Willy drowsily opened his eyes. He knew he had to get up to work, but he hadn’t had too much sleep the night before. He spent almost half of it pacing back and forth across his dark purple and red room, thinking. It was almost Valentines Day again. Willy usually never even remembered that it was coming around, but when he saw Mr. and Mrs. Bucket looked at each other the way that people in love look at each other, he began to get curious about love, which included Valentines Day, which just happened to be the day after tomorrow. One of the many questions that he had asked himself was the question of “Why do I even care?” But then he ad answered himself, “Because when I look at the Buckets, I’m jealous”, but then he confused himself because he had never been in love did he want to fall in it, a bit like mud, so how in the world could he be jealous of the love that Mr. and Mrs. Bucket shared? And that is what really kept him up through the night. And so the amazing chocolateir woke up very hazy and confused the next morning. “I need a walk…” he heard himself mumble, rubbing is dark, sleepy, purple eyes.

Ever since Charlie had come to his factory, a little over a year ago, Willy Wonka had started to take more walks outside of his factory, only with 13-year-old Charlie at his side, of course. He slowly got dressed, putting on his purple-maroon coat, his top hat, and his dark purple, rubber gloves, and just before closing the door, grabbed his candy filled cane.

Charlie Bucket’s dreams of floating candies that pop in your mouth were abruptly interrupted by a firm, three knocks at the door. It’s to hard to be an Oompa Loompa, so it must be Willy… but what’s he here for? He quietly hopped out of his small, yet cozy, bed in the attic and tip-toed to the door, trying not to wake anyone else up. When he opened the door he was met by Willy Wonka, but a troubled Willy Wonka. “Hey, Willy.” Charlie said, followed by a deep yawn.

“Hi, Charlie. Hurry up and some warm clothes on, ‘kay?”

“But Willy,” Charlie protested softly, “its’ seven o’clock in the morning and we don’t’ start work until nine. Why do you need me now?”

“Oh I just need some fresh air and a little walking, is all…” Willy said with his normal half smile, which was, thankfully , much less insane than the one he plastered on during last year’s tour to worry the children. Charlie paused and saw that his mentor was truly down about something, so he gave in, as always, to his childish demeanor. “Aright, Willy,” He said with his sweet, thoughtful smile, “I’ll be right out.” And Charlie gently closed the door and returned quickly to Willy with his warmer clothes on and his smaller, much less flashy, dark purple jacket.

Outside the ground was covered in a fair amount of snow, which made a soft, crunchy noise when you stepped in it. And, even though he hated to admit it, the early, brittle air of early February felt very welcome to his lungs, seeing as the factory must be 

kept at exactly 98.102 degrees for the Oompa Loompa’s sake. The troubled chocolateir looked around from behind his goggle-sunglasses, thankful to see that only a few tired people doing this-and-that. Willy then looked down at his young heir. He was smiling with his eyes closed as he breathed in the cool, crisp air. Willy himself couldn’t help but grin himself. But that grin quickly turned up-side-down as he remembered that he was out here to forget about that gosh-darned love thing. He interrupted the silence. “Hey Charlie,” Willy said, like he was trying to sound happy, “Let’s go look at some of my shops…to see how their doing, kay?” During the past year, Willy and Charlie and put up an ice-cream shop –just for the never melting stuff— and re-opened the shop on Cherrie Street, along with a few others specifically for Wonks candies.

“Alright let’s go to Cherrie Street first, it’s closer,” Charlie said looking up and nodding at his mentor (he had to for, even though Charlie had grown about six inches since the contest, Willy was still about a head taller). And they headed off to Cherrie Street.