"All you had to do was track the manufacturing dates, offset by the weather and the derivative of the Nikkei Index. A retard could figure it out."
Mike Teavee was a prick of a child from Denver, Colorado. He was rotten, no doubt about it. Reckless. And he cheated, finding out exactly where one of the Golden Tickets would be.
Mr. Teavee explained to the news reporters, "Most of the time I don't know what he's talking about. You know, kids these days, what with all the technology..."
Suddenly, Mike shouted at the top of his lungs, screaming at his video game he played while being interviewed. "Die! Die! Die!"
Mr. Teavee sighed, seeming bored and hopeless. "Doesn't seem like they stay kids very long."
Mike threw his controller onto the floor, and finally looked up at the reporters. "In the end, I only had to buy one candy bar."
A press man asked Mike, "And how did it taste?"
Mike shrugged. "I don't know. I hate chocolate."
Those words set both Grandpa George and I off. I bit my tongue, clenching my hands into tight fists, thinking not-very-nice thoughts about the little brat.
Grandpa George went on a full-blown rant, on the other hand. "Well, it's a good thing you're going to a chocolate factory, you ungrateful little—"
I covered my ears, not wanting to hear such vulgar words. Mr. Bucket covered Charlie's ears as well. I looked at Mr. Bucket smugly. He half-heartedly smiled back.
Grandpa George huffed a final breath, slumping back. I uncovered my ears as Mr. Bucket uncovered Charlie's.
We continued watching the news. The man on the news then stated the question everyone in the world was wondering. "That question is, who will be the winner of the last gold—"
Charlie switched the television off, and faced his dad, a curious expression appearing on his face. "Dad?
Mr. Bucket replied, "Yes, Charlie?"
"Why aren't you at work?" my little brother wondered.
I frowned at his question, knowing the real answer.
Mr. Bucket lied a little to save Charlie from worrying. "Oh, well, er, the toothpaste factory thought they'd give me a bit of time off."
Charlie wondered, "Like summer vacation?"
Mr. Bucket nodded and smiled gently.
"Sure. Something like that."
He looked up at me and I nodded back at him in understanding. I would say the same to him if I had lost my job.
The recent upswing in candy sales had led to a rise in cavities, which led to a rise in toothpaste sales. This gave the toothpaste factory the opportunity to remove the workers and replace them with machines. With the extra money, the factory had decided to modernize, eliminating Mr. Bucket's job completely.
Mr. Bucket walked outside to go and help Mrs. Bucket gather cabbages for dinner. I went outside to help as well, overhearing Mr. Bucket tell Mrs. Bucket, "We were barely making ends meet as it was."
Mrs. Bucket faced him and reassured him, "You'll find another job. Until then, I'll just, um... Well, I'll just thin down the soup a little more. Don't worry, Mr. Bucket, our luck will change. I know it."
"She's right, Mr. Bucket. Everything will turn out okay in the end. It always does. If you want, you can have my job," I offered, startling them by accident.
"No no, Mary. You keep your job best you can. Because jobs are hard to come by these days. Thank you for the thought, though." He smiled at me and continued helping Mrs. Bucket. I carried the three cabbages I held inside.
We all had dinner quietly, and one by one, each member of the Bucket family fell asleep. I remained awake, however, sitting by the grandparents' bed. My mind was racing with thoughts, my imagination running wild with ideas of the factory and Mr. Wonka.
But I was jarred from my train of thought when I heard Grandpa Joe call Charlie's name in a hushed voice. "Charlie."
I looked at Grandpa Joe, curiosity sparking inside me. He gave me a sly grin, and we both looked up at Charlie who was looking down at us. Grandpa Joe motions for him to come downstairs.
Charlie snuck downstairs and came to us. Grandpa Joe presented to him one silver dollar. "My secret hoard. We, are going to have one more fling... at finding that last ticket."
He handed Charlie the coin. Charlie asked him, "Are you sure you want to spend your money on that, Grandpa?"
Grandpa Joe looked at him incredulously, and whispered, "Of course I'm sure. Here. Run down to the nearest store with Mary, and buy the first Wonka candy bar you see. Bring it straight back, and we'll open it together."
We both nodded and I took Charlie's hand, walking to the door. I heard Grandpa Joe murmur sleepily, "Such a good boy, really. Ah, such a good..."
We raced to the nearest store like Grandpa Joe told us to. Thank goodness it was open this late at night! We grabbed the nearest Wonka bar and paid the man with the silver dollar. We hurry back home, smiling.
When we snuck back inside, we noticed Grandpa Joe fell asleep again. Charlie went up to him and tugged his sleeve. "Grandpa? You fell asleep."
Grandpa Joe awoke with a start, relaxing when he noticed Charlie and I. Then, he asked us, "Have you got it?"
Charlie revealed the Wonka bar to him, and his expression enlightened at its sight. He wondered, "Which end should we open first?"
Charlie said, "Just do it quick, like a band-aid."
I watched them with anxiety. And when we all saw the bar, it was barren of that glimmering gold. We slumped a little at that, then we split up the candy bar, eating it in silence. I nibbled my pieces of chocolate, my curiosity growing for Mr. Wonka as I tasted the delicious sweetness.
