegreatclockworkcrocodile.Atlast,sheputhergumawayUponaspeciallittletray,Andsettledbackandwenttosleep—(Shemanagedthisbycountingsheep).Butnow,howstrange!Althoughsheslept,ThosemassivejawsofhersstillkeptOnchewing,chewingthroughthenight,Evenwithnothingtheretobite.Theywere,yousee,insuchagrooveTheypositivelyhadtomove.

AndverygrimitwastohearInpitchydarkness,loudandclear,Thissleepingwoman’sgreatbigtrapOpeningandshutting,snap-snap-snap!Fasterandfaster,chop-chop-chop,Thenoisewenton,itwouldn’tstop.UntilatlastherjawsdecideTopauseandopenextrawide,AndwiththemosttremendouschewTheybitthelady’stongueintwo.Thereafter,justfromchewinggum,MissBigelowwasalwaysdumb,AndspentherlifeshutupinsomeDisgustingsanatorium.Andthatiswhywe’lltrysohardTosaveMissVioletBeauregardeFromsufferinganequalfate.She’sstillquiteyoung.It’snottoolate,Providedshesurvivesthecure.Wehopeshedoes.Wecan’tbesure.’

22AlongtheCorridor

‘Well,well,well,’sighedMrWillyWonka,‘twonaughtylittlechildrengone.Threegood

little children left. I thinkwe’d better get out of this roomquickly beforewe loseanyone

else!’

‘ButMrWonka,’saidCharlieBucketanxiously,‘willVioletBeauregardeeverbeallrightagainorwillshealwaysbeablueberry?’

‘They’llde-juiceherinnotimeflat!’declaredMrWonka.‘They’llrollherintothede-juicingmachine,andshe’llcomeoutjustasthinasawhistle!’

‘Butwillshestillbeblueallover?’askedCharlie.

‘She’llbepurple?criedMrWonka.‘Afinerichpurplefromheadtotoe!But thereyouare!That’swhatcomesfromchewingdisgustinggumalldaylong!’

‘Ifyouthinkgumissodisgusting,’saidMikeTeavee,‘thenwhydoyoumakeitinyourfactory?’

‘I do wish you wouldn’t mumble,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘I can’t hear a word you’resaying.Comeon!Offwego!Hurryup!Followme!We’regoingintothecorridorsagain!’Andsosaying,MrWonkascuttledacrosstothefarendoftheInventingRoomandwentout through a small secret door hidden behind a lot of pipes and stoves. The threeremainingchildren—VerucaSalt,MikeTeavee,andCharlieBucket—togetherwiththefiveremaininggrown-ups,followedafterhim.

CharlieBucketsawthattheywerenowbackinoneofthoselongpinkcorridorswithmanyotherpinkcorridorsleadingoutofit.MrWonkawasrushingalonginfront,turningleftandrightandrightand left,andGrandpaJoewassaying, ‘Keepagoodholdofmyhand,Charlie.Itwouldbeterribletogetlostinhere.’

Mr Wonka was saying, ‘No time for any more messing about! We’ll never getanywhere at the rate we’ve been going!’ And on he rushed, down the endless pinkcorridors,with his black top hat perched on the top of his head and his plum-colouredvelvetcoat-tailsflyingoutbehindhimlikeaflaginthewind.

Theypassedadoor in thewall. ‘No time togo in!’ shoutedMrWonka. ‘Presson!Presson!’

Theypassedanotherdoor,thenanotherandanother.Thereweredoorseverytwentypaces or so along the corridor now, and they all had something written on them, andstrangeclankingnoiseswerecoming frombehind severalof them,anddelicious smellscamewafting throughthekeyholes,andsometimes little jetsofcolouredsteamshotoutfromthecracksunderneath.

Grandpa Joe and Charlie were half running and half walking to keep upwithMr

Wonka,buttheywereabletoreadwhatitsaidonquiteafewofthedoorsastheyhurriedby.EATABLEMARSHMALLOWPILLOWS,itsaidonone.

‘Marshmallowpillowsareterrific!’shoutedMrWonkaashedashedby.‘They’llbealltheragewhenIgetthemintotheshops!Notimetogoin,though!Notimetogoin!’

LICKABLEWALLPAPERFORNURSERIES,itsaidonthenextdoor.

‘Lovelystuff, lickablewallpaper!’criedMrWonka,rushingpast.‘Ithaspicturesoffruitsonit—bananas,apples,oranges,grapes,pineapples,strawberries,andsnozzberries…’

‘Snozzberries?’saidMikeTeavee.

‘Don’t interrupt!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘The wallpaper has pictures of all these fruitsprintedonit,andwhenyoulickthepictureofabanana,ittastesofbanana.Whenyoulickastrawberry,ittastesofstrawberry.Andwhenyoulickasnozzberry,ittastesjustexactlylikeasnozzberry…’

‘Butwhatdoesasnozzberrytastelike?’

‘You’remumblingagain,’saidMrWonka.‘Speakloudernexttime.Onwego!Hurryup!’

HOTICECREAMSFORCOLDDAYS,itsaidonthenextdoor.

‘Extremelyusefulinthewinter,’saidMrWonka,rushingon.‘Hoticecreamwarmsyouupnoendinfreezingweather.Ialsomakehoticecubesforputtinginhotdrinks.Hoticecubesmakehotdrinkshotter.’

COWSTHATGIVECHOCOLATEMILK, it said on the next door. ‘Ah,my prettylittlecows!’criedMrWonka.‘HowIlovethosecows!’

‘Butwhycan’tweseethem?’askedVerucaSalt.‘Whydowehavetogorushingonpastalltheselovelyrooms?’

‘Weshallstopintime!’calledoutMrWonka.‘Don’tbesomadlyimpatient!’FIZZYLIFTINGDRINKS,itsaidonthenextdoor.

‘Oh, those are fabulous!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘They fill you with bubbles, and thebubblesarefullofaspecialkindofgas,andthisgasissoterrificallyliftingthatitliftsyourightoffthegroundjustlikeaballoon,andupyougountilyourheadhitstheceiling—andthereyoustay.’

‘Buthowdoyoucomedownagain?’askedlittleCharlie.

‘Youdoaburp,ofcourse,’saidMrWonka.‘Youdoagreatbiglongrudeburp,andupcomesthegasanddowncomesyou!Butdon’tdrinkitoutdoors!There’snoknowinghowhighupyou’llbecarriedifyoudothat.IgavesometoanoldOompa-Loompaonceoutinthebackyardandhewentupandupanddisappearedoutofsight!Itwasverysad.Ineversawhimagain.’

‘Heshouldhaveburped,’Charliesaid.

‘Ofcourseheshouldhaveburped,’saidMrWonka.‘Istoodthereshouting,“Burp,you silly ass, burp, or you’ll never come down again!” But he didn’t or couldn’t or

wouldn’t,Idon’tknowwhich.Maybehewastoopolite.Hemustbeonthemoonbynow.’

Onthenextdoor,itsaid,SQUARESWEETSTHATLOOKROUND.

‘Wait!’criedMrWonka,skiddingsuddenlytoahalt.‘Iamveryproudofmysquaresweetsthatlookround.Let’stakeapeek.’

23SquareSweetsThatLookRound

Everybodystoppedandcrowdedtothedoor.Thetophalfof thedoorwasmadeofglass.

Grandpa Joe lifted Charlie up so that he could get a better view, and looking in,Charliesaw

alongtable,andonthetabletherewererowsandrowsofsmallwhitesquare-shaped

sweets.Thesweetslookedverymuchlikesquaresugarlumps—exceptthateachofthem

hadafunnylittlepinkfacepaintedononeside.Attheendofthetable,anumberof

Oompa-Loompaswerebusilypaintingmorefacesonmoresweets.

‘Thereyouare!’criedMrWonka.‘Squaresweetsthatlookround!’

‘Theydon’tlookroundtome,’saidMikeTeavee.

‘Theylooksquare,’saidVerucaSalt.‘Theylookcompletelysquare.’

‘Buttheyaresquare,’saidMrWonka.‘Ineversaidtheyweren’t.’

‘Yousaidtheywereround!’saidVerucaSalt.

‘Ineversaidanythingofthesort,’saidMrWonka.‘Isaidtheylookedround.’

‘Buttheydon’tlookround!’saidVerucaSalt.’Theylooksquare!’

‘Theylookround,’insistedMrWonka.

‘Theymostcertainlydonotlookround!’criedVerucaSalt.

‘Veruca,darling,’saidMrsSalt,‘paynoattentiontoMrWonka!He’slyingtoyou!’

