Charlie and the Chocolate Factory: Chapters 17–23

“I am doing something!” said Mr. Gloop, who was now taking off his jacket and getting ready to dive into the chocolate. But while he was doing this, the wretched boy was being sucked closer and closer toward the mouth of one of the great pipes that was dangling down into the river.

“Because the taste would be terrible,” said Mr. Wonka. “Just imagine it! Augustus-flavored chocolate-coated Gloop! No one would buy it.”
“They most certainly would!” cried Mr. Gloop indignantly.

"...If you leave him in the chocolate-mixing barrel too long, he’s liable to get poured out into the fudge boiler, and that really would be a disaster, wouldn’t it? My fudge would become quite uneatable!”

How long could we allow this beast
To gorge and guzzle, feed and feast
On everything he wanted to?

But this revolting boy, of course,
Was so unutterably vile,
So greedy, foul, and infantile,
He left a most disgusting taste
Inside our mouths, and so in haste
We chose a thing that, come what may,
Would take the nasty taste away.

But this revolting boy, of course,
Was so unutterably vile,
So greedy, foul, and infantile,
He left a most disgusting taste
Inside our mouths, and so in haste
We chose a thing that, come what may,
Would take the nasty taste away.

But this revolting boy, of course,
Was so unutterably vile,
So greedy, foul, and infantile,
He left a most disgusting taste
Inside our mouths, and so in haste
We chose a thing that, come what may,
Would take the nasty taste away.

But don’t, dear children, be alarmed;
Augustus Gloop will not be harmed,
Although, of course, we must admit
He will be altered quite a bit.

He’ll be quite changed from what he’s been,
When he goes through the fudge machine:
Slowly, the wheels go round and round,
The cogs begin to grind and pound

A hundred knives to slice, slice, slice;
We add some sugar, cream, and spice;
We boil him for a minute more,
Until we’re absolutely sure
That all the greed and all the gall
Is boiled away for once and all.

This boy, who only just before
Was loathed by men from shore to shore,
This greedy brute, this louse’s ear,
Is loved by people everywhere!

This boy, who only just before
Was loathed by men from shore to shore,
This greedy brute, this louse’s ear,
Is loved by people everywhere!

For who could hate or bear a grudge
Against a luscious bit of fudge?”

“He’s gone off his rocker!” shouted one of the fathers, aghast, and the other parents joined in the chorus of frightened shouting.

“He’s balmy!”

They streaked past a black door, STOREROOM NUMBER 71, it said on it. WHIPS—ALL SHAPES AND SIZES.

“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!”

When Mr. Wonka shouted “Stop the boat!”, the Oompa-Loompas jammed their oars into the river and backed water furiously. The boat stopped.

“All my most secret new inventions are cooking and simmering in here! Old Fickelgruber would give his front teeth to be allowed inside just for three minutes! So would Prodnose and Slugworth and all the other rotten chocolate makers! But now, listen to me! I want no messing about when you go in! No touching, no meddling, and no tasting! Is that agreed?”

He opened the door and stepped out of the boat into the room. The four children and their parents all scrambled after him.

He lifted the lid from a huge pot and took a sniff; then he rushed over and dipped a finger into a barrel of sticky yellow stuff and had a taste; then he skipped across to one of the machines and turned half a dozen knobs this way and that; then he peered anxiously through the glass door of a gigantic oven, rubbing his hands and cackling with delight at what he saw inside.

“It’s utterly impossible,” said Veruca Salt.

“I want the gum!” Violet said obstinately. “What’s so silly?”

“It’s changing!” shouted Violet, chewing and grinning both at the same time. “The second course is coming up! It’s roast beef! It’s tender and juicy! Oh boy, what a flavor! The baked potato is marvelous, too! It’s got a crispy skin and it’s all filled with butter inside!”

Little Charlie Bucket was staring at her absolutely spellbound, watching her huge rubbery lips as they pressed and unpressed with the chewing, and Grandpa Joe stood beside him, gaping at the girl.

Mr. Wonka was wringing his hands and saying, “No, no, no, no, no! It isn’t ready for eating! It isn’t right! You mustn’t do it!”

She chewed while bathing in the tub,
She chewed while dancing at her club,
She chewed in church and on the bus;
It really was quite ludicrous!

And when she couldn’t find her gum,
She’d chew up the linoleum

She went on chewing till, at last,
Her chewing muscles grew so vast
That from her face her giant chin
Stuck out just like a violin.

For years and years she chewed away,
Consuming fifty packs a day,
Until one summer’s eve, alas,
A horrid business came to pass.

They were, you see, in such a groove
They positively had to move.

And very grim it was to hear
In pitch darkness, loud and clear,
This sleeping woman’s great big trap
Opening and shutting, snap-snap-snap!

And that is why we’ll try so hard
To save Miss Violet Beauregarde
From suffering an equal fate.
She’s still quite young. It’s not too late,
Provided she survives the cure.

And so saying, Mr. Wonka scuttled across to the far end of the Inventing Room and went out through a small secret door hidden behind a lot of pipes and stoves.

There were doors every twenty paces or so along the corridor now, and they all had something written on them, and strange clanking noises were coming from behind several of them, and delicious smells came wafting through the keyholes, and sometimes little jets of colored steam shot out from the cracks underneath.