Disclaimer: I am not one of the lucky copyright holders of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in its many forms. I don't own anything at all. But I do hope you find this just for fun, not for profit, perhaps elucidating, gentle parody, entertaining.

SNAPE IS SNAPE: Willy does take his sweet time mulling things over, but once he decides, he's a real Johnny-on-the-spot. Thanks for your review. dionne dance: Not having another chance in this story, thanks again for your reviews. Enjoy the spiders.

Roald Dahl enjoyed a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay so much, he used it as his motto:

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!

If ever there were an appropriate day to end a Roald Dahl character based story, this is it, and so I do.

"Why did we really do that?" They were all back in the Chocolate Room, and Charlie had run ahead to check out the boat. Terence wanted to know.

"Do what?" was Willy's distracted reply. He was reading something on a clipboard one of the Oompa-Loompas had brought him. He handed the clipboard back, signing 'later', and then, changing his mind, he signed, 'tomorrow'.

The Oompa-Loompa bowed, and hurried off, and Willy turned round to find Terence staring blankly ahead, as if he'd seen an alien, or a reversal of gravity. "What?"

"That was a clipboard."

"A remarkable item that makes it easy to organize papers on the go. I saw you with one at your shop."

"But it seems so out-of-place in this room."

Willy chuckled and strode purposefully toward the boat. "I'm not running this Factory in an alternate dimension. Clipboards are only strange if you think I am, and if you think I am, I may have to start worrying about your grounding in this dimension. Ha!" To let Terence catch up, Willy turned and walked backward, overcome with giggles that he'd turned the 'crazy' tables on Terence. "Why did we do what?"

Terence jogged to close the gap. "You know what: go to the Buckets. You know you could have sent me."

"And miss a chance to ride around in The Great Glass Elevator?" Stopping, Willy's disbelief and the giggles made him breathless. "Are you kidding? Besides, this way Charlie gets to get both rides: he doesn't have to decide."

Willy swung back around, and was heading for the river again. Caught off guard, Terence caught up, and fell into step.

"Willy."

"Terence."

"Why did we really do that?"

"Ha! You don't believe me!" Willy laughed, and threw his walking stick into the air, catching it deftly, turning sparkling eyes to Terence. "But it's true!" His eyes back on the path, Willy willingly elaborated. "There's more than one reason for doing just about everything, and I have plenty more: you'd do better to ask what you really want answered."

Terence waited for Willy to tell him what that was, but Willy had the same idea, said nothing further, and waited for Terence to figure it out. "Willy, what was the main reason we went to see the Buckets'?"

"Ah!" cried Willy, gleefully. "Now you're getting somewhere. Why, it was 'undying gratitude', of course! We went to see what 'undying gratitude' looks like. That's a strictly in-person activity, and I'm glad I went. Certain people—not me—believe Charlie is a scarce commodity, demanding fierce competition for same, and if 'undying gratitude' doesn't compromise, I don't stand a chance. But if it does, I do, and it did, so 'undying gratitude' looks good. It looks like something I can work with." Willy peered from under his hat. "I needed to know that, before I continue this. On the other hand," his voice became wistful, "I figure I used up half my allotment of 'undying gratitude' today alone... but if I'm lucky, it's a renewable resource."

They had reached the bank, and Charlie was already in the boat.

"Ya ready, Charlie?" Willy stepped aside. "After you, Terence." When Terence had joined Charlie in the boat, Willy pushed the gunwale with his foot. "Meet cha down there," he cried, but in another fit of giggles, his foot still on the gunwale, he pulled the boat back, and jumped in. "Just kidding! Let's go! Unless you want to skip this, Charlie. The Elevator can take us there faster."

Charlie's face fell. He wanted to try everything.

Willy knew a 'no' when he saw one, and he happily signaled the go ahead to the rowers. The Oompa-Loompas pushed off from the bank, and Charlie's smile returned. The oars dipped into the chocolate river, the light making the chocolate gleam, as the oars raised. It looked good enough to eat, and what a good idea that was!

"Anyone want any of this stuff?" Willy asked. Seeing two eager nods, Willy reached under the bench seat and pulled out a mug. Scooping chocolate into it, he handed it to Charlie. "There's a mug under you, too, Terence. Hand it over." Terence did, and the process repeated.

The boat was drifting, and Willy turned to the rowers. "Everyone. It's tea time, except it's chocolate time. Everyone who wants some, have some, before we get started. We're going all the way to the mouth of the river this time, so drink up."

Terence took a sip, as the Oompa-Loompas reached under the benches they were on, and pulled out their own Oompa-Loompa sized mugs. The chocolate was deliciously indescribable, and with mugs for all, it was clear this was a ritual engaged in often. Only Willy didn't have any. "It goes to my head," he said, in answer to Terence's silent question, "and I can't have that now."

