For School

- pt. I -

A cat call whistled casually out of his mouth as the young Aussie strolled down the walkway of Main Street. The girl at the receiving end of Kyle Davis’ gesture sought to ignore it, continuing on her merry way. A standard reaction he was used to getting and he chuckled to himself before reaching the big brick building he was in search of – One Stop.

He took a turn into the local service station, pushing open its heavy door. Kyle headed straight for the rack holding a mass array of Lays potato chips, taking a liking to a certain blue baggy. He grabbed the Salt & Vinegar chips and made a U-turn to the check-out counter.

“This all?” the fellow Australian on the other side of the counter asked, his accent heavier than most. Kyle began to nod, but his eyes caught sight of an infamous red and brown wrapper.

“Eh,” he muttered, limply grabbing a random Willy Wanka bar. “I guess I’ll take one of these.” He slid it onto the counter and went back to slumping out a wad of cash he hopped would cover it.

“Three dollars and six cents,” the cashier told him.

Kyle fetched out a twenty, handing over. As he waited for the change, his ears picked up the slightly incoherent buzz of the nearby telly hanging in the far right corner of the store. Bored, Kyle focused his eyes on the headline of today’s news.

He faintly made out the words ‘The Search Continues - Swedish Ticket a Fake!’ The blond news lady took over, but what she said was unbeknownst to Kyle. We all know he didn’t care much anyway. One part of her script rang louder than the rest.

“…There’s been talk of a sixth ticket. It’s still up for grabs since Sweden’s was a fake…”

In utter disinterest, Kyle grumbled a thanks to the cashier, taking his goods into his jumper’s front pocket.

Exiting, he tore into the Wonka bar, suddenly craving sweet over salty. He flicked off its initial wrapping and flung it to the ground, grinning at the old man who sneered at his actions.

Passing over the railroad crossing, blocks away from his father’s flat, he took a go at the brown sheet of parchment paper that stood between him and his chocolate bar. He ripped it diagonally, becoming impatient; another dreadful trait he possessed.

Also flinging that to the ground, he glanced back down only to get blinded by the sun catching the surface of something shinny. Kyle groaned and squinted down. His eyes filled with confusion as he stared at a small section of gold instead of his desired chocolate.

“What the…?”

A thought hit him abruptly and he tore the rest of the brown lining off. He gaped at what he could piece together as a Golden Ticket - the big bold letters told him that. His mind reeled back to the news lady.

‘The Search Continues - Swedish Ticket a Fake!’
…a sixth ticket…

Was this really it? He took a few quick glimpses around him, almost expecting a camera crew to jump out, screaming out that he had just been Punk’d. Getting nothing but the roar of a nearby beach, he began laughing in disbelief. There’s no way, he thought with incredible doubt. Nonetheless, no matter how much he told himself he didn’t care about winning the final Golden Ticket and how he was just going to wind up pawning it anyway, he found himself picking up his pace as he carried on down the long stretch of pavement, soon reaching his destination.

Barreling into the front door of the dingy flat, he found his father sprawled out in the living room sofa. A slight mixture of smoke and pizza forced itself up his nose. His father gave him a look of general distaste and boredom, even after Kyle stuck the chocolate bar in his face.

He raised his brows, tearing his eyes from the TV a second time.

“What’s this?” he mumbled out. Kyle smirked arrogantly.

“I found the last Golden Ticket,” he said haughtily. “Me,” he added, his smirk growing bigger. His father’s eyes flicked from him to the golden slip of decorative paper, then back at his son.

“Oh,” he spoke in an unidentifiable tone, nearly inaudible, then at a normal volume - “I don’t care. Get me a beer, would ya?”

“Is that all you have to say?” Kyle asked him incredulously. “I found a Golden Ticket; I get to meet Willy Wanka. Isn’t that brilliant?” Seeing the same look of indifference on his father’s face, he sighed in frustration. “Fine,” he snapped. “I’m taking Makalia with me.” His older sister. She has taken three more years of this world than Kyle has and managed to make it age twenty. Not getting a response other than a blank stare, Kyle stomped off to Makalia’s room, which laid at the end of the hall.

He faintly heard his father grumble out, “Hey, where’s my drink?”

- pt. II -

The twenty year old was oddly ecstatic about her brother’s find. Makalia spent ten minutes bashing Kyle’s ear with loud, girlish screams.

“We have to get there early,” she told him, slapping him against the head when he mocked her. “Aren’t you excited about this at all?” she asked him, plopping down her bed. He sat beside her with a shrug. He began smirking.

“I just hope he’s got some cute little employees.”

To that, Makalia shoved him to the floor.

The first thing Kyle noticed when he and his sister joined the growing crowd outside the notorious building dubbed Willy Wanka’s Chocolate Factor was the mass amount of girls. He found them all eligible of a gawking.

Makalia held her middle finger back with her thumb before flicking him hard against his bare forearm. When he scowled at her, she smiled sweetly. “Eyes on the prize,” she whispered to him arrogantly. “Chocolate.” Just then, there was a loud voice that came over the intercom.

