Roald Dahl Day - September 13th 2016To celebrate Roald Dahl Day we decided to take inspiration from one of Dahl's most famous novels, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
We invented our own horrid children and wrote about the sticky endings they could come to, if they were let loose in the chocolate factory! |
Poppy by Alanna Oudart
Poppy was a tall, slim girl.She had shoulder length blonde hair, startingly blue eyes, and red lips that pulled into a most unpleasant frown whenever something wasn't as she wanted it to be.And there was always,always a lollipop in her mouth.
When she talked, the lollipop was placed to one side of her mouth and anyone listening would either just nod and smile, even though parts of her speech was incoherent, or they would politely ask her to repeat.The latter would earn them one of her unpleasant frowns, and a lot of the time, she would storm out of the room remarking how everyone on this planet was deaf, apart from her of course.
The lady standing next to Poppy introduced herself as Poppy's mother. Like her daughter, Poppy's mother was tall and slim, but then she unlike Poppy, she had green eyes and long red curls.
“And now, I give you a world you have only ever dreamed of” Willy Wonka opened the doors to reveal the magical world within.
Gingerly, the children stepped inside. Before them lay a world with grass made of liquorish, paths made with jelly beans, and then there were the magnificent lollipop trees.
“Are those...”Veruca Salt said, pointing a finger at the multicoloured sweets.
“Lollipops” Poppy finished, breaking away from the group and running for the lollipop trees.
“There are so many” She stuck her tongue out and licked the nearest lollipop. Then clicking her tongue as if she was an experienced food critic, she announced the flavour- “Strawberry”.
Bending low she picked up a bunch of little lollipops that resembled little flowers. Shoving them into her mouth she searched for something else, a bigger prize. A large pile of lollipops that had gone unnoticed by the group until now, was at the back of the room, where the magical room became a meadow of little lollipops.
Without looking around her, or back at the group, Poppy dived head first into the lollipops. Maybe had she stopped and looked around she would have noticed the large metal trap door that the lollipops were on. Maybe she would have remembered seeing the oompa-loompas cutting down the lollipop trees about to fall, and adding them to the pile. But Poppy didn't stop, so she never suspected the event which followed.
“Please don't” Willy Wonky said, stretching out an arm to stop her, but it was too late. A group of oompa-loompas went over to the lollipop pile and unaware that Poppy was submerged in the lollipop pile, probably rummaging around looking for her favourite lollipop, pulled a narrow lever. The trap door opened, sending Poppy and her lollipops into whatever lay beneath the magical world.
“Poppy” her mother Shrieked, then turned to Willy Wonka. “Where is she?"
“Well, she's gone with all the other worthless trees, they go down a large tube, that takes them across the factory to the rubbish bins at the rear of the building” Willy Wonka said matter-of-factly.
“The rubbish bins” Poppy's mother gasped, shocked.
“Yes, but you need not worry. She may be a little dirty, but other than that she will be quite unharmed.”
This was too much for Poppy's mother. She raised a hand to her fore head, and then fainted. Two oompa-loompas came with a stretcher made of candy canes and rainbow carpets, and after hoisting the unconscious lady onto it, trotted off.
“Well shall we move on?” Wonka asked gesturing to the exit. The group, who had been in a daze woke up and together they made their way to the exit and whatever lay beyond the next pair of doors.
Maria Short by Orlagh Allen
Maria Short really was a horrid child. She was small, no bigger than an umpa lumpa and always wore the same smug look on her bony face. Her nose pointed upwards and her nostrils were bigger than her fingernails. Her legs were like sticks and she had the eyes of a mouse. She wore a small white dress; through which you could see her ribcage. On her tiny feet she wore a pair of butterfly ballerina pumps that looked brand new.
She brought her father with her to the factory. He was a miniature man with more rolls of fat than Augustus Gloop. He wiped the permanent beads of sweat off his forehead constantly and had an awful habit of biting his nails. He was an odd bloke. Mr Wonka was mid-sentence explaining how the triple fudge machine works when Maria interrupted him for the fiftieth time that day.
“Well actually Mr Wonka...”
The group let out a collective groan. She ignored them and carried on explaining how the machine ACTUALLY worked and how Mr Wonka was completely wrong. They moved out of the room and on to the next. Maria’s thin hands skimmed the walls as they walked down the corridor.
“What’s through that door there?” She asked sticking her nose in the air.
“Something you aren’t allowed to see” Mr Wonka replied vaguely.
“But what if I didn’t tell anyone? Could I see it then?”
“No.”
She was listing facts about the lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling when Mr Wonka finally announced that they had arrived at their destination.
“This,” he announced in a loud voice cutting Maria off mid-sentence, “Is my favourite room in the whole factory. This is the marshmallow room!”
He threw open the double doors to reveal a large pink and white room. Maria pushed through to the top of the group so that she could get a better glimpse at the room. She once again stuck her nose in the air and inhaled the sweet smell of sugar. The walls we made of marshmallows and the floor was pristine pink and white tiles. There were umpa lumpas wearing white overalls dotted around the room checking sugar levels and fluffiness. The room was tall and wide and had various barrels and tanks filled with marshmallow fluff and sugar. Mr Wonka led the children into the room. They let their eyes adjust to the brightness of the white walls and floors before continuing to take in the beautiful sight before them. Something in the corner of the room caught Maria’s eye.
“What’s that over there?” She asked pointing a twig like finger at the large pit of marshmallow fluff.
“That,” Mr Wonka saied with a smile, “is heaven in a pit. It is a five-foot-deep and three-foot wide pit of one hundred percent marshmallow fluff.”
“That doesn’t sound like heaven to me.” Maria said in disgust.
“But beware children,” Mr Wonka ignored her and continued talking. “Do not go near that pit."
“Why?” Once again Maria questioned Mr Wonka.
“Because that stuff is like quick sand. Once you put anybody weight on it you’ll stick to it and start to sink. And you’ll go down and down until eventually you’re completely submerged and you suffocate to death.”
Everyone looked at Mr Wonka with worried eyes. He noticed their expressions and continued to explain.
“We just recently lost a couple of umpa lumpas who were checking the fluffiness on the fluff. Very sad, the funeral is next week.”
“Well actually Mr Wonka,” Maria put her hands on her non-existent hips and looked up at the tall man. “That’s not possible.”
“Well actually Ms Short,” Mr Wonka mimicked her. “It is possible because I saw it happen with my own eyes.”