‘Mydearoldfish,’saidMrWonka,‘goandboilyourhead!’

‘Howdareyouspeaktomelikethat!’shoutedMrsSalt.

‘Oh,doshutup,’saidMrWonka.‘Nowwatchthis!’

He took a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door, and flung it open… andsuddenly…atthesoundofthedooropening,alltherowsoflittlesquaresweetslookedquicklyroundtoseewhowascomingin.ThetinyfacesactuallyturnedtowardsthedoorandstaredatMrWonka.

‘Thereyouare!’hecriedtriumphantly.‘They’relookinground!There’snoargumentaboutit!Theyaresquaresweetsthatlookround!’

‘Bygolly,he’sright!’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘Come on!’ saidMrWonka, starting off down the corridor again. ‘Onwe go!Wemustn’tdawdle!’

BUTTERSCOTCHANDBUTTERGIN, it said on the next door they passed. ‘Now

thatsoundsabitmoreinteresting,’saidMrSalt,Veruca’sfather.

‘Gloriousstuff!’saidMrWonka.‘TheOompa-Loompasalladore it. Itmakes themtiddly.Listen!Youcanhearthemintherenow,whoopingitup.’

Shrieksoflaughterandsnatchesofsingingcouldbeheardcomingthroughthecloseddoor.

‘They’redrunkas lords,’ saidMrWonka. ‘They’redrinkingbutterscotchandsoda.Theylikethatbestofall.Butterginandtonicisalsoverypopular.Followme,please!Wereallymustn’t keep stopping like this.’He turned left.He turned right.They came to alongflightofstairs.MrWonkasliddownthebanisters.Thethreechildrendidthesame.MrsSaltandMrsTeavee,theonlywomennowleftintheparty,weregettingveryoutofbreath. Mrs Salt was a great fat creature with short legs, and she was blowing like arhinoceros.‘Thisway!’criedMrWonka,turningleftatthebottomofthestairs.

‘Goslower!’pantedMrsSalt.

‘Impossible,’saidMrWonka.‘WeshouldnevergetthereintimeifIdid.’

‘Getwhere?’askedVerucaSalt.

‘Neveryoumind,’saidMrWonka.‘Youjustwaitandsee.’

24VerucaintheNutRoom

MrWonkarushedondownthecorridor.THENUTROOM, itsaidonthenextdoortheycameto.

‘Allright,’saidMrWonka,‘stophereforamomentandcatchyourbreath,andtakeapeekthroughtheglasspanelofthisdoor.Butdon’tgoin!Whateveryoudo,don’tgointoTHENUTROOM!Ifyougoin,you’lldisturbthesquirrels!’

Everyone crowded around the door. ‘Oh look, Grandpa, look!’ cried Charlie.‘Squirrels!’shoutedVerucaSalt.‘Crikey!’saidMikeTeavee.

Itwasanamazingsight.Onehundredsquirrelswereseateduponhighstoolsaroundalarge table.On the table, thereweremounds andmounds ofwalnuts, and the squirrelswereallworkingawaylikemad,shellingthewalnutsatatremendousspeed.

‘Thesesquirrelsarespeciallytrainedforgettingthenutsoutofwalnuts,’MrWonkaexplained.

‘Whyusesquirrels?’MikeTeaveeasked.‘WhynotuseOompa-Loompas?’

‘Because,’saidMrWonka,‘Oompa-Loompascan’tgetwalnutsoutofwalnutshellsinonepiece.Theyalwaysbreak them in two.Nobodyexcept squirrels cangetwalnutswholeoutofwalnutshellseverytime.Itisextremelydifficult.Butinmyfactory,Iinsistupononlywholewalnuts.Therefore I have to have squirrels to do the job.Aren’t theywonderful,thewaytheygetthosenutsout!Andseehowtheyfirsttapeachwalnutwiththeirknucklestobesureit’snotabadone!Ifit’sbad,itmakesahollowsound,andtheydon’tbother toopen it.They just throw itdown the rubbishchute.There!Look!Watchthatsquirrelnearesttous!Ithinkhe’sgotabadonenow!’

Theywatchedthelittlesquirrelashetappedthewalnutshellwithhisknuckles.Hecockedhis head to one side, listening intently, then suddenly he threw the nut over hisshoulderintoalargeholeinthefloor.

‘Hey,Mummy!’shoutedVerucaSalt suddenly, ‘I’vedecided Iwantasquirrel!Getmeoneofthosesquirrels!’

‘Don’tbesilly,sweetheart,’saidMrsSalt.‘TheseallbelongtoMrWonka.’

‘Idon’t care about that!’ shoutedVeruca. ‘Iwantone.All I’vegot at home is twodogsandfourcatsandsixbunnyrabbitsandtwoparakeetsandthreecanariesandagreenparrotandaturtleandabowlofgoldfishandacageofwhitemiceandasillyoldhamster!Iwantasquirrel!’

‘All right,mypet,’MrsSalt said soothingly. ‘Mummy’ll get you a squirrel just assoonasshepossiblycan.’

‘ButIdon’twantanyoldsquirrel!’Verucashouted.‘Iwantatrainedsquirrel!’

Atthispoint,MrSalt,Veruca’sfather,steppedforward.‘Verywell,Wonka,’hesaidimportantly, takingout awallet full ofmoney, ‘howmuchd’youwant for oneof these

squirrels?Nameyourprice.’

‘They’renotforsale,’MrWonkaanswered.‘Shecan’thaveone.’

‘Who says I can’t!’ shouted Veruca. ‘I’m going in to get myself one this veryminute!’

‘Don’t!’ saidMrWonka quickly, but hewas too late.The girl had already thrownopenthedoorandrushedin.

Themoment she entered the room, one hundred squirrels stoppedwhat theyweredoingandturnedtheirheadsandstaredatherwithsmallblackbeadyeyes.

VerucaSaltstoppedalso,andstaredbackat them.Thenhergazefelluponaprettylittle squirrel sitting nearest to her at the end of the table. The squirrel was holding awalnutinitspaws.

‘Allright,’Verucasaid,‘I’llhaveyou!’

Shereachedoutherhandstograbthesquirrel…butasshedidso…inthatfirstsplitsecondwhenherhandsstartedtogoforward,therewasasuddenflashofmovementintheroom, like a flashofbrown lightning, andevery single squirrel around the table tookaflyingleaptowardsherandlandedonherbody.

Twenty-fiveofthemcaughtholdofherrightarm,andpinneditdown.Twenty-fivemorecaughtholdofherleftarm,andpinnedthatdown.Twenty-fivecaughtholdofherrightlegandanchoredittotheground.

Twenty-fourcaughtholdofherleftleg.

Andtheoneremainingsquirrel(obviouslytheleaderof themall)climbedupontohershoulderandstartedtap-tap-tappingthewretchedgirl’sheadwithitsknuckles.

‘Saveher!’ screamedMrsSalt. ‘Veruca!Comeback!What are theydoing toher?’‘They’retestinghertoseeifshe’sabadnut,’saidMrWonka.‘Youwatch.’

Veruca struggled furiously, but the squirrels held her tight and she couldn’tmove.Thesquirrelonhershoulderwenttap-tap-tappingthesideofherheadwithhisknuckles.

Thenallatonce, thesquirrelspulledVeruca to thegroundandstartedcarryingheracrossthefloor.

‘My goodness, she is a bad nut after all,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘Her head must havesoundedquitehollow.’

Verucakickedandscreamed,butitwasnouse.Thetinystrongpawsheldhertightlyandshecouldn’tescape.

‘Wherearetheytakingher?’shriekedMrsSalt.

‘She’s going where all the other bad nuts go,’ said MrWillyWonka. ‘Down therubbishchute.’

‘Bygolly,sheisgoingdownthechute!’saidMrSalt,staringthroughtheglassdoorathisdaughter.

‘Thensaveher!’criedMrsSalt.

‘Toolate,’saidMrWonka.‘She’sgone!’

Andindeedshehad.

‘Butwhere?’shriekedMrsSalt, flappingherarms. ‘Whathappens to thebadnuts?Wheredoesthechutegoto?’

‘That particular chute,’MrWonka told her, ‘runs directly into the great big mainrubbishpipewhichcarriesawayall therubbishfromeverypartofthefactory—allthefloor sweepings and potato peelings and rotten cabbages and fish heads and stuff likethat.’

‘Whoeatsfishandcabbageandpotatoesinthisfactory,I’dliketoknow?’saidMikeTeavee.

‘I do, of course,’ answeredMrWonka. ‘Youdon’t think I live on cacaobeans, doyou?’