"Drunk?" Terence didn't believe it, even as he whispered it. Willy had always been far too controlling to let any drug hold sway over him.

Willy rolled his eyes at the lunacy of that suggestion. "Don't be silly. Dreamy."

The boat continued to drift with the current, until Charlie pointed out a tunnel ahead. Stowing the mugs, the Oompa-Loompas readied themselves, gripping the oars expertly. The grins were gone, replaced with looks of concentration. Terence took note, and glanced at Willy.

Willy carefully looked them both in the eye. "Hold on," he said, softly, and just in time. "It's not only the Fall that mixes the chocolate." A moment later, the boat took off, down churning chocolate rapids.

It was a spectacular ride, and Charlie thanked his lucky stars he'd gone on it today, and not a week and a-half ago: he was pretty sure he'd have fallen out of the boat. The rapids were one thing: thrilling and wonderful, the wind in your face making your hair fly back, but Willy and the Oompa-Loompas loved making 'cookies', and every chance they got, when the river was wide enough, and the boat was going fast enough, they practiced the move, the boat swapping ends in a complete circle. Charlie liked them, but un-used to anything like it, they made his head spin.

Fortunately, there were plenty of calm stretches, where you could catch your breath, and realize just how huge this Factory really was. Willy pointed out room after room, and these were just the rooms along the river. When they passed The Inventing Room, after pointing it out, Willy stood up in the boat and blew it kisses. "I love that room," he said, as he plunked back down. "Are we there, yet?"

"Not yet," said Terence, bracing for the next set of rapids. "Another five minutes."

Willy laughed, because Terence was so wrong. They were barely a quarter of the way.

Very tamely, the river ended in a horizon pool. Most of the chocolate had siphoned out along the way, pipes bringing the life-giving fluid to confectionary processes going on in the passing rooms, all the while sapping the river's own life.

The pool was shallow, and calm, and what lay beyond the horizon pool was hard to see: the lighting was dim, and murky, but it was a room that absorbed sound, and that quality gave away that the room was vast, and deep. Dark clouds loomed in the murk, and at intervals, dark rain fell from their bottoms, in measured streams.

The boat glided to a stop in its own special berth.

"We're here, yet," said Willy, in a hushed tone, looking almost furtive. "I don't come here much. Compared to the rest of the Factory, it's not a happy place, and I avoid it. Come on." Deliberately making his way from the boat to the flagstone pavers that formed the edge of the pool, Willy turned and bowed to the Oompa-Loompas. "Thanks everyone. That was great! Put the yacht away, and take the rest of the day off."

There were a few giggles—Willy was being silly, the day being about shot anyway—and Willy smiled tightly in return. He was being silly, in a poor attempt to cheer himself up. Terence and Charlie added their own thanks, clapping in appreciation. The Oompa-Loompas nodded graciously back, taking it all in stride.

Charlie had joined Willy on the flagstones. "Do they have to row the boat back up the river?"

Willy glanced down at Charlie. "Not something I'd want to try." He turned to the Oompa-Loompa who had set pace for the rowers, with the drum in the bow of the boat. "Show him, please."

Willy hardly needed to say anything: what he wanted shown was already in motion. A number of the crew were already out of the boat, and closing the doors of the lock that made the berth special.

"In a minute, they'll open valves that will pump the chocolate out of the lock. When it's dry, the hydraulic lift the lock is on, will lower the whole shebang to the tunnel that runs beneath the river. Well... not exactly beneath the river: I've straightened the curves, but once it's there, a belt will convey the yacht back to the Chocolate Room, where the process will reverse, and she'll be ready for the next run. Simple. Time to go look at the spiders."

Terence had joined them, and Willy pivoted to face the looming expanse of dimly seen, dimly heard, droning machines, and the dark clouds. He took a step toward what looked like the edge of the world, and when they followed, he whirled with outstretched arm and walking stick, barring their way. "Here there be dragons," he purred, in a pirate's growl, bending toward them ominously.

Their startled expressions delighted him, and standing back up, rocking on his heels, Willy smiled warmly. He had their complete attention. "That's what they used to write on the maps when they got to the edge of what they had explored. It was a great excuse for not having more on the map, and it meant danger. And that's what I mean. I am telling you this is a dangerous room. Terence, your job is to look after Charlie. Charlie, your job is to look after yourself. If you have time, look after Terence."

"What's your job?" asked Terence.

