Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

by Roald Dahl

But only five lucky children will be allowed inside. And the winners are: Augustus Gloop, an enormously fat boy whose hobby is eating; Veruca Salt, a spoiled-rotten brat whose parents are wrapped around her little finger; Violet Beauregarde, a dim-witted gum-chewer with the fastest jaws around; Mike Teavee, a toy pistol–toting gangster-in-training who is obsessed with television; and Charlie Bucket, Our Hero, a boy who is honest and kind, brave and true, and good and ready for the wildest time of his life!

“Of course it’s impossible!” cried Grandpa Joe. “It’s completely absurd! But Mr. Willy Wonka has done it!” “Quite right!” the others agreed, nodding their heads. “Mr. Wonka has done it.”

Charlie picked it up and tore off the wrapper . . . and suddenly . . . from underneath the wrapper . . . there came a brilliant flash of gold. Charlie’s heart stood still.

“It’s a Golden Ticket!” screamed the shopkeeper, leaping about a foot in the air. “You’ve got a Golden Ticket! You’ve found the last Golden Ticket! Hey, what do you know! Come and look at this, everybody! The kid’s found Wonka’s last Golden Ticket! There it is! It’s right there in his hands!”

And to Charlie, as he led him to the door, he whispered, “Don’t you let anybody have it! Take it straight home, quickly, before you lose it! Run all the way and don’t stop till you get there, you understand?”

“You know something,” the fat shopkeeper said, pausing a moment and smiling at Charlie, “I have a feeling you needed a break like this. I’m awfully glad you got it. Good luck to you, sonny.”

They are wonderful workers. They all speak English now. They love dancing and music. They are always making up songs.

“He’ll be chocolate fudge!” shrieked Mrs. Gloop. “Never!” cried Mr. Wonka. “Of course he will!” shrieked Mrs. Gloop. “I wouldn’t allow it!” cried Mr. Wonka. “And why not?” shrieked Mrs. Gloop. “Because the taste would be terrible,” said Mr. Wonka. “Just imagine it! Augustus-flavored chocolate-coated Gloop! No one would buy it.”

“Whips!” cried Veruca Salt. “What on earth do you use whips for?” “For whipping cream, of course,” said Mr. Wonka. “How can you whip cream without whips? Whipped cream isn’t whipped cream at all unless it’s been whipped with whips. Just as a poached egg isn’t a poached egg unless it’s been stolen from the woods in the dead of night! Row on, please!”

“He should have burped,” Charlie said. “Of course he should have burped,” said Mr. Wonka. “I stood there shouting, ‘Burp, you silly ass, burp, or you’ll never come down again! But he didn’t or couldn’t or wouldn’t, I don’t know which. Maybe he was too polite. He must be on the moon by now.”