Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

by Roald Dahl

There is something about very cold weather that gives one an enormous appetite. Most of us find ourselves beginning to crave rich steaming stews and hot apple pies and all kinds of delicious warming dishes; and because we are all a great deal luckier than we realize, we usually get what we want—or near enough.

“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!”

Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet! What is happening to you!”

And the one remaining squirrel (obviously the leader of them all) climbed up on to her shoulder and started tap-tap-tapping the wretched girl’s head with its knuckles. “Save her!” screamed Mrs. Salt. “Veruca! Come back! What are they doing to her?” “They’re testing her to see if she’s a bad nut,” said Mr. Wonka. “You watch.”

“You mustn’t despair!” cried Mr. Wonka. “Nothing is impossible! You watch!”