“Well I hate to break it to you but you’re wrong!” She said with attitude. “If that is one hundred percent marshmallow fluff, then it should have so much sugar and fat in it that it’s denser than us. That means we should be able to walk on it without sinking!”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.” Mr Wonka seemed to be losing his patience.
“I’m afraid it does.” This time it’s Maria’s turn to mimic. “Here I’ll show you.”
She ignored the protests of the group and strutted over to the pit to before lowering herself onto the sticky substance.
“See,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sinking and I’m not stuck!”
She tried to move her feet but is unable to. She pulled and pulled at her feet but they didn't budge. She began to slowly sink into the fluff.
“I warned her.” Mr Wonka said under his breath while shaking his head.
“How is this happening? Somebody help me!” Marie panicked and tried moving her feet frantically. “Help! Help!”
“Don’t struggle, it’ll only make you go faster.” Mr Wonka stated. “Actually maybe do struggle, make it quick. Nobody wants a slow death.”
Music began playing out of nowhere and the umpa lumpas began a song and dance as
she sunk further and further into the fluff. Mr Wonka claps along to the song, humming to himself. Mr Short had no more fingernails to chew. The rest of the group watched in horror as her head got sucked under just as the song ended. Mr Wonka clapped for the umpa lumpas before turning to the rest of the group.
“So,” He said calmly. “On we go to the next room.”
Velma Whittington by Klavdia Wilson
“And this way is the control room,” said Mr. Wonka leading the remaining children and their parents into a large room that had a long cylinder shaped colon covered in various buttons and switches. It was a wondrous looking machine! Some Oompa-loompas busied around it while others kept an eye on screens attached to the walls of the room, showing different areas of the factory.
“Oh, I know ALL about this room,” said Velma hurrying in first as always, “This is where you control all the machines.”
“Precisely,” said Wonka, “This switch-” he pointed to a large rusty switch on the wall “- is the most important. It powers the-”
“Electricity and heat,” interrupted Velma.
“Actually,” Wonka continued, “It powers the whole control colon which then powers everything in the factory. Now, if you listen carefully, I can let you use some switches. Now, this one over here-”
“Powers the squirrel room,” Velma interrupted once again, “And this one here starts up the chocolate chutes.”
“No-” Wonka began but was then again interrupted by Velma.
“I know ALL about this button,” she said, pointing to a large red button, “This button powers up the giant candy room, which, as I can see is on low power right now. So as I hit the switch-”
“NO!!” cried Wonka but it was too late. The lights in the room dimmed and suddenly there was a terrible wailing noise. For once in her life, Velma looked unsure of herself.
“What’s happening?!” she cried over the noise.
“You’ve pressed the distress switch!” yelled Wonka, “It’s a switch for when you’re in deep trouble and need to get out of the factory fast!!”
Right on cue, a giant metal claw came out of a hatch which had just opened up in the ceiling and snatched Velma away, screaming. The noise suddenly stopped and the room went bright again.
“What have you done to my daughter?!” demanded Mr. Whittington.
“Well,” explained Wonka, “The distress button is designed in a way that whoever wishes to evacuate the factory presses the button and gets taken out by a claw, a parachute pack is strapped to the evacuee’s back and they are trampolined out of the factory. It’s brilliant!”
“Brilliant?! Trampolined?!!” sputtered Mr. Whittington, “This is insane!! YOU’RE insane!! You’re mad!! ALL OF YOU!!”
With that, he gave a rather loud “harrumph” and stomped out of the room, only stopping to hit an unfortunate Oompa-loompa in the shin on the way out.
Kitty Taylor by Hana Tuite
Kitty Tailor was a mean excuse for a daughter. There were simply not enough adjectives in the English language to sufficiently describe her beastliness. She was relatively short for a girl of her age and her stature was awkward and gangling due to the uneven lengths of several of her body parts. One arm longer than the other, her left foot larger than the right and one leg slightly crooked. 'Nothing unusual about that' her mother remarked on countless occasions. Her eyes were thin slits, making her appear as if she were forever stuck in a perma-glare. However, her left eye was clouded over as she was partially blind.Her thick brows knitted together to form a uni-brow that framed her face like a hairy crown. Due to her unfortunate proportions, Kitty Tailor was forever searching for clothes that would accommodate her unconventional physicality. Her clothes were baggy and hung off her like a second skin where her mother Candice had made modifications with the hand of an amateur seamstress. In school, the other students called her 'homeless girl'- a moniker earned from her shaggy and disheveled appearance. Her hair was a dirty blonde, and hung lifelessly to her shoulders in uneven cuts, also inflicted on her by her mother with a rusted scissors from the kitchen drawer. Kitty was the proud owner of six cats; Jackson, Castor,Pollux, Morgan, Delilah and Samson.No one paid any attention to Kitty in school; no one even looked at her. Maybe it's because she smelt like rotting fish, or because of the incident last year when she left a box of dead rats on the doorstep of her worst enemy Lisa. She was partially blind in one eye but she could see well enough to catch girls laughing and pointing at her in her peripheral vision. She would show them that she could look beautiful. - One day, Kitty walked into school but this time no one ignored her, all eyes were on her. Her baggy clothes were covered by a thick, shapely fur coat. It was a profusion of colours; ginger, striped, coal black,snow white, all patched together into one eclectic mix. It was like a patchwork quilt covering her heinous figure making her seem halfway elegant. The girls who had laughed at her a few weeks before now were slack-jawed in shock. Two kids from the class below her ran over to her, tripping over their untied shoelaces. "Where'd you get that coat, huh? Did your mommy steal it?" "Did you pick it up from the dumpster?" The smile that decorated Kitty's face now fell. Everyone was shocked not because she looked beautiful, but because she looked despicable, even more so now than before. She had worked so long and hard for ten nights making that coat. She worked from 10 in the evening until 4 in the morning each night to fashion that coat until the sun rose. It was all in vain and Kitty was still the ugly girl that no one wanted to even to touch for fear of catching an infectious disease. Suddenly she snapped out of it. - She plunged her hand into the pocket of her coat, feeling the fleshy lining inside. When she removed her hand, the boys screamed and tried to run but she grabbed them by their collars and held them there. In her hand were six cat tails, blood clotted at the tops where they had been amputated. "Boys, meet; Jackson, Morgan, Castor, Pollux, Samson and Delilah.The material donors for my coat" The two boys with blonde hair began to weep, weakly kicking Kitty in her gammy knee. She didn't flinch. One of the boys had now saturated his t-shirt with tears and sweat, which made it cling to his skin like wet sand; the other boy was midway through wetting his trousers. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" They screamed in unison. Kitty's smile crept back to her face and her eyes contained a raging fire polluted with a hint of insanity. "I'll tell you exactly what I did. My poor darlings were getting old. And with age comes uselessness. All they did was sleep and sleep and sleep. So I took them out of their misery. I crept into their little room in the middle of the night when the moon was at it's highest and sent them back to their maker. They knew that they could do some good; they could die and I could be beautiful. I grabbed Jackson around the neck and sliced his throat with a rusty scissors; messy but effective. He didn't even squeal.As for Morgan, I twisted his neck until I heard the bone snap and he wasn't moving anymore. Now let me think; I put Castor in the washing machine on fast wash,stabbed Pollux with knitting needles in his carotid artery and jugular, Samson I drowned in the bathtub under soapy water (wow, he certainly put up a fight) and Delilah-she got special treatment because she's my favourite of course. I grabbed her and she squirmed in my arms- that is, until I put her in the microwave and watched her screech and thrash with fear in her eyes like I'd never seen before. It was beautiful. That was, until I had to clean up the mess afterwards. I worked ten nights making that coat. I skinned my darlings and buried their remains under the patio. I took the skin with the furs and stitched all the parts together like patchwork until the coat was complete. My darlings...sacrificed their lives so that I could be beautiful." The boys had now both wet their trousers and were screaming for help. "Please don't skin me! Please, I'll do ANYTHING!" "What do you have that's of any value?" Said Kitty with curiosity in her voice. From the depths of his pocket, one of the blonde boys-Toby- removed a shining object from his pocket. He handed it to Kitty, the object now slick with sweat from his hand. It was a Golden Ticket. "What the hell is this?!"