‘But…but…but…’shriekedMrsSalt,‘wheredoesthegreatbigpipegotointheend?’ ‘Why, to the furnace,ofcourse,’MrWonkasaidcalmly. ‘To the incinerator.’MrsSaltopenedherhugeredmouthandstartedtoscream.

‘Don’tworry,’saidMrWonka,‘there’salwaysachancethatthey’vedecidednottolightittoday.’

‘Achance!’yelledMrsSalt.‘MydarlingVeruca!She’ll…she’ll…she’llbesizzledlikeasausage!’

‘Quite right, my dear,’ said Mr Salt. ‘Now see here, Wonka,’ he added, ‘I thinkyou’vegone just a shade too far this time, I do indeed.Mydaughtermaybe abit of afrump—Idon’tmindadmittingit—butthatdoesn’tmeanyoucanroasthertoacrisp.I’llhaveyouknowI’mextremelycrossaboutthis,Ireallyam.’

‘Oh, don’t be cross, my dear sir!’ saidMrWonka. ‘I expect she’ll turn up againsoonerorlater.Shemaynotevenhavegonedownatall.Shemaybestuckinthechutejustbelowtheentrancehole,andifthat’sthecase,allyou’llhavetodoisgoinandpullherupagain.’

Hearing this,bothMrandMrsSaltdashed into theNutRoomand ranover to theholeinthefloorandpeeredin.

‘Veruca!’shoutedMrsSalt.‘Areyoudownthere!’Therewasnoanswer.

MrsSaltbentfurtherforwardtogetacloserlook.Shewasnowkneelingrightontheedgeoftheholewithherheaddownandherenormousbehindstickingupintheairlikeagiantmushroom.Itwasadangerouspositiontobein.Sheneededonlyonetinylittlepush…onegentlenudgeintherightplace…andthatisexactlywhatthesquirrelsgaveher!Overshetoppled,intotheholeheadfirst,screechinglikeaparrot.

‘Goodgraciousme!’saidMrSalt,ashewatchedhisfatwifegotumblingdownthehole,‘whatalotofrubbishthere’sgoingtobetoday!’Hesawherdisappearingintothedarkness.‘What’sitlikedownthere,Angina?’hecalledout.Heleanedfurtherforward.

Thesquirrelsrushedupbehindhim…‘Help!’heshouted.

Buthewasalready toppling forward,anddown thechutehewent, justashiswifehaddonebeforehim—andhisdaughter.

‘Ohdear!’criedCharlie,whowaswatchingwiththeothersthroughthedoor,‘whatonearth’sgoingtohappentothemnow?’

‘Iexpectsomeonewillcatchthematthebottomofthechute,’saidMrWonka.‘Butwhataboutthegreatfieryincinerator?’askedCharlie.

‘Theyonlylightiteveryotherday,’saidMrWonka.‘Perhapsthisisoneofthedayswhentheyletitgoout.Youneverknow…theymightbelucky…’

‘Ssshh!’saidGrandpaJoe.‘Listen!Herecomesanothersong!’

Fromfarawaydownthecorridorcamethebeatingofdrums.Thenthesingingbegan.

‘VerucaSalt!’sangtheOompa-Loompas.

‘VerucaSalt,thelittlebrute,Hasjustgonedowntherubbishchute(AndasweveryrightlythoughtThatinacaselikethisweoughtToseethethingcompletelythrough,We’vepolishedoffherparents,too).DowngoesVeruca!Downthedrain!Andhere,perhaps,weshouldexplainThatshewillmeet,asshedescends,AratherdifferentsetoffriendsTothosethatshehasleftbehind—Thesewon’tbenearlysorefined.Afishhead,forexample,cutThismorningfromahalibut.“Hello!Goodmorning!Howd’youdo?Hownicetomeetyou!Howareyou?”AndthenalittlefurtherdownAmassofothersgatherround:Abaconrind,somerancidlard,Aloafofbreadgonestaleandhard,Asteakthatnobodycouldchew,Anoysterfromanoysterstew,SomeliverwurstsooldandgreyOneswelleditfromamileaway,Arottennut,areekypear,Athingthecatleftonthestair,Andlotsofotherthingsaswell,Eachwitharatherhorridsmell.TheseareVeruca’snew-foundfriendsThatshewillmeetasshedescends,AndthisisthepriceshehastopayForgoingsoveryfarastray.

Butnow,mydears,wethinkyoumightBewondering—isitreallyrightThateverysinglebitofblameAndallthescoldingandtheshameShouldfalluponVerucaSalt?Isshetheonlyoneatfault?Forthoughshe’sspoiled,anddreadfullyso,Agirlcan’tspoilherself,youknow.Whospoiledher,then?Ah,whoindeed?Whopanderedtohereveryneed?Whoturnedherintosuchabrat?Whoaretheculprits?Whodidthat?Alas!Youneedn’tlooksofarTofindoutwhothesesinnersare.Theyare(andthisisverysad)Herlovingparents,MUMandDAD.Andthatiswhywe’regladtheyfellIntotherubbishchuteaswell.’

25TheGreatGlassLift

‘I’venever seen anything like it!’ criedMrWonka. ‘The children are disappearinglike

rabbits!Butyoumustn’tworryaboutit!They’llallcomeoutinthewash!’

MrWonkalookedatthelittlegroupthatstoodbesidehiminthecorridor.Therewereonly two children left now—Mike Teavee andCharlie Bucket. And therewere threegrown-ups,MrandMrsTeaveeandGrandpaJoe.‘Shallwemoveon?’MrWonkaasked.

‘Oh,yes!’criedCharlieandGrandpaJoe,bothtogether.

‘Myfeetaregettingtired,’saidMikeTeavee.‘Iwanttowatchtelevision.’

‘Ifyou’retiredthenwe’dbettertakethelift,’saidMrWonka.‘It’soverhere.Comeon! Inwego!’He skippedacross thepassage to apair ofdoubledoors.Thedoors slidopen.Thetwochildrenandthegrown-upswentin.

‘Nowthen,’criedMrWonka,‘whichbuttonshallwepressfirst?Takeyourpick!’

CharlieBucketstaredaroundhiminastonishment.Thiswasthecraziest lifthehadeverseen.Therewerebuttonseverywhere!Thewalls,andeventheceiling,werecoveredalloverwithrowsandrowsandrowsofsmall,blackpushbuttons!Theremusthavebeenathousandofthemoneachwall,andanotherthousandontheceiling!AndnowCharlienoticedthateverysinglebuttonhadatinyprintedlabelbesideittellingyouwhichroomyouwouldbetakentoifyoupressedit.

‘This isn’t justanordinaryup-and-downlift!’announcedMrWonkaproudly. ‘Thisliftcangosidewaysandlongwaysandslantwaysandanyotherwayyoucanthinkof!Itcanvisitanysingleroominthewholefactory,nomatterwhereitis!Yousimplypressthebutton…andzing!…you’reoff!’

‘Fantastic!’ murmured Grandpa Joe. His eyes were shining with excitement as hestaredattherowsofbuttons.

‘The whole lift is made of thick, clear glass!’MrWonka declared. ‘Walls, doors,ceiling,floor,everythingismadeofglasssothatyoucanseeout!’

‘Butthere’snothingtosee,’saidMikeTeavee.

‘Chooseabutton!’saidMrWonka.‘Thetwochildrenmaypressonebuttoneach.Sotake your pick! Hurry up! In every room, something delicious and wonderful is beingmade.’

Quickly,Charliestartedreadingsomeofthelabelsalongsidethebuttons.

THEROCK-CANDYMINE—10,000FEETDEEP,itsaidonone.

COKERNUT-ICESKATINGRINKS,itsaidonanother.

Then…STRAWBERRY-JUICEWATERPISTOLS.

TOFFEE-APPLETREESFORPLANTINGOUTINYOURGARDEN—ALLSIZES.

EXPLODINGSWEETSFORYOURENEMIES.

LUMINOUSLOLLIESFOREATINGINBEDATNIGHT.

MINT JUJUBES FOR THE BOY NEXT DOOR— THEY’LL GIVE HIM GREENTEETHFORAMONTH.

CAVITY-FILLING CARAMELS — NO MORE DENTISTS. STICKJAW FORTALKATIVEPARENTS.

WRIGGLE-SWEETSTHATWRIGGLEDELIGHTFULLYINYOURTUMMYAFTERSWALLOWING.

INVISIBLECHOCOLATEBARSFOREATINGINCLASS.

SUGAR-COATED PENCILS FOR SUCKING. FIZZY LEMONADE SWIMMINGPOOLS.