“Will the six lucky finders of the Golden Ticket please step forward?” The tall steel gate clanked open unexpectantly, making everyone jump. Kyle and Makalia gave each other a look of caution, but took a few steps forward to stand side-by-side with the ten other ‘lucky’ visitors. Kyle’s eyes swept down the line, first coming in contact with Augustus Gloop. He grimaced at his round stomach.

He’ll eat the place up, he thought crudely, also giving a look to Augustus’ mother. Next up was blond little Violet Beauregard. She and her mother stood in matching blue jogging suits. If Violet was older, Kyle might’ve taken interest in her, but he, at age seventeen, was the eldest ticket winner here. The girl next to her seemed to be even younger and Kyle grumbled. Veruca Salt’s father saw Kyle’s gaze and followed it to his daughter. He hissed at him to look away. Kyle did after mocking him.

He got a quick glance at Charlie Bucket who stood near the end with his grandfather and thought they must’ve been poor. He didn’t think any rude thoughts about them, but felt slightly sympathetic instead. He knew what that was like.

He went to judge the next kid in line, Mike Teevee, but was interrupted by a loud clang. Everyone watched in confusion as the large front door of the building split open and in place of Willy Wanka was a stage of animated dolls.

Their prerecorded voices rang into the air with song. Kyle’s eyes went wide in shock. Makalia stood with her brow raised.

“What is this?” she asked aloud. She kept randomly asking that until it finally ended. Kyle’s head jerked to his left when he heard an unfamiliar voice.

Willy Wanka stood at his side with a big smile, his eyes covered by his wacky sunglasses. “Wasn’t that lovely?” he said to anyone who would answer him. Only receiving bewildered looks, his smile fell and he cleared his throat. “Well, right this way, then…”

They stayed in place, watching him saunter away before collectively voicing their confusion. Miss Veruca was the first to follow behind Mr. Wanka and, slowly, the rest tagged along.

Once inside, they pretended to listen to Wanka as he gave a brief verbal tour of the factory. They just cared about the chocolate. Mike, however, didn’t seem to care at all. At the back of the crowd, Kyle joined him.

“This is ridic,” he murmured to Mike, going full Australian by shortening his words. When Mike flicked his eyes to Kyle momentarily, Kyle continued. “He sure knows how to blab, doesn’t he? I’m about to just leave.” Mike didn’t react like Kyle had hoped.

Mike gave him a weird look and said, “You have a dumb accent.”

Kyle’s face scrunched into a scowl and he rolled his eyes, saying at full volume, “Can we please move on? I’m bored as can be.” Everyone’s head snapped to Kyle. Mike scooted away from him; Makalia knocked her brother on his shoulder.

“Kyle,” she hissed. He looked at her in surprise.

“What?” He pushed his way to the front of the group to meet face-to-face with Willy Wanka. “Hurry up; we came here for the chocolate. Not to listen to you groan about it.”

Wanka tore his eyes from Kyle, putting on a forced smile. “Well,” he said, looking around to each face in front of him. “Isn’t he lovely?” Kyle grimaced at Willy Wanka’s smiling face.

He muttered rudely, “You are absolutely wack-o.” Becoming increasingly impatient, Kyle pushed Willy Wanka aside, getting gasps of shock from everyone. His sister clasped her hand over her mouth, snapping out his name again. Kyle ignored her as he marched to a door located several feet away on the right side of the room.

Willy Wanka’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t open that door, if I were you,” he warned sheepishly.

“Oh, why not?” Kyle said with annoyance, gripping the latch. “’Cause it’s not next on the tour?” he added mockingly. “I don’t care.” Wanka tried to say the real reason, but his words were drowned out by the loud blast of liquid that shot out when Kyle pried open the door to the Cycle room.

Kyle was smacked right in the face with gallons of chocolate while everyone else hopped into the air, shrieking in shock. A groan fell out of his mouth and he shook his arms violently to get the chocolate off as a pool of it finished sloshing out the open door.

Wally Wanka peeped out, his voice cracking, “That’s why – that’s the Cycle room. It’s where the chocolate goes to be churned around and around. That’s what makes it so gosh darn airy.” He began smiling at the group. “Isn’t that just great? So simple, too – and taste great.”

Everyone stared at him then were startled again by Kyle groaning. Wanka said in remembrance, giving a look to him, “Oh, right. Uh,” He turned away to pull a huge old timey phone out of his purple velvet overcoat. He dialed indistinctively before pressing it to his ear. “Code brown for chocolate,” he said giddily into the phone. Just then, all around came these little men in slick, yellow jumpsuits. Kyle stared at them after wiping the chocolate from his eyes.

Were these his cute little employees Kyle really came here to see? What a waste, he thought in disgust. Wanka spoke to one who came right up to his side.

“Please take Mr. Kyle here to the wash room and get him cleaned up.”

The Oompa Loompa nodded then turned to Kyle, waving him over. Kyle gave an appalled look to it then at his sister, but slowly followed. Makalia exclaimed incoherently before running after him, flailing her arms around over exaggeratedly.

“Well.” The group looked up at Wanka. He smiled as he said, “At least he got his chocolate.”