Amanda Tyrell by Molly Walker
The sixth lucky child to win a glorious golden ticket to the wondrous, chocolate factory of the one and only Mr. Willie Wonka was the irritable, manic Amanda Tyrell. Amanda Tyrell stood small , tiny in fact with a crazy, daring cheesey, smile plastered across her small face, with two long blond ,curly ponytails popping out behind each ear decorated in bright fuzzy colourful bobbles. She wore a colourful pointed dress and multicoloured shoes that shone brighter than the sun. Her eyes were an emerald green, they were almost popping out of her head and had crazy dilated pupils that had a wild daring looking in them. Amanda Tyrell never stood still she bounced around the room with so much energy and enthusiasm. She was full of sugar !
All she ate was sugar, sweets,lollipops,ice cream , toffees but her favourite of all was chocolate. Amanda adored chocolate bars, all kinds and all flavours.She ate chocolate with EVERYTHING and had it for every meal it was beyond her favourite thing in the world. Its what caused her to be so hyper. She talked incredibly fast and no one could understand her. She ran and bounced all around like a chipmunk. She never seemed to have a turn off button she just kept going and going. Her teeth chattered and her hands shakes.
The lucky winners made their way through to the next exciting room in Mr. Willie Wonka's fantastic factory, minus Augustus Gloop who had just fallen into a lake of chocolate and whirled up a tube to the Unknown areas of the chocolate factory with an Umpa Lumpa bringing a very panicked Ms.Gloop to fetch him. Amanda nearly fainted when she saw the lake of chocolate and the land of gorgeous goodies and sugar lollipops. She bounced around eating all the sweets and chocolate she could find and she was far more careful than Augustus when she was getting her chocolate lake drink.
Mr. Willie Wonka lead everyone into the next exciting room it was the room where all the chocolate bars were made. The chocolate poured down onto trays the size of the chocolate bars were and a huge machine came down and shaped the chocolate into its squares to make the perfect bar of chocolate. There were so many machines of different sizes making the chocolate bars.
Normal sized chocolate bars and huge ginormous ones almost the size of people ! Amanda could not contain her excitement and lepted and leaped around the place running about with excitement! Willie Wonka called after her to be careful and not to go near anything but she didn't listen. She ran along, gazing hungry at the glistening delicious chocolate mixture. She jumped on top of the huge chocolate tray that was ready to be shaped into the perfect giant chocolate bar when Amanda Tyrell leaped on top of it to taste the glorious chocolate when the huge machine that shaped the chocolate into its squares came shooting downs and squished Amanda down into a flat chocolate bar!
Amanda was flatted into a pancake!
Poppy was a tall, slim girl.She had shoulder length blonde hair, startingly blue eyes, and red lips that pulled into a most unpleasant frown whenever something wasn't as she wanted it to be.And there was always,always a lollipop in her mouth.
When she talked, the lollipop was placed to one side of her mouth and anyone listening would either just nod and smile, even though parts of her speech was incoherent, or they would politely ask her to repeat.The latter would earn them one of her unpleasant frowns, and a lot of the time, she would storm out of the room remarking how everyone on this planet was deaf, apart from her of course.
The lady standing next to Poppy introduced herself as Poppy's mother. Like her daughter, Poppy's mother was tall and slim, but then she unlike Poppy, she had green eyes and long red curls.
“And now, I give you a world you have only ever dreamed of” Willy Wonka opened the doors to reveal the magical world within.
Gingerly, the children stepped inside. Before them lay a world with grass made of liquorish, paths made with jelly beans, and then there were the magnificent lollipop trees.
“Are those...”Veruca Salt said, pointing a finger at the multicoloured sweets.
“Lollipops” Poppy finished, breaking away from the group and running for the lollipop trees.
“There are so many” She stuck her tongue out and licked the nearest lollipop. Then clicking her tongue as if she was an experienced food critic, she announced the flavour- “Strawberry”.
Bending low she picked up a bunch of little lollipops that resembled little flowers. Shoving them into her mouth she searched for something else, a bigger prize. A large pile of lollipops that had gone unnoticed by the group until now, was at the back of the room, where the magical room became a meadow of little lollipops.
Without looking around her, or back at the group, Poppy dived head first into the lollipops. Maybe had she stopped and looked around she would have noticed the large metal trap door that the lollipops were on. Maybe she would have remembered seeing the oompa-loompas cutting down the lollipop trees about to fall, and adding them to the pile. But Poppy didn't stop, so she never suspected the event which followed.