"My job, is to tell you both, that physics, and machinery, are no respecter of persons, and by that I mean they don't care who you are, how nice you are, how mean you are, how rich, how poor, how powerful, how humble, or how evil, or saint like you are: if you fall off a catwalk you will fall... and break all your little bones, and if you get caught in the machinery... it will slice you, or dice you, or chop you, or stamp you, or do whatever it does, and it will mean a lot to you, but it will mean nothing to the machine!

"Unless," Terence spoke up, "your interference breaks the machine. That would mean something to it, and make it very sad. I've seen machines cry oil, or hydraulic fluid, all over the place, when they get hurt."

It was an excellent point, and Terence was probably the only person Willy knew, other than himself, who would see it from that perspective, and say it out loud. It was one of the reasons Willy liked him. "Not to mention fuel, but the machine still comes out ahead: repairing a machine is easy. Repairing you is another matter. Machines, and the laws of nature are indifferent, and it helps loads if your own failings don't blind you into disregarding that, but..."

"Like feeding your face and falling in a river?"

"Like ambition trumping discretion?"

"Like greed making you take what's not yours?"

"Like intellectual arrogance clouding your judgment?"

"And shrinking your stature?" Willy happily joined in. "Yeah, like that." The Charlie-Terence back and forth thrilled Willy—they got it—but they still needed to get it. "Those kids, giving free rein like they did, to those traits that they had, made it easier for the Factory… I mean, for those things to happen to them, but those things could happen to anyone. So I'm saying, be careful." Drawing himself to his full height, Willy, unable to let it go, gave one last admonition. "I, myself, walk on water..." he paused dramatically, "...when it's frozen, or less than a quarter-inch deep… and keep my wits about me, but even I've had my share of mishaps."

Charlie laughed. Willy was really worried. "I'll be careful."

"Me, too."

Finally satisfied by the verbal assurances, Willy led the way.

There were lots of machines, and conveyor belts in the room. Rows and rows and rows of them. The room was bigger than any they'd seen so far, and it was at least three stories high. As near as Terence could figure, they were at second story level. Willy had led them to the edge of the river's surround, where steps had led them to a catwalk beside one of the conveyor belts. Once on the catwalk, Charlie and Terence could see the dark clouds weren't clouds at all. They were reservoirs, filled with chocolate, and the 'rain' was the chocolate being dispensed, into molds, making Wonka bars.

The clipboard would fit right in here, Terence thought, and that thought was kind of creepy, in an establishment like Wonka's. "Why is this room so dark?" The only lights in this part of the room were on the reservoirs themselves.

Charlie silently agreed: the cavernous room was dark. It wasn't like any part of the Factory he had seen so far, except for the attention lavished, on the little he could see, to make the details as beautiful as possible, that was Willy's trademark. Still, it was a different world: dark and sad, and Charlie didn't see how they would find spiders, or anything else, in all this gloom.

"Life begins in the dark. This is where the short, happy life of my chocolate bars begin."

"You think they're alive?"

Willy pouted at Terence's obtuseness. "Yes, the same way your cat was alive, earlier today: figuratively." Willy began to walk along the catwalk. "Watch your step, and follow along. The various dispensers in this room are variously filled with modified chocolate that comes from all over the Factory. These happen to contain the makings of Nutty Crunch Surprise."

"Not the chocolate from the river?"

"No, that's plain, and the river ends in those dispensers, on the level below this catwalk. You can see the pipes that fill them from the mouth of the river." Willy pointed with his walking stick.

Charlie smiled. "The button in the Elevator: 'Fill By Mouth'. It takes you here."

Willy beamed. "Precisely!"

Willy walked ahead, the grey of his clothing effectively reflecting what little light there was, making him stand out on the catwalk like a beacon. The color worked as well in this room as it had in the Chocolate Room, and Charlie, as he picked his way carefully, wondered if that was something Willy planned.

"Like everything else, my chocolate bars begin life unformed, but once they've found a cozy home in the nest of these molds, that all changes." They had reached a section of the conveyor with overhead fans. "Here, the fans pull the warm air heated by the bars away, cooling them, and their characters begin to solidify." Willy moved on. "When they're cool enough, they're stamped with the markings of who they are, and their individual identities take shape." He stopped. "You know what happens then."

Terence shook his head.

"They yearn to leave the nest, of course! Face the world, and take it on! Isn't that what we all try to do?" Willy moved on again, but was soon at the end of the catwalk. "And so they do."

Charlie and Terence gathered round. The conveyor ended in a drop, but as the bars in their mold-nests fell, a metal hand, rising on a tower rescued them, and raised them up, a second metal hand soon joining the first, cradling the mold securely. Rising higher and higher every second, the metal hands flipped the bars, freeing them from the molds, which whisked away. Now free, the bars were still securely held by the metallic hands, as they rose higher still.