MAGICHAND-FUDGE—WHENYOUHOLDITINYOURHAND,YOUTASTEITINYOURMOUTH.

RAINBOW DROPS — SUCK THEM AND YOU CAN SPIT IN SIX DIFFERENTCOLOURS.

‘Come on, come on!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘We can’t wait all day!’ ‘Isn’t there aTelevisionRoominallthislot?’askedMikeTeavee.

‘Certainly there’s a television room,’MrWonka said. ‘That button over there.’Hepointedwith his finger. Everybody looked.TELEVISIONCHOCOLATE, it said on thetinylabelbesidethebutton.

‘Whoopee!’ shouted Mike Teavee. ‘That’s for me!’ He stuck out his thumb andpressedthebutton.Instantly, therewasatremendouswhizzingnoise.Thedoorsclangedshutandtheliftleapedawayasthoughithadbeenstungbyawasp.Butitleaptsideways!Andallthepassengers(exceptMrWonka,whowasholdingontoastrapfromtheceiling)wereflungofftheirfeetontothefloor.

‘Get up, get up!’ cried Mr Wonka, roaring with laughter. But just as they werestaggering to their feet, the lift changeddirectionandswervedviolently roundacorner.Andovertheywentoncemore.

‘Help!’shoutedMrsTeavee.

‘Takemyhand,madam,’ saidMrWonka gallantly. ‘There you are!Nowgrab thisstrap!Everybodygrabastrap.Thejourney’snotoveryet!’

OldGrandpaJoestaggeredtohisfeetandcaughtholdofastrap.LittleCharlie,whocouldn’tpossiblyreachashighasthat,puthisarmsaroundGrandpaJoe’slegsandhungontight.

The lift rushedonat the speedof a rocket.Now itwasbeginning toclimb. Itwasshootingupandupanduponasteepslantycourseasifitwereclimbingaverysteephill.Thensuddenly,asthoughithadcometothetopofthehillandgoneoveraprecipice,itdropped like a stone and Charlie felt his tummy coming right up into his throat, and

Grandpa Joe shouted, ‘Yippee!Herewe go!’ andMrs Teavee cried out, ‘The rope hasbroken!We’regoingtocrash!’AndMrWonkasaid,‘Calmyourself,mydear lady,’andpattedhercomfortinglyonthearm.AndthenGrandpaJoelookeddownatCharliewhowasclingingtohislegs,andhesaid,‘Areyouallright,Charlie?’Charlieshouted,‘Iloveit!It’slikebeingonarollercoaster!’Andthroughtheglasswallsofthelift,asitrushedalong,theycaughtsuddenglimpsesofstrangeandwonderfulthingsgoingoninsomeofthe other rooms:An enormous spoutwith brown sticky stuff oozingout of it on to thefloor…

Agreat, craggymountainmadeentirelyof fudge,withOompa-Loompas (all ropedtogetherforsafety)hackinghugehunksoffudgeoutofitssides…

Amachinewithwhitepowdersprayingoutofit likeasnowstorm…Alakeofhotcaramelwithsteamcomingoffit…

AvillageofOompa-Loompas,withtinyhousesandstreetsandhundredsofOompa-Loompachildrennomorethanfourincheshighplayinginthestreets…

And now the lift began flattening out again, but it seemed to be going faster thanever,andCharliecouldhearthescreamofthewindoutsideasithurtledforward…andittwisted…anditturned…anditwentup…anditwentdown…and…

‘I’mgoingtobesick!’yelledMrsTeavee,turninggreenintheface.‘Pleasedon’tbesick,’saidMrWonka.‘Tryandstopme!’saidMrsTeavee.

‘Thenyou’dbettertakethis,’saidMrWonka,andheswepthismagnificentblacktophatoffhishead,andhelditout,upsidedown,infrontofMrsTeavee’smouth.

‘Makethisawfulthingstop!’orderedMrTeavee.

‘Can’tdothat,’saidMrWonka.‘Itwon’tstoptillwegetthere.Ionlyhopenoone’susingtheotherliftatthismoment.’

‘Whatotherlift?’screamedMrsTeavee.

‘Theonethatgoestheoppositewayonthesametrackasthisone,’saidMrWonka.

‘Holymackerel!’criedMrTeavee.‘Youmeanwemighthaveacollision?’

‘I’vealwaysbeenluckysofar,’saidMrWonka.

‘NowIamgoingtobesick!’yelledMrsTeavee.

‘No,no!’saidMrWonka.‘Notnow!We’renearlythere!Don’tspoilmyhat!’

Thenextmoment,therewasascreamingofbrakes,andtheliftbegantoslowdown.Thenitstoppedaltogether.

‘Someride!’saidMrTeavee,wipinghisgreatsweatyfacewithahandkerchief.

‘Neveragain!’gaspedMrsTeavee.Andthen thedoorsof the liftslidopenandMrWonkasaid,‘Justaminutenow!Listentome!Iwanteverybodytobeverycarefulinthisroom.Thereisdangerousstuffaroundinhereandyoumustnottamperwithit.’

26TheTelevision-ChocolateRoom

TheTeaveefamily,togetherwithCharlieandGrandpaJoe,steppedoutoftheliftintoa

room so dazzlingly bright and dazzlinglywhite that they screwed up their eyes inpainand

stoppedwalking.MrWonkahandedeachofthemapairofdarkglassesandsaid,‘Putthese

onquick!Anddon’t take themoff inherewhateveryoudo!This lightcouldblindyou!’

As soon as Charlie had his dark glasses on, he was able to look around him incomfort.Hesawalongnarrowroom.Theroomwaspaintedwhiteallover.Eventhefloorwaswhite,andtherewasn’taspeckofdustanywhere.Fromtheceiling,hugelampshungdownandbathedtheroominabrilliantblue-whitelight.Theroomwascompletelybareexceptatthefarends.Atoneoftheseendstherewasanenormouscameraonwheels,andawholearmyofOompa-Loompaswasclusteringaroundit,oilingitsjointsandadjustingitsknobsandpolishingitsgreatglasslens.TheOompa-Loompaswerealldressedinthemostextraordinaryway.Theywerewearingbright-redspacesuits,completewithhelmetsandgoggles—atleasttheylookedlikespacesuits—andtheywereworkingincompletesilence. Watching them, Charlie experienced a queer sense of danger. There wassomethingdangerousaboutthiswholebusiness,andtheOompa-Loompasknewit.Therewasnochatteringorsingingamongthemhere,andtheymovedaboutoverthehugeblackcameraslowlyandcarefullyintheirscarletspacesuits.

At the other end of the room, about fifty paces away from the camera, a singleOompa-Loompa (also wearing a space suit) was sitting at a black table gazing at thescreenofaverylargetelevisionset.

‘Herewego!’criedMrWonka,hoppingupanddownwithexcitement.‘ThisistheTestingRoomformyverylatestandgreatestinvention—TelevisionChocolate!’

‘ButwhatisTelevisionChocolate?’askedMikeTeavee.

‘Goodheavens,child,stopinterruptingme!’saidMrWonka.‘Itworksbytelevision.I don’t like televisionmyself. I suppose it’s all right in small doses, but children neverseemtobeabletotakeit insmalldoses.Theywanttosit therealldaylongstaringandstaringatthescreen…’

‘That’sme!’saidMikeTeavee.

‘Shutup!’saidMrTeavee.

‘Thankyou,’saidMrWonka.‘Ishallnowtellyouhowthisamazingtelevisionsetofmine works. But first of all, do you know how ordinary television works? It is verysimple.Atoneend,wherethepictureisbeingtaken,youhavealargecinecameraandyoustart photographing something. The photographs are then split up intomillions of tiny

littlepieceswhicharesosmallthatyoucan’tseethem,andtheselittlepiecesareshotoutinto the sky by electricity. In the sky, they gowhizzing around all over the place untilsuddenly they hit the antenna on the roof of somebody’s house. They then go flashingdown thewire that leads right into the back of the television set, and in there they getjiggledandjoggledarounduntilatlasteverysingleoneofthosemillionsoftinypiecesisfittedback into its rightplace (just likea jigsawpuzzle),andpresto!—thephotographappearsonthescreen…’

‘Thatisn’texactlyhowitworks,’MikeTeaveesaid.

‘Iamalittledeafinmyleftear,’MrWonkasaid.‘YoumustforgivemeifIdon’theareverythingyousay.’

‘Isaid,thatisn’texactlyhowitworks!’shoutedMikeTeavee.