“Please don't” Willy Wonky said, stretching out an arm to stop her, but it was too late. A group of oompa-loompas went over to the lollipop pile and unaware that Poppy was submerged in the lollipop pile, probably rummaging around looking for her favourite lollipop, pulled a narrow lever. The trap door opened, sending Poppy and her lollipops into whatever lay beneath the magical world.
“Poppy” her mother Shrieked, then turned to Willy Wonka. “Where is she?"
“Well, she's gone with all the other worthless trees, they go down a large tube, that takes them across the factory to the rubbish bins at the rear of the building” Willy Wonka said matter-of-factly.
“The rubbish bins” Poppy's mother gasped, shocked.
“Yes, but you need not worry. She may be a little dirty, but other than that she will be quite unharmed.”
This was too much for Poppy's mother. She raised a hand to her fore head, and then fainted. Two oompa-loompas came with a stretcher made of candy canes and rainbow carpets, and after hoisting the unconscious lady onto it, trotted off.
“Well shall we move on?” Wonka asked gesturing to the exit. The group, who had been in a daze woke up and together they made their way to the exit and whatever lay beyond the next pair of doors.
Maria Short by Orlagh Allen
Maria Short really was a horrid child. She was small, no bigger than an umpa lumpa and always wore the same smug look on her bony face. Her nose pointed upwards and her nostrils were bigger than her fingernails. Her legs were like sticks and she had the eyes of a mouse. She wore a small white dress; through which you could see her ribcage. On her tiny feet she wore a pair of butterfly ballerina pumps that looked brand new.
She brought her father with her to the factory. He was a miniature man with more rolls of fat than Augustus Gloop. He wiped the permanent beads of sweat off his forehead constantly and had an awful habit of biting his nails. He was an odd bloke. Mr Wonka was mid-sentence explaining how the triple fudge machine works when Maria interrupted him for the fiftieth time that day.
“Well actually Mr Wonka...”
The group let out a collective groan. She ignored them and carried on explaining how the machine ACTUALLY worked and how Mr Wonka was completely wrong. They moved out of the room and on to the next. Maria’s thin hands skimmed the walls as they walked down the corridor.
“What’s through that door there?” She asked sticking her nose in the air.
“Something you aren’t allowed to see” Mr Wonka replied vaguely.
“But what if I didn’t tell anyone? Could I see it then?”
“No.”
She was listing facts about the lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling when Mr Wonka finally announced that they had arrived at their destination.
“This,” he announced in a loud voice cutting Maria off mid-sentence, “Is my favourite room in the whole factory. This is the marshmallow room!”
He threw open the double doors to reveal a large pink and white room. Maria pushed through to the top of the group so that she could get a better glimpse at the room. She once again stuck her nose in the air and inhaled the sweet smell of sugar. The walls we made of marshmallows and the floor was pristine pink and white tiles. There were umpa lumpas wearing white overalls dotted around the room checking sugar levels and fluffiness. The room was tall and wide and had various barrels and tanks filled with marshmallow fluff and sugar. Mr Wonka led the children into the room. They let their eyes adjust to the brightness of the white walls and floors before continuing to take in the beautiful sight before them. Something in the corner of the room caught Maria’s eye.
“What’s that over there?” She asked pointing a twig like finger at the large pit of marshmallow fluff.
“That,” Mr Wonka saied with a smile, “is heaven in a pit. It is a five-foot-deep and three-foot wide pit of one hundred percent marshmallow fluff.”
“That doesn’t sound like heaven to me.” Maria said in disgust.
“But beware children,” Mr Wonka ignored her and continued talking. “Do not go near that pit."
“Why?” Once again Maria questioned Mr Wonka.
“Because that stuff is like quick sand. Once you put anybody weight on it you’ll stick to it and start to sink. And you’ll go down and down until eventually you’re completely submerged and you suffocate to death.”
Everyone looked at Mr Wonka with worried eyes. He noticed their expressions and continued to explain.
“We just recently lost a couple of umpa lumpas who were checking the fluffiness on the fluff. Very sad, the funeral is next week.”
“Well actually Mr Wonka,” Maria put her hands on her non-existent hips and looked up at the tall man. “That’s not possible.”
“Well actually Ms Short,” Mr Wonka mimicked her. “It is possible because I saw it happen with my own eyes.”
“Well I hate to break it to you but you’re wrong!” She said with attitude. “If that is one hundred percent marshmallow fluff, then it should have so much sugar and fat in it that it’s denser than us. That means we should be able to walk on it without sinking!”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.” Mr Wonka seemed to be losing his patience.
“I’m afraid it does.” This time it’s Maria’s turn to mimic. “Here I’ll show you.”
She ignored the protests of the group and strutted over to the pit to before lowering herself onto the sticky substance.
“See,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sinking and I’m not stuck!”
She tried to move her feet but is unable to. She pulled and pulled at her feet but they didn't budge. She began to slowly sink into the fluff.
“I warned her.” Mr Wonka said under his breath while shaking his head.
“How is this happening? Somebody help me!” Marie panicked and tried moving her feet frantically. “Help! Help!”
“Don’t struggle, it’ll only make you go faster.” Mr Wonka stated. “Actually maybe do struggle, make it quick. Nobody wants a slow death.”
Music began playing out of nowhere and the umpa lumpas began a song and dance as
she sunk further and further into the fluff. Mr Wonka claps along to the song, humming to himself. Mr Short had no more fingernails to chew. The rest of the group watched in horror as her head got sucked under just as the song ended. Mr Wonka clapped for the umpa lumpas before turning to the rest of the group.
“So,” He said calmly. “On we go to the next room.”
Velma Whittington by Klavdia Wilson
“And this way is the control room,” said Mr. Wonka leading the remaining children and their parents into a large room that had a long cylinder shaped colon covered in various buttons and switches. It was a wondrous looking machine! Some Oompa-loompas busied around it while others kept an eye on screens attached to the walls of the room, showing different areas of the factory.
“Oh, I know ALL about this room,” said Velma hurrying in first as always, “This is where you control all the machines.”
“Precisely,” said Wonka, “This switch-” he pointed to a large rusty switch on the wall “- is the most important. It powers the-”
“Electricity and heat,” interrupted Velma.
“Actually,” Wonka continued, “It powers the whole control colon which then powers everything in the factory. Now, if you listen carefully, I can let you use some switches. Now, this one over here-”
“Powers the squirrel room,” Velma interrupted once again, “And this one here starts up the chocolate chutes.”
