Charlie And The Chocolate Factory - Male OC Insert

Chapter 8 - Mud Off Your Pants

"Mum, Dad! I found it!" Charlie screamed as he burst through the front door, rushing in on his family like a hurricane. "I found the last Golden Ticket! It's mine!" He eagerly handed it to Grandpa Joe, who leaned forward and examined it closely.

There was silence for several seconds. Then very slowly, a marvellous grin spread across Grandpa Joe's face. The colour returned to his cheeks and his eyes were wide open, shining with joy.

"Yippeeee!!" Grandpa Joe, who hadn't been out of bed in the last twenty years, threw up his arms, jumped out of bed and started doing a victory dance in his pyjamas.

At this point, Mr. and Mrs. Bucket walked in, utterly confused, and a little frightened by this change of events.

"Here! Read it aloud! Let's hear exactly what it says." Grandpa Joe exclaimed, handing the ticket to Mr. Bucket, who began reading.

"Greetings to you, the lucky finder of this Golden Ticket from Mr. Willy Wonka. I shake you warmly by the hand, for now I invite you to come to my factory and be my guest for one whole day!"

In different parts of the world, the other five Golden Ticket winners were coincidentally reading theirs at the same time.

"I will conduct you around the factory myself, showing you everything there is to see." Violet read further.

"Afterwards, when it is time to leave, you will be escorted home by a procession of large trucks, each one filled with all the chocolate you could ever eat." Augustus continued, reading the last part with a gleam in his eye.

"And remember, one of you lucky six children will receive an extra prize beyond your wildest imagination." Veruca went on. "Now, here are your instructions."

"On the first of February you must come to the factory gates at 10 AM sharp." Mike read.

"You are allowed to bring one member of your family to look after you. Until then, Willy Wonka." Nolan finished.

"The first of February... that's tomorrow!" Mrs. Bucket realised.

"Then we've not a moment to lose!" Grandpa Joe exclaimed excitedly. "Come on, Charlie! Wash your face, brush your hair, blow your nose, clean your teeth–"

"Get that mud off your pants." Grandpa George interjected.

"Now we must all try and keep very calm." Mrs. Bucket said, restoring order. "First, we have to decide who will go with Charlie to the factory."

"I will!" Grandpa Joe said immediately. "I'll take him! You leave it to me!"

Mrs. Bucket turned to her husband. "How about you, dear?" She asked.

"Well, Grandpa Joe knows more about it than we do, and well, proved that he feels well enough..." Mr. Bucket stated, still slightly confused.

"No. We're not going." Charlie said suddenly, and everyone stopped to look at him. "A woman offered me five hundred pounds for the ticket, and I bet someone else would pay more. We need the money more than we need the chocolate."

"Young man, come here." Grandpa George said. "There's plenty of money out there, they print more every day. But this ticket, there's only six of them in the whole world, and that's all there's ever going to be. Only a dummy would give this up for something as common as money."

Grandpa George leaned closer. "Are you a dummy?" He asked Charlie.

"No, sir." The boy responded.

"Then get that mud off your pants, you've got a factory to go to!"

Nolan wished to take both his parents with him to England, but for his father to accompany him to the factory. Mrs. Connelly agreed to come along, as she had missed London since the last time she performed there when she was much younger. With that all settled, Mr. Connelly immediately telephoned American Airlines to book three seats on the last flight from New York to London.

Three hours later, Nolan had fallen asleep on the plane, listening to his father's new album Watching Life Pass From the Sidelines on his headphones.