“Everything you see is edible. From the chocolate river to the flowers. Even the teacups can be nibbled.”
“Mr. Wonka, sir.”
“Yes, my dear child.”
“That boy is eating through the floorboards.”
“Flour boards, you mean. And, that’s quite alright.”
“Are you sure? He seems to be nibbling awfully fast.”
“You mean to say chomping. At the bit, perhaps, since you won’t let up from tugging on my jacket. And I’m sure you mean to say tastefully fast.”
“Sir Wonka –”
“Doctor!”
“Sorry, sir Wonka doctor. That boy seems to be –”
“I’m aware, good sir, doctor child. The boy is nibbling – that is, chomping – at the floor hoard.”
“Hoard?”
“Hey! Mind your manners, son!”
“And you yours, parent! Everyone, everyone, please, listen! I see a child is eating through our foundation! Not to worry. The pipes beneath us are made of sugar and filled with the flowing chocolate you see cascading down the –”
“He’s sprung a leak, that kid has!”
“Well, get him a bandage.”
“No, Wonka, my son’s broken your pipes.”
“Not my whistle, I hope.”
“No, your chocolate sewers!”
“The sewers, I believe, do not have chocolate in them. However, as I said, everything is – hey, little girl, why am I suddenly leaning? You’re not eating my cane, are you?”
“It’s edible, is it not?”
“Why, yes, but how am I supposed to limp properly?”
“This hat’s mighty tasty.”
“And you! Get down from my head. How’d you even get up there without me noticing?”
“A ladder, Mr. Wonka. Which I’ve [burp] eaten.”
“Your hair is eatable, too, Wonka?”
“That’s edible. And feel free to call me Willy.”
“Yes, you’re right. It’s cotton candy.”
“You didn’t think this was my real hair did you?”
“But edible? It’s disgusting! What flavor is this?!”
“Why, hair-flavored, of course. Ow! That’s my finger!”
“You said everything!”
“Obviously not my flesh. Why don’t you try eating your son’s leg first?”
“His mother’s already done that.”
“Oh my gobstopper! Stop gobbling, you fools! You mustn’t eat each other!”
“Everything is edible!”
“No! You folks are only eatable! Awwww!”
The newspaper the following morning described the chocolate and sewer contents flooding the factory and the cannibalistic deaths of Willy Wonka and guests in delicious detail.
NOTE: I saw Wonka opening weekend. It was not terrible and not good (like a milk chocolate bunny). About three weeks later, the above story came to me as soon as I awoke for the day. I held off on posting it to refrain from being part of all the Wonka analyses out there.