“No-” Wonka began but was then again interrupted by Velma.
“I know ALL about this button,” she said, pointing to a large red button, “This button powers up the giant candy room, which, as I can see is on low power right now. So as I hit the switch-”
“NO!!” cried Wonka but it was too late. The lights in the room dimmed and suddenly there was a terrible wailing noise. For once in her life, Velma looked unsure of herself.
“What’s happening?!” she cried over the noise.
“You’ve pressed the distress switch!” yelled Wonka, “It’s a switch for when you’re in deep trouble and need to get out of the factory fast!!”
Right on cue, a giant metal claw came out of a hatch which had just opened up in the ceiling and snatched Velma away, screaming. The noise suddenly stopped and the room went bright again.
“What have you done to my daughter?!” demanded Mr. Whittington.
“Well,” explained Wonka, “The distress button is designed in a way that whoever wishes to evacuate the factory presses the button and gets taken out by a claw, a parachute pack is strapped to the evacuee’s back and they are trampolined out of the factory. It’s brilliant!”
“Brilliant?! Trampolined?!!” sputtered Mr. Whittington, “This is insane!! YOU’RE insane!! You’re mad!! ALL OF YOU!!”
With that, he gave a rather loud “harrumph” and stomped out of the room, only stopping to hit an unfortunate Oompa-loompa in the shin on the way out.
Kitty Taylor by Hana Tuite
Kitty Tailor was a mean excuse for a daughter. There were simply not enough adjectives in the English language to sufficiently describe her beastliness. She was relatively short for a girl of her age and her stature was awkward and gangling due to the uneven lengths of several of her body parts. One arm longer than the other, her left foot larger than the right and one leg slightly crooked. 'Nothing unusual about that' her mother remarked on countless occasions. Her eyes were thin slits, making her appear as if she were forever stuck in a perma-glare. However, her left eye was clouded over as she was partially blind.Her thick brows knitted together to form a uni-brow that framed her face like a hairy crown. Due to her unfortunate proportions, Kitty Tailor was forever searching for clothes that would accommodate her unconventional physicality. Her clothes were baggy and hung off her like a second skin where her mother Candice had made modifications with the hand of an amateur seamstress. In school, the other students called her 'homeless girl'- a moniker earned from her shaggy and disheveled appearance. Her hair was a dirty blonde, and hung lifelessly to her shoulders in uneven cuts, also inflicted on her by her mother with a rusted scissors from the kitchen drawer. Kitty was the proud owner of six cats; Jackson, Castor,Pollux, Morgan, Delilah and Samson.No one paid any attention to Kitty in school; no one even looked at her. Maybe it's because she smelt like rotting fish, or because of the incident last year when she left a box of dead rats on the doorstep of her worst enemy Lisa. She was partially blind in one eye but she could see well enough to catch girls laughing and pointing at her in her peripheral vision. She would show them that she could look beautiful. - One day, Kitty walked into school but this time no one ignored her, all eyes were on her. Her baggy clothes were covered by a thick, shapely fur coat. It was a profusion of colours; ginger, striped, coal black,snow white, all patched together into one eclectic mix. It was like a patchwork quilt covering her heinous figure making her seem halfway elegant. The girls who had laughed at her a few weeks before now were slack-jawed in shock. Two kids from the class below her ran over to her, tripping over their untied shoelaces. "Where'd you get that coat, huh? Did your mommy steal it?" "Did you pick it up from the dumpster?" The smile that decorated Kitty's face now fell. Everyone was shocked not because she looked beautiful, but because she looked despicable, even more so now than before. She had worked so long and hard for ten nights making that coat. She worked from 10 in the evening until 4 in the morning each night to fashion that coat until the sun rose. It was all in vain and Kitty was still the ugly girl that no one wanted to even to touch for fear of catching an infectious disease. Suddenly she snapped out of it. - She plunged her hand into the pocket of her coat, feeling the fleshy lining inside. When she removed her hand, the boys screamed and tried to run but she grabbed them by their collars and held them there. In her hand were six cat tails, blood clotted at the tops where they had been amputated. "Boys, meet; Jackson, Morgan, Castor, Pollux, Samson and Delilah.The material donors for my coat" The two boys with blonde hair began to weep, weakly kicking Kitty in her gammy knee. She didn't flinch. One of the boys had now saturated his t-shirt with tears and sweat, which made it cling to his skin like wet sand; the other boy was midway through wetting his trousers. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" They screamed in unison. Kitty's smile crept back to her face and her eyes contained a raging fire polluted with a hint of insanity. "I'll tell you exactly what I did. My poor darlings were getting old. And with age comes uselessness. All they did was sleep and sleep and sleep. So I took them out of their misery. I crept into their little room in the middle of the night when the moon was at it's highest and sent them back to their maker. They knew that they could do some good; they could die and I could be beautiful. I grabbed Jackson around the neck and sliced his throat with a rusty scissors; messy but effective. He didn't even squeal.As for Morgan, I twisted his neck until I heard the bone snap and he wasn't moving anymore. Now let me think; I put Castor in the washing machine on fast wash,stabbed Pollux with knitting needles in his carotid artery and jugular, Samson I drowned in the bathtub under soapy water (wow, he certainly put up a fight) and Delilah-she got special treatment because she's my favourite of course. I grabbed her and she squirmed in my arms- that is, until I put her in the microwave and watched her screech and thrash with fear in her eyes like I'd never seen before. It was beautiful. That was, until I had to clean up the mess afterwards. I worked ten nights making that coat. I skinned my darlings and buried their remains under the patio. I took the skin with the furs and stitched all the parts together like patchwork until the coat was complete. My darlings...sacrificed their lives so that I could be beautiful." The boys had now both wet their trousers and were screaming for help. "Please don't skin me! Please, I'll do ANYTHING!" "What do you have that's of any value?" Said Kitty with curiosity in her voice. From the depths of his pocket, one of the blonde boys-Toby- removed a shining object from his pocket. He handed it to Kitty, the object now slick with sweat from his hand. It was a Golden Ticket. "What the hell is this?!"
