My feet nervously tap the pavement as I glace at the business-suit clad people around me. Some click pens, fidget with ties, look over their resumes and chat while others just stand there shivering. My stomach twists as I think about how small the chance is that I will actually get this job. My qualifications are decent but judging by the looks on some faces, I am surely beat in that category. Confidence flows from different men and women as they smile and chat about various things while I do what I can to keep from throwing up all over my dull leather high heels. My boring black suit and tight bun pale in comparison to the expensive-looking outfits I see around me. I suddenly feel the urge to just walk away from here right now and give up on this seemingly bad idea. I sigh and glance down at my watch which is also black and boring. 9:00. Oh boy.

A strange industrious sound suddenly rings through the air as the large metal gates begin to open and I am pushed forward by the anxious crowd. Okay, here we go, I think as I grit my teeth. When we approach, the front of the factory splits in half revealing a large opening, allowing us to enter to a gray foyer. I am abruptly hit in the face by a wall of heat. It has got to be at least 30 degrees warmer in here than it was outside. I gulp. We are squeezed together in a tight group and I am crushed between a wall and a tall, balding man. Someone clears their throat and my eyes shift to a very young man, somewhere around 15, standing in front of the group on a raised platform. His messy brown hair falls over his lightly freckled cheeks and his bright smile exudes friendliness. Charlie Bucket. It's almost hard to believe he even really exists. I remember how excited everyone in our town was when they found out that he had won Mr. Wonka's contest. I smile in response.

"Good morning everyone and welcome to Mr. Willy Wonka's factory." His smile brightens. "As you all know, Mr. Wonka has decided that he needs an assistant to help him with the daily operations of his factory. You all have been selected as the most promising candidates for the job and will be interview personally both me and Mr. Wonka. If you would please follow me," he says as he gestures toward a large room. The entire room begins to shift toward the opening and I follow the people in front of me. "Mr. Wonka does request that you reframe from touching or messing with…well…anything." When he receives a few questioning glances, he shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "Everyone please enter a room and wait for your number to be called over the intercom. Thank you." He moves out of the room and I walk down a narrow hallway watching each person enter a room the size of a changing room. I finally get to mine. Number 14. I open the door and glance around. Dark brown carpet, maroon walls and a single leather chair. Hmm. I take my seat and set my briefcase down beside me. I take off my jacket and hand it over the back of the chair. Okay, time to practice. I smile. Hello, Mr. Wonka, Mr. Bucket. I shake hands with both of them. So as it states on my resume I have previously worked at-

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
The Amazing Chocolatier.
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
Everybody give a cheer!

I nearly jump out of my seat as obnoxiously loud music blasts from a large speaker directly behind my chair. My papers fly out of my hands and float to the floor all over the room.

"Great!" I yell, getting up from my seat and angrily pick them up, trying to get them back in order.

He's modest, clever, and so smart,
He can barely restrain it.
With so much generosity,
There is no way to contain it...
To contain...to contain...to contain...to contain.

I chuckle under my breath. Either this man is the biggest egomaniac in the world or he's trying to compensate for an extreme lack of confidence. I shake my head and tap my paper together on my lap. Okay, everything's okay. I sigh. It's weird…but this tune is kinda catchy…

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
He's the one that you're about to meet.
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
He's a genius who just can't be beat.
The magician and the chocolate wiz...
The best darn guy who ever lived.

I glance down and notice that my foot is tapping. I check my watch. 9:30. How long am I going to be here?

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW WWWWWWWWWWW

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
The Amazing Chocolatier.
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
Everybody give a cheer!

He's modest, clever, and so smart,
He can barely restrain it.
With so much generosity,
There is no way to contain it...
To contain...to contain...to contain...to contain.

Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
He's the one that you're about to meet.
Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka...
He's a genius who just can't be beat.
The magician and the chocolate wiz...
The best darn guy who ever lived.

"Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the Amazing Chocolatier…illy Wonka, Willy Wonka, da da da da da da dum." I mumble as I tap a pen I have just pulled out of my brief case against my leg. I look at my watch. 12:57?!

"WWhat?!" I jump out of my chair. I begin to pace. Is there something wrong? Maybe they found the right person and are done interviewing. You think someone would come tell me! Maybe I should just leave. I feel so stiff and begin to stretch, trying to loosen up. And then…I begin to dance. Right here, right now. Nervous energy pouring off of me, I jump and twirl and sing quietly. This is ridiculous but if I sit still one more minute, I think I might explode. The tune pouring from the speaker is just as loud as ever. I suddenly wonder if this is some kind of joke…or that maybe I'm dreaming. That I'm still at home in bed and any minute my alarm clock will bring me out of this stress-induced fantasy.

The music suddenly screeches to a hault and I abruptly stop. Oh crap, is there a camera in here?! I glance around, looking for anything that could be recording me and mentally smack myself for not thinking about that before. Crazy dancing girl in Room 14, you can go.

"Number 14," a high-pitched yet masculine voice calls loudly over the intercom. "Please report to the Interview room." The voice cuts back out. I grab my jacket and pull it back on as I run out of the room with my briefcase. Where am I suppose to go? I glance around and notice a large sign with a hand pointing down to a large door at the end of a very long hallway. Ah. I walk up and take a deep breath. I reach forward to knock and wait for a reply.