‘You’reaniceboy,’MrWonkasaid,‘butyoutalktoomuch.Nowthen!TheveryfirsttimeIsawordinarytelevisionworking,Iwasstruckbyatremendousidea.“Lookhere!”Ishouted.“Ifthesepeoplecanbreakupaphotographintomillionsofpiecesandsendthepieceswhizzing through theair and thenput them together againat theother end,whycan’tIdothesamethingwithabarofchocolate?Whycan’tIsendarealbarofchocolatewhizzingthroughtheairintinypiecesandthenputthepiecestogetherattheotherend,allreadytobeeaten?”’

‘Impossible!’saidMikeTeavee.

‘Youthinkso?’criedMrWonka.‘Well,watchthis!Ishallnowsendabarofmyverybestchocolatefromoneendofthisroomtotheother—bytelevision!Getready,there!Bringinthechocolate!’

Immediately,sixOompa-Loompasmarchedforwardcarryingontheirshoulders themost enormous bar of chocolate Charlie had ever seen. It was about the size of themattresshesleptonathome.

‘Ithas tobebig,’MrWonkaexplained, ‘becausewheneveryousendsomethingbytelevision, it always comes out much smaller than it was when it went in. Even withordinarytelevision,whenyouphotographabigman,henevercomesoutonyourscreenany taller than a pencil, does he? Here we go, then! Get ready! No, no! Stop! Holdeverything!Youthere!MikeTeavee!Standback!You’retooclosetothecamera!Therearedangerousrayscomingoutofthatthing!Theycouldbreakyouupintoamilliontinypiecesinonesecond!That’swhytheOompa-Loompasarewearingspacesuits!Thesuitsprotectthem!Allright!That’sbetter!Now,then!Switchon!’

OneoftheOompa-Loompascaughtholdofalargeswitchandpulleditdown.

Therewasablindingflash.

‘Thechocolate’sgone!’shoutedGrandpaJoe,wavinghisarms.

He was quite right! The whole enormous bar of chocolate had disappearedcompletelyintothinair!

‘It’sonitsway!’criedMrWonka.‘Itisnowrushingthroughtheairaboveourheadsinamilliontinypieces.Quick!Comeoverhere!’Hedashedovertotheotherendofthe

roomwherethelargetelevisionsetwasstanding,andtheothersfollowedhim.‘Watchthescreen!’hecried.‘Hereitcomes!Look!’

Thescreenflickeredandlitup.Thensuddenly,asmallbarofchocolateappearedinthemiddleofthescreen.

‘Takeit!’shoutedMrWonka,growingmoreandmoreexcited.

‘How can you take it?’ asked Mike Teavee, laughing. ‘It’s just a picture on atelevisionscreen!’

‘CharlieBucket!’criedMrWonka.‘Youtakeit!Reachoutandgrabit!’

Charlieputouthishandandtouchedthescreen,andsuddenly,miraculously,thebarofchocolatecameawayinhisfingers.Hewassosurprisedhenearlydroppedit.

‘Eatit!’shoutedMrWonka.‘Goonandeatit!It’llbedelicious!It’sthesamebar!It’sgotsmalleronthejourney,that’sall!’

‘It’sabsolutelyfantastic!’gaspedGrandpaJoe.‘It’s…it’s…it’samiracle!’

‘Justimagine,’criedMrWonka,‘whenIstartusingthisacrossthecountry…you’llbe sitting at homewatching television and suddenly a commercial will flash on to thescreenandavoicewillsay,“EATWONKA’SCHOCOLATES!THEY’RETHEBESTINTHEWORLD!IFYOUDON’TBELIEVEUS,TRYONEFORYOURSELF—NOW!”Andyousimplyreachoutandtakeone!Howaboutthat,eh?’

‘Terrific!’criedGrandpaJoe.‘Itwillchangetheworld!’

27MikeTeaveeisSentbyTelevision

MikeTeaveewasevenmoreexcited thanGrandpaJoeatseeingabarofchocolatebeingsentbytelevision.‘ButMrWonka,’heshouted,‘canyousendotherthingsthroughtheairinthesameway?Breakfastcereal,forinstance?’

‘Oh,mysaintedaunt!’criedMrWonka.‘Don’tmentionthatdisgustingstuffinfrontofme!Doyouknowwhatbreakfastcerealismadeof?It’smadeofallthoselittlecurlywoodenshavingsyoufindinpencilsharpeners!’

‘Butcouldyousend itby television ifyouwanted to,asyoudochocolate?’askedMikeTeavee.

‘OfcourseIcould!’

‘Andwhat about people?’ askedMikeTeavee. ‘Could you send a real live personfromoneplacetoanotherinthesameway?’

‘Aperson!’criedMrWonka.‘Areyouoffyourrocker?’‘Butcoulditbedone?’

‘Goodheavens, child, I reallydon’tknow…I suppose it could…yes. I’mprettysure itcould…ofcourse itcould…Iwouldn’t like torisk it, though…itmighthavesomeverynastyresults…’

ButMike Teavee was already off and running. The moment he heardMrWonkasaying,‘I’mprettysureitcould…ofcourseitcould,’heturnedawayandstartedrunningasfastashecouldtowardstheotherendoftheroomwherethegreatcamerawasstanding.‘Lookatme!’heshoutedasheran.‘I’mgoingtobethefirstpersonintheworldtobesentbytelevision!’

‘No,no,no,no!’criedMrWonka.

‘Mike!’screamedMrsTeavee.‘Stop!Comeback!You’llbeturnedintoamilliontinypieces!’

ButtherewasnostoppingMikeTeaveenow.Thecrazyboyrushedon,andwhenhereached the enormous camera, he jumped straight for the switch, scattering Oompa-Loompasrightandleftashewent.

‘Seeyoulater,alligator!’heshouted,andhepulleddowntheswitch,andashedidso,heleapedoutintothefullglareofthemightylens.

Therewasablindingflash.Thentherewassilence.

ThenMrsTeaveeranforward…butshestoppeddeadinthemiddleoftheroom…andshestoodthere…shestoodstaringattheplacewherehersonhadbeen…andhergreatredmouthopenedwideandshescreamed,‘He’sgone!He’sgone!’

‘Greatheavens,hehasgone!’shoutedMrTeavee.

MrWonkahurriedforwardandplacedahandgentlyonMrsTeavee’sshoulder.‘Weshallhavetohopeforthebest,’hesaid.‘Wemustpraythatyourlittleboywillcomeout

unharmedattheotherend.’

‘Mike!’screamedMrsTeavee,claspingherheadinherhands.‘Whereareyou?’

‘I’lltellyouwhereheis,’saidMrTeavee,‘he’swhizzingaroundaboveourheadsinamilliontinypieces!’

‘Don’ttalkaboutit!’wailedMrsTeavee.

‘We must watch the television set,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘He may come through anymoment.’

MrandMrsTeaveeandGrandpaJoeand littleCharlieandMrWonkaallgatheredroundthetelevisionandstaredtenselyatthescreen.Thescreenwasquiteblank.

‘He’stakingaheckofalongtimetocomeacross,’saidMrTeavee,wipinghisbrow.‘Ohdear,ohdear,’saidMrWonka,‘Idohopethatnopartofhimgetsleftbehind.’‘Whatonearthdoyoumean?’askedMrTeaveesharply.

‘Idon’twishtoalarmyou,’saidMrWonka,‘butitdoessometimeshappenthatonlyabouthalfthelittlepiecesfindtheirwayintothetelevisionset.Ithappenedlastweek.Idon’tknowwhy,buttheresultwasthatonlyhalfabarofchocolatecamethrough.’

MrsTeaveeletoutascreamofhorror.‘YoumeanonlyahalfofMikeiscomingbacktous?’shecried.

‘Let’shopeit’sthetophalf,’saidMrTeavee.

‘Holdeverything!’saidMrWonka.‘Watchthescreen!Something’shappening!’

Thescreenhadsuddenlybeguntoflicker.

Thensomewavylinesappeared.

MrWonkaadjustedoneoftheknobsandthewavylineswentaway.

Andnow,veryslowly,thescreenbegantogetbrighterandbrighter.

‘Herehecomes!’yelledMrWonka.‘Yes,that’shimallright!’

‘Isheallinonepiece?’criedMrsTeavee.

‘I’mnotsure,’saidMrWonka.‘It’stooearlytotell.’

Faintlyat first,butbecomingclearerandclearereverysecond, thepictureofMikeTeavee appeared on the screen. He was standing up and waving at the audience andgrinningfromeartoear.

‘Buthe’samidget!’shoutedMrTeavee.

‘Mike,’criedMrsTeavee,‘areyouallright?Arethereanybitsofyoumissing?’

‘Isn’thegoingtogetanybigger?’shoutedMrTeavee.