Amanda Tyrell by Molly Walker
The sixth lucky child to win a glorious golden ticket to the wondrous, chocolate factory of the one and only Mr. Willie Wonka was the irritable, manic Amanda Tyrell. Amanda Tyrell stood small , tiny in fact with a crazy, daring cheesey, smile plastered across her small face, with two long blond ,curly ponytails popping out behind each ear decorated in bright fuzzy colourful bobbles. She wore a colourful pointed dress and multicoloured shoes that shone brighter than the sun. Her eyes were an emerald green, they were almost popping out of her head and had crazy dilated pupils that had a wild daring looking in them. Amanda Tyrell never stood still she bounced around the room with so much energy and enthusiasm. She was full of sugar !
All she ate was sugar, sweets,lollipops,ice cream , toffees but her favourite of all was chocolate. Amanda adored chocolate bars, all kinds and all flavours.She ate chocolate with EVERYTHING and had it for every meal it was beyond her favourite thing in the world. Its what caused her to be so hyper. She talked incredibly fast and no one could understand her. She ran and bounced all around like a chipmunk. She never seemed to have a turn off button she just kept going and going. Her teeth chattered and her hands shakes.
The lucky winners made their way through to the next exciting room in Mr. Willie Wonka's fantastic factory, minus Augustus Gloop who had just fallen into a lake of chocolate and whirled up a tube to the Unknown areas of the chocolate factory with an Umpa Lumpa bringing a very panicked Ms.Gloop to fetch him. Amanda nearly fainted when she saw the lake of chocolate and the land of gorgeous goodies and sugar lollipops. She bounced around eating all the sweets and chocolate she could find and she was far more careful than Augustus when she was getting her chocolate lake drink.
Mr. Willie Wonka lead everyone into the next exciting room it was the room where all the chocolate bars were made. The chocolate poured down onto trays the size of the chocolate bars were and a huge machine came down and shaped the chocolate into its squares to make the perfect bar of chocolate. There were so many machines of different sizes making the chocolate bars.
Normal sized chocolate bars and huge ginormous ones almost the size of people ! Amanda could not contain her excitement and lepted and leaped around the place running about with excitement! Willie Wonka called after her to be careful and not to go near anything but she didn't listen. She ran along, gazing hungry at the glistening delicious chocolate mixture. She jumped on top of the huge chocolate tray that was ready to be shaped into the perfect giant chocolate bar when Amanda Tyrell leaped on top of it to taste the glorious chocolate when the huge machine that shaped the chocolate into its squares came shooting downs and squished Amanda down into a flat chocolate bar!
Amanda was flatted into a pancake!
Petal Herbert by Sinead Whelan
As Willy Wonka was leading them through the colourful and extravagant halls and corridors of the chocolate factory,he stopped suddenly outside a small, unremarkable, white door.
"This," he said "is where the magic happens..."
He then led the group through the doorway into an amazing hall.
Only it wasn't a hall, well it was, but it must have been the biggest and most extraordinary hall in the whole world. It was so big Charlie had to strain his eyes to see the large glass roof above them and the walls seemed to stretch on forever. And every inch of it was filled with an exotic rainforest plants, with great trees and huge vines and cacti and reeds and ponds and huge flowers bigger than Charlie had ever seen before, all colourful and beautiful.
As they looked around, the visitors noticed something else; the birds.
The were what seemed like hundreds of birds in this huge hall and they were the most magnificent birds any of the visitors had ever seen. They were all vivid colours, with different hues and shades of blue, pink, orange, green, purple, red, yellow and every colour imaginable .
They were soaring high above the group, flapping their great wings effortlessly and every so often swooping down dangerously close.
The whole room was overpowering to the senses; with the sweet smells of the luscious plant life and flowers, the sight of the colourful birds and plants and the beat of the majestic beasts' wings flapping and their squawks far above them.
One of the birds swooped down and landed on Mr. Wonka's large purple top hat.
"These," he finally explained after giving the guests the adequate amount of time to take in what the were seeing "are the Great Brightfeathers... They are a fabulous and endangered animal. They come from the Ticki-Wacka rainforest which is now, unfortunately, completely gone. However, we managed to save the last few of these birds, and keep them here in our sanctuary. The sanctuary is 10 acres wide and 100 feet tall, fitting 10,000 trees. These birds have made an invaluable contribution to our factory. During my exploration into the Tiki-Waka forest, I made the fantastic discovery that these birds'... ahem... droppings, are in fact, cocoa beans..."
Everyone was startled
"So you mean to say," said Charlie's grandad slowly "that all the chocolate made at this factory is... Bird poop..?"
"And delicious bird poop at that!" Said Willy Wonka and he reached up onto the top of his hat, picked up a dropping left by the bird that was still perched there, petted the bird and popped the dropping into his mouth.
"I think I'm going to be sick," grimaced Veruca's father.
The sharp, shrill voice of Petal Herbery piped up from the group;
"Personally, I don't eat chocolate..." said Petal
Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes
"...Because it his extremely harmful towards the environment and your body. How do you think those poor cows feel being milked? Or those defenceless sugar cane plants feel being harvested?! It's cruelty!" She exclaimed
"I don't think they feel anything, as they are plants" said Mr. Wonka simply
"Anyway," Petal said, just getting started "This is a disgrace! These poor birds being locked up here! It's abuse and it's cruel."
"Little girl, I don't think you understand. These birds are in a place exactly like their natural habitat. They were endangered, but we saved them. They can't survive in any other environment." Said Mr. Wonka
But Petal wasn't listening
"I'm going to free them" she said and she swanned over to the doorway and opened it
"Go be free!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.
But none of the birds moved. The all all stayed put and looked at her as if they thought she was mad.
Petal grew frustrated "Come on you stupid birds!" She yelled "Can't you see I'm trying to help you!?"
She made a move towards to the bird perched on Willy Wonka's hat.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," warned Mr. Wonka
"I'll do what I want" insisted Petal arrogantly
She made a grab for the bird. The second she touched the bird, every single bird in the great hall flocked together and swooped down towards Petal, squawking and flapping.
"Help!! Arghh! Stupid rotten birds! AAHHHH!!!!"
Within a flash of colours and squawks and screams, the flock of birds had lifted her up high up into the sky and into the dense rainforest by the birds. Soon the colourful throng of birds was just a bright and colourful blurry speck in the distance, and her desperate cries just a whisper. She was carried on and on, further and further away until there was nothing.
All the onlookers were gobsmacked
"Well lets get a move on then, we haven't got all day. Oh wait we have!" Said Mr Wonka chirply
And after that, no one ever heard of the earthloving, nature loving, environmentally friendly, 'only completely natural ingredients please', 'better than you' Petal Herbert again.