"It's like college," sighed Willy, as he watched. "Out of the nest, but structure to hold you, so you don't fall."

College didn't last long. At the top of the tower, the cradling hand transferred the bar to a tray, suspended from a parachute. The transfer was tricky, and a marvel to watch. Charlie had his eyes glued to the process, waiting for a fumble in the lines, but it didn't happen. He noticed something else. "The parachutes are so brightly lit!"

Willy was starting down a narrow spiral stairway that would take them to the first story level. "They are. The future is bright when you truly spread your wings, and take off on your own. Your dreams, and your high hopes for a better tomorrow, light your way."

The parachutes descended in a lazy, controlled spiral, each one attached to a line that gradually lengthened. Terence followed Willy and Charlie down the stairway. "Parachutes do nothing but descend, Willy."

"Perfect for candy, which has no ambition, and exists only as one of life's joys. This slow spiral is a lovely, smooth, free-floating excursion for my darling chocolate bars: and look at this soft landing, after this happy adventure, in what looks like a safe, new home."

They had reached the conveyor belt below, and the trays under the parachutes were dropping the bars on top of the foil and paper that would become their wrappings. "How do they do that?" asked Charlie. Every machine and process he had seen so far was beautifully marvelous.

"When the cord reaches its full length, it retracts, and the change in momentum pulls the doors in the tray apart." Willy stood completely still for a moment as the chocolate bars disappeared down the moving belt. The light of the parachutes was gone, and the gloom had returned. "Spiders are interesting creatures: they spin webs, and then sit in the middle, and wait. When something is caught in a strand of the web, the strand vibrates, alerting the spider." Willy began walking again. "The spider hurries to the spot, and wraps up the hapless morsel, for devouring later." His voice began to get dreamy, and faint. "That's what my spiders do. They wrap. This conveyor is a strand in their web..."

"And the chocolate bars are the tasty morsels, that the spiders wrap up, so we can eat them later," said Terence.

Willy smiled wanly. "Yes," he said. It was nice to have someone else do the talking, especially when the person talking made the metaphor sound friendly. It wasn't. The spiders were bittersweet—designed when he was angrier with the world than he was now—but he felt them still appropriate, and they worked so well, he hadn't changed them. But maybe they weren't something he should show Charlie, after all. The spiders were fierce. Too bad, so sad, too late now. "There they are," he gestured, not otherwise moving, "just ahead."

Willy stepped aside to let Charlie and Terence move past him, bringing up the rear, resigning himself to his fate, hinging as it did on their reactions to these spiders.

The spiders were machines, and like the parachutes, they had plenty of light to see their prey, because you only had to watch for a moment to know the unsuspecting chocolate bars were the spider's deliberate prey.

Each conveyor had three spiders hovering over it, and as the chocolate bars passed beneath, they pounced with their round, lighted bodies, and eight legs, wrapping the bars with a vengeance. One set of four legs, each tipped with nimble claws, tackled the inner foil, with the outer paper tackled by the other set of legs. With the task complete, the spider sprang back, ready to pounce on the next bar. Charlie thought it glorious! Even better, the attacks were staggered, to make the chocolate bar—as if it could think—think it could stay, think it had escaped, only to be caught by the next lurking spider: the hopes of the poor, defenseless, bar dashed; its fate sealed: leave the Factory it must.

It was wonderful! After watching, mesmerized for minutes, the intricate dance of these delicately sturdy, vicious creatures, Charlie burst into peals of laughter. Charlie had spent all the life he could remember, walking side by side with deprivation, the shadowy specter of starvation at his shoulder, so the dark side of life was nothing new to him. It was the companion who never left him, but about whom he could never speak, because Charlie loved what he did have, dearly, and speaking about the other would make him seem ungrateful, and he wasn't ungrateful. So Charlie mentioned it to no one, and no one mentioned it to him, the whole world in on the conspiracy, as if ignoring it would make it go away. But it hadn't yet, and seeing these spiders, Charlie knew he could talk about the darkness with Willy, without seeming ungrateful. These spiders were dark, and Willy had made them. Willy had a dark side, like the moon: hidden, and unseen, except from the right vantage point. These spiders were the right vantage point. Even with all that he had, Willy walked with darkness too, and he would understand. Charlie's relief was like a dam, breaking.

Willy stepped up, an odd smile on his face. This was not the reaction he envisioned. He knew relief when he heard it, and Charlie was laughing with relief.