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW WWWWWWWWWWW

Willy and Charlie glance from screen to screen, looking for anything that would cause them to consider any of these people. Most of the guests sit, looking at papers, writing, messing with cell phones. Boring, Boring, Bbbooorrriinngggg. Willy Wonka sighs. It had been hilarious early when he had turned on the music. People had screamed, yelled, and covered their ears, but now they had gotten used to it, almost tuning it out.

"Well this doesn't look too…" Willy starts before his violet eyes settle on one screen. He sees a very petite and pale girl with a big brown bun atop her head. The girl is tapping… and singing. His song. "Charlie, c'mere." Charlie moves to his side and looks at the screen.

"Hmm. This is different," He says with a smile. Willy Wonka smiles back. As they continue watching she stands up and looks at her watch. She starts to pace and then…dance. She begins to spin, jump, and sing like a crazy person. Charlie begins to laugh and Willy Wonka tilts his head to the side as a dreamy look comes over him.

"Call her in."

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW WWWWWWWWWWW

"Come in!" That same strange voice calls and I pull down on the large handle. The room is extremely long with a huge mahogany desk at the end of it. Heavy maroon curtains block out most of the outdoor light and glittering chandeliers provide dim illumination. I walk down a dark purple rug until I stand about 5 feet from the desk. Two people sit side by side, one smiling, Charlie, and the other tapping long, purple-gloved fingers anxiously while staring down at a small stack of paper.

"Ew, no." The gloved hand throws the stack into a small trash can beside the desk. He then looks up at me with a bored expression. "Sit down."

I jump a little and lower into one of the leather chairs. I reach down and pull two copies of my resume from my briefcase. "Um…this is my-"

"Name!" The man says, grabbing a purple pen that has a large cursive W on top.

"Uh…," I mumble until my eyes settle on his face. His skin is extremely white, so pale it's almost blue like how my skin looks when I stand under moonlight. His face is beautiful with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His hair is shiny and brown, falling in a perfect shape around his cheeks. His lips are full and dark, contrasting with the lightness of his face. My eyes finally move to his and I'm stunned. Violet. His eyes are a wonderful shade of purple that makes my own green eyes widen in shock. He's dressed in a navy coat, long and made of velvet. A very large top hat sits on his head, making him two or three heads taller than me. Both his shirt and his pants are black and a shiny W glitters at his pale throat. Whoa. "…um." Way to go there genius. What is my name?!

"Mumbler." He whispers to Charlie and the boy smiles. "Naaammme?" He speaks slowly as though I didn't understand.

"C-clarity Morrison."

"C-clarity Morrinson. C-clarity has two C's right?" He smirks at me.

"Just one," I say dryly and his smile drops a little. "Well, Clarity has just one. C-clarity does have two." My attempt at humor seems to fall flat. Perfect. Change the subject. "Anyway, I have two copies of my resume if you'd like to take a look…" He shakes his head and flicks his hand toward me.

"Keep them. We'll just ask you some questions, 'kay?" I nod my head with a blank expression. "Good." His voice is…bizarre but someone appealing. Unique. He pulls out a clipboard and writes something quickly. "So, to begin, do you like my candy?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Uh…yes. Yes I do. Very much." He nods and smiles at me. His teeth are perfectly straight and extremely white. Wow, he is soo..Focus! What the crap is wrong with me?!

"Oh good!" He writes something and then looks back at me. "Question number two. Are you able to deal with…unusual and unexpected situations?" My eyes widen and he smiles.

"Um…well I guess. What kind of situations are we talking about?"

"Well if I told ya that would kinda ruin the whole unexpected part, wouldn't it Miss Morrison?" He tilts his head.

"Yes, I guess it would." I say quietly. "I'm going to go ahead and say I can handle them." Then I am questioned…vigorously.

"What is your like schedule?"

"Do you mind working unusual hours?"

"Are you married?"

"Are you good at organizing paper work?

"Are you okay with testing new candy?"

"How far do you live from here?"

"Can you learn a new language?"

"Do you have any allergies?"

"Are you okay with the temperature in here?"

"Are you sure you're not allergic to anything? Peanuts? Hazelnuts? Anything?"

I'm nearly breathless and almost shaking when they stop questioning me.

"Alrighty then. Charlie, anything you'd like to add?" He glances down at the boy beside him.

"I don't think so." He looks down at the papers in front of him. Did I do something wrong? How was I suppose to answer those?! I sit there silently for a moment.

"Listen, I know I may not be perfect for this job, but I really do want it." I look up at their faces, both staring at me with wide eyes. "I mean…this has been a little…unorthodox but…that's kinda what I need right now. I might not be perfect but I think I can do this. I…just think about it, please." My face heats up and I grab my briefcase and I rise from my seat. "Thank you." I walk toward the exit and grit my teeth together. Well I guess that was a big waste of time. Crap.

"Miss Morrison," Mr. Wonka calls my name. I turn back to him and see his purple-gloved hand hanging in the air. "We'll see you Monday. 8:00am. Sharp.