Bathilda Bagart by Nina Hand
Bathilda Bagart was a mean, sly, nasty, manipulative, obnoxious, big-headed and highly untrustworthy girl with a snout-like nose, a short but round frame and blonde hair that sat atop her pinkish scalp in a way that reminded everyone who met her immediately of the muppet, Ms. Piggie, except not quite as cute. These qualities however were positively endearing compared to her most infamous attribute: the bugs. The sadistic smile that crept up her face every single time. The way she hypnotised you into staring at the horrific scene, never taking your eyes away, never blinking, her eyes dancing with joy and excitement, the poor creature jerking and twitching in agony. Her nickname became Beetle Bug Bathilda after the incident in second grade.
Bathilda had a gruesome fascination with torture. It began when she came across a beetle stuck on his back. Bathilda found this so amusing she decided to poke the beetle with a stick. Watching it wriggle and squirm delighted her so much she continued to hurt him using different methods with a variety of tools including a pebble, a pencil, a sharp stone, a sharpened stick and a biro. Miscalculating the sharpness of the biro and the force needed however, the beetles last minute on earth came at last. The fatal puncture squirted goo and guts in a revolting arc around corner of the playground. Most children were nauseated by this stage running far away or trying to hold their lunch down. Bathilda, on the other hand, was ecstatic.
As time went on, Bathilda's obsession grew larger and larger, finding more bugs and insects until there were no more to be found within a 4 mile radius. They were all either dead, in hiding or had scattered far and wide to get away from the monster that was Bathilda Bagart. So she got more confident, more interested, more engrossed. As the fascination grew, so did the animal. Birds,squirrels, foxes, dogs, anything she could catch. Nearly all resulted in the same outcome: a carcass to be disposed of, keeping of course a fragment of the animal to put in a labeled jar on her window sill, at home in her bedroom. A hair, a whisker, a feather, a tooth. She even named them.
Her mother was worried about her, having had to pay a large fine to an ex-dog owner to stop a lawsuit being filed against her daughter for the mysterious disappearance of their precious pooch for the fifth time that month. It was worrisome alright but not nearly as much as the important upcoming business trip Ms. Bagart was planning and so she put it to the back of her mind. Maybe she would check Bathilda into a spa for a day. That usually worked for her anyway.
Beetle Bug Bathilda was getting bored though and had decided to go one step further. “ Animals are boring,” she thought. “They don't even talk, and really a moan or a whimper is not nearly as entertaining as a proper scream, human vocals begging for mercy, the pain echoing through the air...”
The class had circled in a large group around what was to be the biggest gossip in school for months. Lionel Leverton, the biggest boy in school was face down in the dirt, Bathilda’s knee between his shoulder blades screaming as much as he could, which was not much due to the fact his mouth was being stuffed with dirt. “K-he-k-lp” he moaned, trying desperately to call for help. Small red puncture wounds lined each arm, the aftermath of Bathilda's favourite tool, the biro. One of his legs and one of his arms were at an odd angle and his tooth had been chipped on a rock. Bathilda's irises glowed with a cruel enjoyment, her final experiment was better than she could have possibly dreamed of. He started mumbling nonsensically again, this time getting frantic and Bathilda, deranged as she was, did realise that murder was not a crime that could be smoothed over with a wad of cash and so she pulled up his head, shook it a bit and a torrent of dirt, gravel, spit and grass came spurting out of his mouth ending with a long, slimy worm and a lot of gagging on Lionel's part.
“I hathh a gothen ticki-!” He choked and spluttered. “Eth me go an I gith oow my gothen ticki!”
“What? Speak clearly or you'll be plunged right back into the dirt and I bet wormy over there has a few pals nearby if you want a taster!”
He tried again, this time his voice had returned mostly to normal and his words could be heard all over the playground. “I have a golden ticket! Let me go and I'll give you my golden ticket! Please, it's all I have, take it” and then for the first time in anyone's memory, Lionel Leverton began to sob. A small, snivelling, snot-filled, mournful sound that echoed across the yard.
Bathilda grinned satisfactorily and that was that. She had a golden ticket. Remembering where she was, she ran home, before a teacher could catch her, to inform her mother that she had a golden ticket and that she would probably need to move school. Possibly in a different country, depending on how strict they were to students who liked to torture other students. Then again she might just not go back to school. It was quite boring after all.
As Willy Wonka was leading them through the colourful and extravagant halls and corridors of the chocolate factory,he stopped suddenly outside a small, unremarkable, white door.
"This," he said "is where the magic happens..."
He then led the group through the doorway into an amazing hall.
Only it wasn't a hall, well it was, but it must have been the biggest and most extraordinary hall in the whole world. It was so big Charlie had to strain his eyes to see the large glass roof above them and the walls seemed to stretch on forever. And every inch of it was filled with an exotic rainforest plants, with great trees and huge vines and cacti and reeds and ponds and huge flowers bigger than Charlie had ever seen before, all colourful and beautiful.
As they looked around, the visitors noticed something else; the birds.
The were what seemed like hundreds of birds in this huge hall and they were the most magnificent birds any of the visitors had ever seen. They were all vivid colours, with different hues and shades of blue, pink, orange, green, purple, red, yellow and every colour imaginable .
They were soaring high above the group, flapping their great wings effortlessly and every so often swooping down dangerously close.
The whole room was overpowering to the senses; with the sweet smells of the luscious plant life and flowers, the sight of the colourful birds and plants and the beat of the majestic beasts' wings flapping and their squawks far above them.
One of the birds swooped down and landed on Mr. Wonka's large purple top hat.
"These," he finally explained after giving the guests the adequate amount of time to take in what the were seeing "are the Great Brightfeathers... They are a fabulous and endangered animal. They come from the Ticki-Wacka rainforest which is now, unfortunately, completely gone. However, we managed to save the last few of these birds, and keep them here in our sanctuary. The sanctuary is 10 acres wide and 100 feet tall, fitting 10,000 trees. These birds have made an invaluable contribution to our factory. During my exploration into the Tiki-Waka forest, I made the fantastic discovery that these birds'... ahem... droppings, are in fact, cocoa beans..."
Everyone was startled
"So you mean to say," said Charlie's grandad slowly "that all the chocolate made at this factory is... Bird poop..?"