Charlie could hardly catch his breath he was so overcome. The spiders told other secrets. No wonder Willy never left his Factory! He thought only victims left it! Willy was staring at him strangely: Charlie knew he must say something, and he knew just what. "These are awesome Willy! Those chocolate bars don't stand a chance."

Willy's smile was expansive. Charlie got it! "When I set this up, bound and gagged was the only way I could see anything leaving the Factory, and who better to do it than spiders? But the chocolate and other candy had to leave: joy is sweetest shared."

Terence liked the spiders, too. The macabre performing the mandatory: interesting, and expressive. "When did you design these?"

"Right after the Factory closed. Designed, prototyped, perfected, but not put into production. The experiment was, how much Factory work can only machines do? The answer was not enough, but even after I found the Oompa-Loompas to help me, this room has stayed about the same. What happens here is crushingly mundane, and I keep it cold here, so the fewer the number of Oompa-Loompas involved, the better." Willy turned his back to them, to watch the spiders. "I used to spend a lot of time here, but over the last few years, I've hardly spent any time here at all." He put both hands on the walking stick he held in front of him. "The last time I was here, it was to put Golden Tickets in chocolate bars, and I did that right here, right where we're standing. You got the last one, Charlie."

Reminded of the Golden Ticket, and how he got it, Charlie thought about everything that had happened to him since. So much change, in so little time, and all for the better: not just for him, but for his family, too. There could have been even more, but he turned it down, and now, after the days gone by, he wished he hadn't. Could he fix that? He couldn't very well say he thought he could make candy. That hadn't changed. Willy might give him the credit, but Willy had come up with that window idea himself, from a comment. Commenting is not making candy. Charlie tried to think of something else, as he listened to the clicking of the spiders, and the crackle of the foil, and the crinkle of the wrapping paper. The spiders... "Mr. Wonka?"

The smile in Willy's eyes reached the corners of his mouth. What a clever way for Charlie to alert him Charlie's next question was a serious one. "Yes, Mr. Bucket?" he answered in kind, keeping his back turned. Willy was serious, too. It took all he had, when Charlie started to laugh, not to ask Charlie again, to wait for Charlie to ask, and it was all he could do now, not to turn around in anticipation.

"Would you teach me how to make things like these spiders, and this Factory, please?"

Willy turned around slowly, eyes alight. "YES!" he said, grabbing Charlie's hand, and shaking it profusely. "If you'll sign on as my apprentice, I'll teach you everything you want to learn. Will you?"

Charlie nodded, too overjoyed to speak, wondering if his arm would fall off. It didn't, and Willy let go.

"The job comes with perks. The first is... you get to work with ME! Ha!" With a smirk, Willy adjusted his frock coat, a frock coat that needed no adjusting. He knew that for him, the next part was like swallowing burnt cod liver oil, and it required working up to. "The second is... you can come live in the Factory."

Charlie kept the smile on his face, but it froze. He couldn't do that without his family, and Willy would never let his, Charlie's family, live in the Factory.

Willy felt bad, for himself, about what he must do next, but he'd feel worse later, if he didn't do it. "You must also submit a design, today, before you leave the Factory, as an example of your work. Whatever design you submit today, will be the first project we do together. Do you have something you'd like to submit?"

Charlie gasped in disbelief. Mr. Wonka couldn't mean it. Sometimes you couldn't call him Willy: what was at stake was too important, and you needed some distance. And then again, sometimes distance was the wrong thing. Willy already had two of his drawings, but he'd given back the third. Did he do that so I'd have it, to hand to him now? But that would mean... fingering the rolled up drawing in his pocket, Charlie turned to Terence.

Terence nodded encouragingly, knowing the last thing Willy wanted was to pull teeth over this: even figuratively, dentistry was not his thing. Willy would lose his nerve, if Charlie didn't hurry up.

With his confidence bolstered by Terence's nod, Charlie handed over the drawing, and Willy, accepting it, cooed over it as if he had never seen it before. "Now there's an idea, and very well done. You, and your house, and all its contents, in the Chocolate Room. Very convenient. Solves all sorts of problems. Brilliant!" Charlie's look told Willy Charlie still didn't believe him, but feeling hugely magnanimous at this moment, he decided, to remove all doubt, to say the words. "And when I say 'contents', I mean your entire family. And now, we've not a moment to lose! If I'm not mistaken, a dinner engagement to discuss the details awaits us. Interested?"

Charlie, smiling his joy, nodded, and hurrying carefully, caught up with Willy, who was already ten steps ahead of everyone else, heading for the niche used by the Great Glass Elevator.

Terence followed leisurely after them, pleasantly pleased, that in on the beginning of this adventure, he was in on the end: Charlie had asked, and Willy had said 'yes'. The interview, begun in his shop, was over.

THE END