"It's okay Charlie. There is still one more Golden Ticket out there," I whispered to him as we went upstairs to go to bed.
<><><>The Next Day<><><>
I walked Charlie home from school, since my shift ended early today.
While we were walking, we stopped by Mr. Wonka's factory, admiring its vast stature from outside the front gate. Two men walked past us as we observed the factory, talking.
"Did you see that some kid in Russia found the last golden ticket?" one man said.
"Yes, it was in the paper this morning," said the other.
We both looked at the two men, and then at each other. I wrapped my arm around him as we walked home.
We were just about to reach the candy shop I work at when Charlie froze.
"What is it, Charlie?" I asked him. I noticed him leaning down to pick up a ten-dollar bill he spotted. We looked at it in wonder, then at each other.
"Do you know what this means?" I asked him, and we raced into the candy shop, eager to get some sweet Wonka chocolate.
He walked up to the counter and said, "One Wonka Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight, please."
The shopkeeper nodded and pointed to where they were. "Okay. Here."
Charlie reached for one, and then stops. He said, "You pick it out."
"No you found the money, you pick the chocolate bar," I stated, shaking my head. He shrugged and picked the one in front of him. I handed my boss the ten-dollar bill, getting the remaining change back.
I look back at Charlie, who was beginning to unwrap the bar. A woman in the store who was watching the television said, "The nerve of some people."
I furrowed my brow, looking up at the television. The newscaster said, "The last Golden Ticket Winner was a sham. There is still one last Ticket remaining."
My boss then said, "I know. Forging a ticket. Come on."
I frown and look back at Charlie, who wasn't holding a chocolate bar any more, but something far more fantastic.
He found it.
The last Golden Ticket.
"It's a golden ticket. You found Wonka's last golden ticket. In my shop, too!" my boss cheered gleefully. The woman and another man in the shop came right up to Charlie.
The man began to bribe Charlie, and this infuriated me. "Listen. I'll buy it from you. I'll give you fifty dollars, and a new bicycle."
The woman was no better. "Are you crazy? I'd give him five-hundred dollars for that ticket. You wanna sell me your ticket for five-hundred dollars, young man?"
My boss was able to get them off of Charlie. "That's enough of that! Leave the kid alone!"
He leaned down to Charlie and I, and said, "Listen, don't let anyone have it. Take it straight home. You understand?"
A smile creeped onto my face, and I grab Charlie's hand. Charlie smiled at me and then at my boss. "Thank you."
We raced home, laughing and shouting. When we neared the door, Charlie began to yell, "Mom! Dad! I found it!"
We barged through the door as Charlie exclaimed, "The last golden ticket! It's mine!"
Grandpa Joe grinned ear-to-ear. Charlie handed him the ticket, and he read it, his grin stretching even more.
"Yippee!" Grandpa Joe got so excited, that he leaped out of bed and danced a little jig of joy.
He noticed Mr. and Mrs. Bucket's shocked faces, who've dropped everything in their hands and took it.
"Here," he said. "Read it aloud. Let's hear exactly what it says."
Mr. Bucket read the Ticket aloud, Mrs. Bucket leaning over his shoulder. "'Greetings to you, the lucky finder of this golden ticket, from Mr. Willy Wonka. I shake you warmly by the hand. For now, I do invite you to come to my factory and be my guest for one whole day. I, Willy Wonka, will conduct you around the factory myself, showing you everything there is to see. 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. And remember, one of you lucky five children will receive an extra prize beyond your wildest imagination. Now, here are your instructions. On the first of February, you must come to the factory gates at ten a.m. sharp. You're allowed to bring one member of your family to look after you. Until then, Willy Wonka'."
Mrs. Bucket reread, "'The first of February'. But that's tomorrow!"
Grandpa Joe faced Charlie, and in one breath, he ordered, "Then there's not a moment to lose! Wash your face, comb your hair, scrub your hands, brush your teeth, blow your nose—"
"And get that mud off your pants," Grandpa George finished.
Mrs. Bucket noticed the excitement growing in the room and demanded, "Now we must all try and keep very calm. First thing that we have to decide is this: Who is going, with Charlie, to the factory?"
"I will. I'll take him. You leave it to me," Grandpa Joe said quickly.
Mrs. Bucket asked Mr. Bucket, "How about you, dear? Don't you think you ought to go?"
Mr. Bucket looked at me, and said, "What about Mary? It'd be good for her to experience something wonderful like that."
Grandpa Joe threw his gaze at me, exclaiming, "I agree! You should go! Besides, I have already been in there once."
I smiled and raised my hand in denial. "I'd love to but—"
Before I could say anything more, Charlie cut in quietly, "No. We're not going. A woman offered me five-hundred dollars for the ticket. I bet someone else would pay more. We need the money more than we need the chocolate."
All of our shoulders slumped at Charlie's notion, knowing deep down, he had a point.
Grandpa George raised his gaze. "Young man, come here."
He gestured to Charlie to come over to him. Grandpa George then explained to Charlie, "There's plenty of money out there. They print more every day. But this ticket, there's only five 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. Are you a dummy?"
Charlie shook his head. "No, sir."
Grandpa George ordered incredulously, "Then get that mud off your pants. You've got a factory to go to!"