"And delicious bird poop at that!" Said Willy Wonka and he reached up onto the top of his hat, picked up a dropping left by the bird that was still perched there, petted the bird and popped the dropping into his mouth.
"I think I'm going to be sick," grimaced Veruca's father.
The sharp, shrill voice of Petal Herbery piped up from the group;
"Personally, I don't eat chocolate..." said Petal
Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes
"...Because it his extremely harmful towards the environment and your body. How do you think those poor cows feel being milked? Or those defenceless sugar cane plants feel being harvested?! It's cruelty!" She exclaimed
"I don't think they feel anything, as they are plants" said Mr. Wonka simply
"Anyway," Petal said, just getting started "This is a disgrace! These poor birds being locked up here! It's abuse and it's cruel."
"Little girl, I don't think you understand. These birds are in a place exactly like their natural habitat. They were endangered, but we saved them. They can't survive in any other environment." Said Mr. Wonka
But Petal wasn't listening
"I'm going to free them" she said and she swanned over to the doorway and opened it
"Go be free!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.
But none of the birds moved. The all all stayed put and looked at her as if they thought she was mad.
Petal grew frustrated "Come on you stupid birds!" She yelled "Can't you see I'm trying to help you!?"
She made a move towards to the bird perched on Willy Wonka's hat.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," warned Mr. Wonka
"I'll do what I want" insisted Petal arrogantly
She made a grab for the bird. The second she touched the bird, every single bird in the great hall flocked together and swooped down towards Petal, squawking and flapping.
"Help!! Arghh! Stupid rotten birds! AAHHHH!!!!"
Within a flash of colours and squawks and screams, the flock of birds had lifted her up high up into the sky and into the dense rainforest by the birds. Soon the colourful throng of birds was just a bright and colourful blurry speck in the distance, and her desperate cries just a whisper. She was carried on and on, further and further away until there was nothing.
All the onlookers were gobsmacked
"Well lets get a move on then, we haven't got all day. Oh wait we have!" Said Mr Wonka chirply
And after that, no one ever heard of the earthloving, nature loving, environmentally friendly, 'only completely natural ingredients please', 'better than you' Petal Herbert again.
Bathilda Bagart by Nina Hand
Bathilda Bagart was a mean, sly, nasty, manipulative, obnoxious, big-headed and highly untrustworthy girl with a snout-like nose, a short but round frame and blonde hair that sat atop her pinkish scalp in a way that reminded everyone who met her immediately of the muppet, Ms. Piggie, except not quite as cute. These qualities however were positively endearing compared to her most infamous attribute: the bugs. The sadistic smile that crept up her face every single time. The way she hypnotised you into staring at the horrific scene, never taking your eyes away, never blinking, her eyes dancing with joy and excitement, the poor creature jerking and twitching in agony. Her nickname became Beetle Bug Bathilda after the incident in second grade.
Bathilda had a gruesome fascination with torture. It began when she came across a beetle stuck on his back. Bathilda found this so amusing she decided to poke the beetle with a stick. Watching it wriggle and squirm delighted her so much she continued to hurt him using different methods with a variety of tools including a pebble, a pencil, a sharp stone, a sharpened stick and a biro. Miscalculating the sharpness of the biro and the force needed however, the beetles last minute on earth came at last. The fatal puncture squirted goo and guts in a revolting arc around corner of the playground. Most children were nauseated by this stage running far away or trying to hold their lunch down. Bathilda, on the other hand, was ecstatic.
As time went on, Bathilda's obsession grew larger and larger, finding more bugs and insects until there were no more to be found within a 4 mile radius. They were all either dead, in hiding or had scattered far and wide to get away from the monster that was Bathilda Bagart. So she got more confident, more interested, more engrossed. As the fascination grew, so did the animal. Birds,squirrels, foxes, dogs, anything she could catch. Nearly all resulted in the same outcome: a carcass to be disposed of, keeping of course a fragment of the animal to put in a labeled jar on her window sill, at home in her bedroom. A hair, a whisker, a feather, a tooth. She even named them.
Her mother was worried about her, having had to pay a large fine to an ex-dog owner to stop a lawsuit being filed against her daughter for the mysterious disappearance of their precious pooch for the fifth time that month. It was worrisome alright but not nearly as much as the important upcoming business trip Ms. Bagart was planning and so she put it to the back of her mind. Maybe she would check Bathilda into a spa for a day. That usually worked for her anyway.
Beetle Bug Bathilda was getting bored though and had decided to go one step further. “ Animals are boring,” she thought. “They don't even talk, and really a moan or a whimper is not nearly as entertaining as a proper scream, human vocals begging for mercy, the pain echoing through the air...”
The class had circled in a large group around what was to be the biggest gossip in school for months. Lionel Leverton, the biggest boy in school was face down in the dirt, Bathilda’s knee between his shoulder blades screaming as much as he could, which was not much due to the fact his mouth was being stuffed with dirt. “K-he-k-lp” he moaned, trying desperately to call for help. Small red puncture wounds lined each arm, the aftermath of Bathilda's favourite tool, the biro. One of his legs and one of his arms were at an odd angle and his tooth had been chipped on a rock. Bathilda's irises glowed with a cruel enjoyment, her final experiment was better than she could have possibly dreamed of. He started mumbling nonsensically again, this time getting frantic and Bathilda, deranged as she was, did realise that murder was not a crime that could be smoothed over with a wad of cash and so she pulled up his head, shook it a bit and a torrent of dirt, gravel, spit and grass came spurting out of his mouth ending with a long, slimy worm and a lot of gagging on Lionel's part.
“I hathh a gothen ticki-!” He choked and spluttered. “Eth me go an I gith oow my gothen ticki!”
“What? Speak clearly or you'll be plunged right back into the dirt and I bet wormy over there has a few pals nearby if you want a taster!”
He tried again, this time his voice had returned mostly to normal and his words could be heard all over the playground. “I have a golden ticket! Let me go and I'll give you my golden ticket! Please, it's all I have, take it” and then for the first time in anyone's memory, Lionel Leverton began to sob. A small, snivelling, snot-filled, mournful sound that echoed across the yard.
Bathilda grinned satisfactorily and that was that. She had a golden ticket. Remembering where she was, she ran home, before a teacher could catch her, to inform her mother that she had a golden ticket and that she would probably need to move school. Possibly in a different country, depending on how strict they were to students who liked to torture other students. Then again she might just not go back to school. It was quite boring after all.