This was originally going to be a really long story, complete with shootouts and senility, musical songs and dance, Uoompa-Loompa's living in crack dens, time-travelling Willy Wonka, a teenage whore, winning the lottery, and obviously, all of the spoiled priveleged white kids getting what's coming to them. But I didn't have enough good ideas, and then I saw the movie, and it really ruined all creative juices. So here's the first scene I wrote pre-movie:
Charlie and No Chocolate Factory:
This story starts, with a young boy, walking through a small street in his small town, as he cradled the money softly in his hand. The money in question, a single dollar bill, was only recently discovered by the boy, abandoned in the snow. The boy, dressed in an over-sized winter coat, over top of an extra-sized sweater, walked thoughtfully, contemplating what to do with the money. This boy's name was Charlie Bucket, and his family was very poor. The family of four grand-parents, two regular parents, and Charlie himself, were so poor that their son was dressed in old, large clothes, and more-often-than-not the family enjoyed a splendid cabbage soup for supper. Charlie sneezed. He was recovering from a cold.
The world itself was recovering, not from a cold, but from an overblown, over-the-top marketing scheme that was just 20% of being complete, by a man named Willy Wonka. The man, Mr. Wonka, was an inventor and a chef of chocolate and other candies, and his worldwide headquarters was the same, small town, that Charlie lived in. A massive factory at the top of a hill had many a smoke-stack sticking out, blowing gray, burnt refuse upwards, into the sky. Nobody ever went into the factory itself, and it was quite a mystery to some as to how he produced so much chocolate with no workers. There were lots of mysteries about Willy Wonka's chocolate facotry. Mr. Wonka himself was a very good chef. Everybody loved his chocolate. Except rival companies. They didn't love his chocolate.
The over-the-top marketing scheme in question, included handing out to five individuals world-wide, a tour of this mystery factory. The factory which had been sealed shut for many a year, the factory which held secret recipes and formulas and possibly even magic of some sort, the factory without workers, and the factory that supplied the world with enough chocolate to keep children buzzing between Easter and Halloween. Many people wanted to see this factory. And they could, if they bought a Wonka Bar of chocolate and found a Golden Ticket inside. This ploy had sent the world into a chocolate-buying frenzy, as tens of thousands of chocolate bars were sold to tens of thousands of people
(mostly children). Unfortunately for Charlie, all of the tickets were found by the white and priveleged, while Charlie was just white.
The first was gobbled up by a a germanic, privelaged white boy who ate a great deal of chocolate. The second was uncovered by a very priveleged white man, who bought an extravagent ammount of chocolate, and let a factory full of workers search for the ticket for him. He gave this ticket to his spoiled daughter. The third was found by a girl (white, priveleged), whose true passion was chewing gum. The fourth went to a couch-potato boy (also white and priveleged), and the media-circus had several different theories as to how he actually obtained the ticket. The last, and final ticket, lay waiting, for an eager, deserving boy to find it.
Charlie walked into the candy store, where the last ticket remained inside a Wonka Bar, in the middle of a rack of Wonka Bars. This particular bar, armed with a Golden Ticket, was face to face with Charlie as he walked up to the counter. Charlie was in the middle of reaching out and taking this bar, but was interrupted by a familiar voice. "Hey, Charlie!" Charlie turned around, to see Edward Daybot. Edward, with dark hair, was dressed in a Nine Inch Nails t-shirt underneath his forested, camaflague jacket. Edward was Charlie's best friend, in fact his only friend. Edward was not as rich as everybody else at school, but he was not as poor as Charlie. "You looking for the last golden ticket?" Edward asked jovially. "Nippy out, eh?" Charlie double-checked his pockets, to make sure he still has his dollar off the ground. "Yea, little bit," Charlie answered to both questions. "It's like the lottery, my dad says," Edward continued. "You're just as likely to win anything, whether you foot the bill or not. If I were you, I'd go for a Wonka whipple-scrumptious fudgemallow delight bar." "Really?" asks Charlie. "Oh yeah. Says right on it, 'ABSOLUTELY SCRUMDIDDLEYUMPTIOUS!' Cummon!" Charlie had watched a fellow classmate devour one of the ridiculously-long-named chocolate bars that day, and he agreed with Edward. Charlie paid the cashier and walked outside. Several seconds afterwards, Edward followed him out. "I got to eat this as I go home. Me mum's waiting for me," Charlie explained to Edward. "That's cool, I see you at school. Have a good day, that's what I say." Charlie and Edward walked in two different directions away from the candy shop. Charlie was at the corner before finishing his bonbon, and before he felt a pull. He marched quickly back into the shop and bought a Wonka Bar. "Just a hunch, eh?" he told the cashier, who shrugged. Charlie ripped back the wrapper excidedly, after saying a short prayer to God. There was nothing inside the wrapper but chocolate. "Shit."
Edward had walked several blocks, before remembering about the Wonka Bar. After Charlie left, Edward grabbed a Wonka Bar with his allowance, and followed his friend out. Edward ripped the wrapper off, and was very surprised to find a Golden Ticket in his hands. "Shit," he swore at nobody in particuliar.
"Hey officer.. .. Do you take Air Miles..?"