‘Talktome,Mike!’criedMrsTeavee.‘Saysomething!Tellmeyou’reallright!’

A tiny little voice, no louder than the squeaking of a mouse, came out of thetelevisionset.‘Hi,Mum!’itsaid.‘Hi,Pop!Lookatme!I’mthefirstpersonevertobesentbytelevision!’

‘Grabhim!’orderedMrWonka.‘Quick!’

MrsTeavee shot out a hand and picked the tiny figure ofMikeTeavee out of thescreen.

‘Hooray!’criedMrWonka.‘He’sallinonepiece!He’scompletelyunharmed!’

‘Youcall thatunharmed?’snappedMrsTeavee,peeringat the littlespeckofaboywhowasnowrunningtoandfroacrossthepalmofherhand,wavinghispistolsintheair.

Hewascertainlynotmorethananinchtall.

‘He’sshrunk!’saidMrTeavee.

‘Ofcoursehe’sshrunk,’saidMrWonka.‘Whatdidyouexpect?’

‘Thisisterrible!’wailedMrsTeavee.‘Whatarewegoingtodo?’

AndMrTeaveesaid,‘Wecan’tsendhimbacktoschoollikethis!He’llgettroddenon!He’llgetsquashed!’

‘Hewon’tbeabletodoanything!’criedMrsTeavee.

‘Oh,yesIwill!’squeakedthetinyvoiceofMikeTeavee.‘I’llstillbeabletowatchtelevision!’

‘Never again!’ shouted Mr Teavee. ‘I’m throwing the television set right out thewindowthemomentwegethome.I’vehadenoughoftelevision!’

Whenheheardthis,MikeTeaveeflewintoaterribletantrum.Hestartedjumpingupanddownonthepalmofhismother’shand,screamingandyellingandtryingtobiteherfingers.‘Iwant towatchtelevision!’hesqueaked.‘Iwant towatchtelevision!Iwant towatchtelevision!Iwanttowatchtelevision!’

‘Here!Givehimtome!’saidMrTeavee,andhetookthetinyboyandshovedhiminto thebreastpocketofhis jacketandstuffedahandkerchiefon top.Squealsandyellscamefrominsidethepocket,andthepocketshookasthefuriouslittleprisonerfoughttogetout.

‘Oh,MrWonka,’wailedMrsTeavee,‘howcanwemakehimgrow?’

‘Well,’saidMrWonka,strokinghisbeardandgazingthoughtfullyat theceiling,‘Imustsay that’saweebit tricky.Butsmallboysareextremelyspringyandelastic.Theystretchlikemad.Sowhatwe’lldo,we’llputhiminaspecialmachineIhavefortestingthestretchinessofchewing-gum!Maybethatwillbringhimbacktowhathewas.’

‘Oh,thankyou!’saidMrsTeavee.

‘Don’tmentionit,dearlady.’

‘Howfard’youthinkhe’llstretch?’askedMrTeavee.

‘Maybemiles,’ saidMrWonka. ‘Who knows? But he’s going to be awfully thin.Everythinggetsthinnerwhenyoustretchit.’

‘Youmeanlikechewing-gum?’askedMrTeavee.

‘Exactly.’

‘Howthinwillhebe?’askedMrsTeaveeanxiously.

‘Ihaven’tthefoggiestidea,’saidMrWonka.‘Anditdoesn’treallymatter,anyway,becausewe’llsoonfattenhimupagain.Allwe’llhavetodoisgivehimatripleoverdoseofmywonderfulSupervitaminChocolate.SupervitaminChocolatecontainshugeamountsofvitaminAandvitaminB.ItalsocontainsvitaminC,vitaminD,vitaminE,vitaminF,vitaminG,vitaminI,vitaminJ,vitaminK,vitaminL,vitaminM,vitaminN,vitaminO,vitaminP,vitaminQ,vitaminR,vitaminT,vitaminU,vitaminV,vitaminW,vitaminX,vitaminY,and,believeitornot,vitaminZ!Theonlytwovitaminsitdoesn’thaveinitarevitaminS,becauseitmakesyousick,andvitaminH,becauseitmakesyougrowhornsonthetopofyourhead,likeabull.Butitdoeshaveinitaverysmallamountoftherarestandmostmagicalvitaminofthemall—vitaminWonka.’

‘Andwhatwillthatdotohim?’askedMrTeaveeanxiously.

‘It’llmakehistoesgrowoutuntilthey’reaslongashisfingers…’

‘Oh,no!’criedMrsTeavee.

‘Don’tbesilly,’saidMrWonka.‘It’smostuseful.He’llbeabletoplaythepianowithhisfeet.’

‘ButMrWonka…’

‘Noarguments,please!’saidMrWonka.Heturnedawayandclickedhisfingersthreetimesintheair.AnOompa-Loompaappearedimmediatelyandstoodbesidehim.‘Followtheseorders,’saidMrWonka,handingtheOompa-Loompaapieceofpaperonwhichhehadwrittenfullinstructions.‘Andyou’llfindtheboyinhisfather’spocket.Offyougo!Good-bye,MrTeavee!Good-bye,MrsTeavee!Andpleasedon’tlooksoworried!Theyallcomeoutinthewash,youknow;everyoneofthem…’

Attheendoftheroom,theOompa-Loompasaroundthegiantcamerawerealreadybeatingtheirtinydrumsandbeginningtojogupanddowntotherhythm.

‘Theretheygoagain!’saidMrWonka.‘I’mafraidyoucan’tstopthemsinging.’

Little Charlie caught Grandpa Joe’s hand, and the two of them stood beside MrWonkainthemiddleofthelongbrightroom,listeningtotheOompa-Loompas.Andthisiswhattheysang:

‘Themostimportantthingwe’velearned,Sofaraschildrenareconcerned,Isnever,NEVER,NEVERletThemnearyourtelevisionset—Orbetterstill,justdon’tinstallTheidioticthingatall.Inalmosteveryhousewe’vebeen,We’vewatchedthemgapingatthescreen.Theylollandslopandloungeabout,Andstareuntiltheireyespopout.(Lastweekinsomeone’splacewesawAdozeneyeballsonthefloor.)

TheysitandstareandstareandsitUntilthey’rehypnotizedbyit,Untilthey’reabsolutelydrunkWithallthatshockingghastlyjunk.Ohyes,weknowitkeepsthemstill,Theydon’tclimboutthewindowsill,Theyneverfightorkickorpunch,TheyleaveyoufreetocookthelunchAndwashthedishesinthesink—Butdidyoueverstoptothink,TowonderjustexactlywhatThisdoestoyourbelovedtot?ITROTSTHESENSESINTHEHEAD!ITKILLSIMAGINATIONDEAD!ITCLOGSANDCLUTTERSUPTHEMIND!ITMAKESACHILDSODULLANDBLINDHECANNOLONGERUNDERSTANDAFANTASY,AFAIRYLAND!HISBRAINBECOMESASSOFTASCHEESE!HISPOWERSOFTHINKINGRUSTANDFREEZE!HECANNOTTHINK—HEONLYSEES!“Allright!”you’llcry.“Allright!”you’llsay,“Butifwetakethesetaway,WhatshallwedotoentertainOurdarlingchildren!Pleaseexplain!”We’llanswerthisbyaskingyou,“Whatusedthedarlingonestodo?HowusedtheykeepthemselvescontentedBeforethismonsterwasinvented?”Haveyouforgotten?Don’tyouknow?We’llsayitveryloudandslow:THEY…USEDTO…READ!They’dREADandREAD,ANDREADandREAD,andthenproceedTOREADsomemore.GreatScott!Gadzooks!Onehalftheirliveswasreadingbooks!Thenurseryshelvesheldbooksgalore!Booksclutteredupthenurseryfloor!Andinthebedroom,bythebed,Morebookswerewaitingtoberead!Suchwondrous,fine,fantastictalesOfdragons,gypsies,queens,andwhalesAndtreasureisles,anddistantshoresWheresmugglersrowedwithmuffledoars,Andpirateswearingpurplepants,Andsailingshipsandelephants,Andcannibalscrouchingroundthepot,

Stirringawayatsomethinghot.(Itsmellssogood,whatcanitbe?Goodgracious,it’sPenelope.)TheyoungeroneshadBeatrixPotterWithMrTod,thedirtyrotter,AndSquirrelNutkin,PiglingBland,AndMrsTiggy-Winkleand—JustHowTheCamelGotHisHump,AndHowTheMonkeyLostHisRump,AndMrToad,andblessmysoul,There’sMrRatandMrMole—Oh,books,whatbookstheyusedtoknow,Thosechildrenlivinglongago!Soplease,ohplease,webeg,wepray,GothrowyourTVsetaway,AndinitsplaceyoucaninstallAlovelybookshelfonthewall.Thenfilltheshelveswithlotsofbooks,Ignoringallthedirtylooks,Thescreamsandyells,thebitesandkicks,Andchildrenhittingyouwithsticks—Fearnot,becausewepromiseyouThat,inaboutaweekortwoOfhavingnothingelsetodo,They’llnowbegintofeeltheneedOfhavingsomethinggoodtoread.Andoncetheystart—ohboy,ohboy!YouwatchtheslowlygrowingjoyThatfillstheirhearts.They’llgrowsokeenThey’llwonderwhatthey’deverseenInthatridiculousmachine,Thatnauseating,foul,unclean.Repulsivetelevisionscreen!Andlater,eachandeverykidWillloveyoumoreforwhatyoudid.P.S.RegardingMikeTeavee,WeverymuchregretthatweShallsimplyhavetowaitandseeIfwecangethimbackhisheight.Butifwecan’t—itserveshimright.’

28OnlyCharlieLeft

‘Whichroomshallitbenext?’saidMrWonkaasheturnedawayanddartedintothelift.

‘Come on! Hurry up!We must get going! And howmany children are there leftnow?’

LittleCharlielookedatGrandpaJoe,andGrandpaJoelookedbackatlittleCharlie.‘ButMrWonka,’GrandpaJoecalledafterhim,‘there’s…there’sonlyCharlieleftnow.’

MrWonkaswungroundandstaredatCharlie.

Therewas a silence.Charlie stood thereholding tightlyon toGrandpa Joe’shand.‘Youmeanyou’re theonlyone left?’MrWonkasaid,pretending tobesurprised. ‘Why,yes,’whisperedCharlie.‘Yes.’

MrWonkasuddenlyexplodedwithexcitement.‘Butmydearboy,’hecriedout,‘thatmeans you’ve won!’ He rushed out of the lift and started shaking Charlie’s hand sofuriously it nearly came off. ‘Oh, I do congratulate you!’ he cried. ‘I really do! I’mabsolutely delighted! It couldn’t be better! Howwonderful this is! I had a hunch, youknow, right from the beginning, that it was going to be you!Well done, Charlie, welldone! This is terrific! Now the fun is really going to start! But we mustn’t dilly!Wemustn’t dally! There’s even less time to lose now than there was before!We have anenormousnumberofthingstodobeforethedayisout!Justthinkofthearrangementsthathavetobemade!Andthepeoplewehavetofetch!Butluckilyforus,wehavethegreatglasslifttospeedthingsup!Jumpin,mydearCharlie,jumpin!Youtoo,GrandpaJoe,sir!No,no,afteryou!That’stheway!Nowthen!ThistimeIshallchoosethebuttonwearegoingtopress!’MrWonka’sbrighttwinklingblueeyesrestedforamomentonCharlie’sface.

Somethingcrazyisgoingtohappennow,Charliethought.Buthewasn’tfrightened.Hewasn’tevennervous.Hewas just terrificallyexcited.AndsowasGrandpaJoe.Theoldman’s facewas shiningwith excitement as hewatched everymove thatMrWonkamade.MrWonkawasreachingforabuttonhighupontheglassceilingofthelift.CharlieandGrandpaJoebothcranedtheirneckstoreadwhatitsaidonthelittlelabelbesidethebutton.

Itsaid…UPANDOUT.

‘Upandout,’thoughtCharlie.‘Whatsortofaroomisthat?’MrWonkapressedthebutton.Theglassdoorsclosed.‘Holdon!’criedMrWonka.

ThenWHAM!Theliftshotstraightuplikearocket!‘Yippee!’shoutedGrandpaJoe.CharliewasclingingtoGrandpaJoe’slegsandMrWonkawasholdingontoastrapfromthe ceiling, and up they went, up, up, up, straight up this time, with no twistings orturnings,andCharliecouldhearthewhistlingoftheairoutsideastheliftwentfasterandfaster.‘Yippee!’shoutedGrandpaJoeagain.‘Yippee!Herewego!’

‘Faster!’criedMrWonka,bangingthewalloftheliftwithhishand.‘Faster!Faster!Ifwedon’tgoanyfasterthanthis,weshallnevergetthrough!’

‘Throughwhat?’shoutedGrandpaJoe.‘Whathavewegottogetthrough?’

‘Ah-ha!’criedMrWonka,‘youwaitandsee!I’vebeenlongingtopressthisbuttonforyears!But I’veneverdone it until now! Iwas temptedmany times!Oh,yes, Iwastempted!But I couldn’t bear the thought ofmaking a great big hole in the roof of thefactory!Herewego,boys!Upandout!’

‘Butyoudon’tmean…’shoutedGrandpaJoe,‘…youdon’treallymeanthatthislift…’‘Ohyes,Ido!’answeredMrWonka.‘Youwaitandsee!Upandout!’

‘But…but…but… it’smadeof glass!’ shoutedGrandpa Joe. ‘It’ll break into amillionpieces!’

‘Isupposeitmight,’saidMrWonka,cheerfulasever,‘butit’sprettythickglass,allthesame.’

Theliftrushedon,goingupandupandup,fasterandfasterandfaster…

Thensuddenly,CRASH!—andthemosttremendousnoiseofsplinteringwoodandbroken tilescamefromdirectlyabove theirheads,andGrandpaJoeshouted, ‘Help! It’stheend!We’redonefor!’andMrWonkasaid,‘No,we’renot!We’rethrough!We’reout!’Sureenough,thelifthadshotrightupthroughtheroofofthefactoryandwasnowrisingintotheskylikearocket,andthesunshinewaspouringinthroughtheglassroof.Infivesecondstheywereathousandfeetupinthesky.

‘Thelift’sgonemad!’shoutedGrandpaJoe.

‘Havenofear,mydearsir,’saidMrWonkacalmly,andhepressedanotherbutton.Theliftstopped.Itstoppedandhunginmid-air,hoveringlikeahelicopter,hoveringoverthefactoryandovertheverytownitselfwhichlayspreadoutbelowthemlikeapicturepostcard!Lookingdownthroughtheglassflooronwhichhewasstanding,Charliecouldsee the small far-away houses and the streets and the snow that lay thickly overeverything.Itwasaneerieandfrighteningfeelingtobestandingonclearglasshighupinthesky.Itmadeyoufeelthatyouweren’tstandingonanythingatall.

‘Areweallright?’criedGrandpaJoe.‘Howdoesthisthingstayup?’

‘Sugar power!’ said Mr Wonka. ‘One million sugar power! Oh, look,’ he cried,pointingdown,‘theregotheotherchildren!They’rereturninghome!’

29TheOtherChildrenGoHome

‘Wemustgodownandtakealookatourlittlefriendsbeforewedoanythingelse,’saidMrWonka.Hepressedadifferentbutton,andtheliftdroppedlower,andsoonitwashoveringjustabovetheentrancegatestothefactory.

Looking down now,Charlie could see the children and their parents standing in alittlegroupjustinsidethegates.

‘Icanonlyseethree,’hesaid.‘Who’smissing?’

‘Iexpectit’sMikeTeavee,’MrWonkasaid.‘Buthe’llbecomingalongsoon.Doyouseethetrucks?’MrWonkapointedtoalineofgiganticcoveredvansparkedinalinenearby.

‘Yes,’Charliesaid.‘Whataretheyfor?’

‘Don’t you rememberwhat it said on theGoldenTickets?Every child goes homewithalifetime’ssupplyofsweets.There’sonetruckloadforeachofthem,loadedtothebrim.Ah-ha,’MrWonkawenton,‘theregoesourfriendAugustusGloop!D’youseehim?He’sgettingintothefirsttruckwithhismotherandfather!’

‘Youmeanhe’sreallyallright?’askedCharlie,astonished.‘Evenaftergoingupthatawfulpipe?’

‘He’sverymuchallright,’saidMrWonka.

‘He’s changed!’ said Grandpa Joe, peering down through the glass wall of theelevator.‘Heusedtobefat!Nowhe’sthinasastraw!’

‘Of coursehe’s changed,’ saidMrWonka, laughing. ‘Hegot squeezed in thepipe.Don’t you remember? And look! There goesMiss Violet Beauregarde, the great gum-chewer!Itseemsasthoughtheymanagedtode-juiceherafterall.I’msoglad.Andhowhealthyshelooks!Muchbetterthanbefore!’

‘Butshe’spurpleintheface!’criedGrandpaJoe.

‘Sosheis,’saidMrWonka.‘Ah,well,there’snothingwecandoaboutthat.’

‘Goodgracious!’criedCharlie.‘LookatpoorVerucaSaltandMrSaltandMrsSalt!They’resimplycoveredwithrubbish!’

‘AndherecomesMikeTeavee!’saidGrandpaJoe.‘Goodheavens!Whathavetheydonetohim?He’sabouttenfeettallandthinasawire!’

‘They’veoverstretchedhimonthegum-stretchingmachine,’saidMrWonka.‘Howverycareless.’

‘Buthowdreadfulforhim!’criedCharlie.

‘Nonsense,’saidMrWonka,‘he’svery lucky.Everybasketball teamin thecountrywillbetryingtogethim.Butnow,’headded,‘itistimeweleftthesefoursillychildren.Ihavesomethingveryimportanttotalktoyouabout,mydearCharlie.’MrWonkapressed

anotherbutton,andtheliftswungupwardsintothesky.

30Charlie’sChocolateFactory

Thegreat glass liftwasnowhoveringhighover the town. Inside the lift stoodMrWonka,

GrandpaJoe,andlittleCharlie.

‘HowI lovemychocolate factory,’saidMrWonka,gazingdown.Thenhepaused,andhe turnedaroundand lookedatCharliewithamost seriousexpressiononhis face.‘Doyouloveittoo,Charlie?’heasked.

‘Oh,yes,’criedCharlie,‘Ithinkit’sthemostwonderfulplaceinthewholeworld!’

‘Iamverypleasedtohearyousaythat,’saidMrWonka,lookingmoreseriousthanever.HewentonstaringatCharlie.‘Yes,’hesaid,‘Iamverypleasedindeedtohearyousaythat.AndnowIshalltellyouwhy.’MrWonkacockedhisheadtoonesideandallatoncethetinytwinklingwrinklesofasmileappearedaroundthecornersofhiseyes,andhesaid,‘Yousee,mydearboy,Ihavedecidedtomakeyouapresentofthewholeplace.Assoonasyouareoldenoughtorunit,theentirefactorywillbecomeyours.’

CharliestaredatMrWonka.GrandpaJoeopenedhismouthtospeak,butnowordscameout.

‘It’squitetrue,’MrWonkasaid,smilingbroadlynow.‘Ireallyamgivingit toyou.That’sallright,isn’tit?’

‘Givingittohim?’gaspedGrandpaJoe.‘Youmustbejoking.’

‘I’mnotjoking,sir.I’mdeadlyserious.’

‘But…but…whyshouldyouwanttogiveyourfactorytolittleCharlie?’

‘Listen,’MrWonkasaid,‘I’manoldman.I’mmucholderthanyouthink.Ican’tgoonforever.I’vegotnochildrenofmyown,nofamilyatall.SowhoisgoingtorunthefactorywhenIgettoooldtodoitmyself?Someone’sgottokeepitgoing—ifonlyforthesakeoftheOompa-Loompas.Mindyou,therearethousandsofclevermenwhowouldgiveanythingforthechancetocomeinandtakeoverfromme,butIdon’twantthatsortofperson.Idon’twantagrown-uppersonatall.Agrown-upwon’tlistentome;hewon’tlearn.Hewilltrytodothingshisownwayandnotmine.SoIhavetohaveachild.Iwantagoodsensiblelovingchild,onetowhomIcantellallmymostprecioussweet-makingsecrets—whileIamstillalive.’

‘SothatiswhyyousentouttheGoldenTickets!’criedCharlie.

‘Exactly!’ saidMrWonka. ‘Idecided to invite fivechildren to the factory, and theoneIlikedbestattheendofthedaywouldbethewinner!’

‘ButMrWonka,’stammeredGrandpaJoe,‘doyoureallyandtrulymeanthatyouaregivingthewholeofthisenormousfactorytolittleCharlie?Afterall…’

‘There’snotimeforarguments!’criedMrWonka.‘Wemustgoatonceandfetchtherestofthefamily—Charlie’sfatherandhismotherandanyoneelsethat’saround!They

canall live in the factory fromnowon!Theycan all help to run it untilCharlie is oldenoughtodoitbyhimself!Wheredoyoulive,Charlie?’

Charlie peered down through the glass floor at the snow-covered houses that laybelow.‘It’sover there,’hesaid,pointing. ‘It’s that littlecottagerighton theedgeof thetown,thetinylittleone…’

‘Iseeit!’criedMrWonka,andhepressedsomemorebuttonsandtheliftshotdowntowardsCharlie’shouse.

‘I’mafraidmymotherwon’tcomewithus,’Charliesaidsadly.‘Whyevernot?’

‘Becauseshewon’t leaveGrandmaJosephineandGrandmaGeorginaandGrandpaGeorge.’

‘Buttheymustcometoo.’

‘They can’t,’Charlie said. ‘They’re very old and they haven’t been out of bed fortwentyyears.’

‘Thenwe’ll take the bed along aswell,with them in it,’ saidMrWonka. ‘There’splentyofroominthisliftforabed.’

‘Youcouldn’tgetthebedoutofthehouse,’saidGrandpaJoe.‘Itwon’tgothroughthedoor.’

‘Youmustn’tdespair!’criedMrWonka.‘Nothingisimpossible!Youwatch!’

TheliftwasnowhoveringovertheroofoftheBuckets’littlehouse.

‘Whatareyougoingtodo?’criedCharlie.

‘I’mgoingrightonintofetchthem,’saidMrWonka.

‘How?’askedGrandpaJoe.

‘Throughtheroof,’saidMrWonka,pressinganotherbutton.

‘No!’shoutedCharlie.

‘Stop!’shoutedGrandpaJoe.

CRASHwentthelift,rightdownthroughtheroofofthehouseintotheoldpeople’sbedroom.Showersofdustandbrokentilesandbitsofwoodandcockroachesandspidersandbricksandcementwent rainingdownon the threeoldoneswhowere lying inbed,andeachofthemthoughtthattheendoftheworldwascome.GrandmaGeorginafainted,Grandma Josephine dropped her false teeth, Grandpa George put his head under theblanket,andMrandMrsBucketcamerushinginfromthenextroom.

‘Saveus!’criedGrandmaJosephine.

‘Calmyourself,mydarlingwife,’saidGrandpaJoe,steppingoutofthelift.‘It’sonlyus.’

‘Mother!’criedCharlie,rushingintoMrsBucket’sarms.‘Mother!Mother!Listentowhat’shappened!We’reallgoingbacktoliveinMrWonka’sfactoryandwe’regoingtohelphimtorunitandhe’sgivenitalltomeand…and…and…and…’

‘Whatareyoutalkingabout?’saidMrsBucket.

‘Justlookatourhouse!’criedpoorMrBucket.‘It’sinruins!’

‘Mydearsir,’saidMrWonka,jumpingforwardandshakingMrBucketwarmlybythehand,‘I’msoverygladtomeetyou.Youmustn’tworryaboutyourhouse.Fromnowon,you’renevergoingtoneeditagain,anyway.’

‘Whoisthiscrazyman?’screamedGrandmaJosephine.‘Hecouldhavekilledusall.’‘This,’saidGrandpaJoe,‘isMrWillyWonkahimself

IttookquiteatimeforGrandpaJoeandCharlietoexplaintoeveryoneexactlywhathadbeenhappening to themallday.Andeven then theyall refused to rideback to thefactoryinthelift.

‘I’dratherdieinmybed!’shoutedGrandmaJosephine.

‘SowouldI!’criedGrandmaGeorgina.

‘Irefusetogo!’announcedGrandpaGeorge.

SoMrWonkaandGrandpaJoeandCharlie,takingnonoticeoftheirscreams,simplypushedthebedintothelift.TheypushedMrandMrsBucketinafterit.Thentheygotinthemselves.MrWonkapressedabutton.Thedoorsclosed.GrandmaGeorginascreamed.Andtheliftroseupoffthefloorandshotthroughtheholeintheroof,outintotheopensky.

Charlieclimbedontothebedandtriedtocalmthethreeoldpeoplewhowerestillpetrifiedwithfear.‘Pleasedon’tbefrightened,’hesaid.‘It’squitesafe.Andwe’regoingtothemostwonderfulplaceintheworld!’

‘Charlie’sright,’saidGrandpaJoe.

‘Will therebeanything toeatwhenweget there?’askedGrandmaJosephine. ‘I’mstarving!Thewholefamilyisstarving!’

‘Anythingtoeat?’criedCharlielaughing.‘Oh,youjustwaitandsee!’