Feeling more human
Jul. 31st, 2005 12:24 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrS and I get so caught up nowadays, it's rare we're able to just go out and have fun.
Chowed down at the Melting Pot, the ultimate in our guilty pleasures. Then we decided that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory needed a third viewing. I'm pretty sure we shouldn't be giggling that much, but it's so hard to stay quiet and still and adult.
"What's wrong?" Even at his most serious, Willy Wonka always sounded playful. If one didn't know how to listen, they gave themselves the impression he didn't really care.
Nothing could be further from the truth, and Charlie hated that he'd put the faintest of wrinkles in his pale, pretty face. Willy wasn't meant to look unhappy, not even the slightest bit. Since the first time he'd hurt the man, he'd vowed not to do it again. "The candy loses stability every time I get to the last flavor," he explained. All around him were bits of machinery and a profusion of melted and half-melted chocolate. The air was filled with the scent of hot chocolate and fruit - strawberry, banana, mango and dozens more besides. And over all of it the almost overwhelming smell of peaches. "I can't figure out what about the peaches sets it off." Charlie, remarkably, had escaped the wrath of the exploding device. Only a small smear of chocolate on one cheek lent proof of his presence during the catastrophe.
Boots and cane clicked on the few clean tiles left as Willy Wonka moved closer, and Charlie was immediately distracted by his scent. Willy always smelled like chocolate, but it was different than the river and candy bars and bon bons. Deeper, richer. He'd always thought he'd known chocolate, until he met the master of it. Willy Wonka was something else altogether.
His velvet coat brushed against Charlie's bright red sweater as Willy Wonka grasped his chin and ducked his head to taste the chocolate on Charlie's cheek, lips and tongue warm despite the heat in Charlie's cheeks, which had suddenly grown nearly as red as his sweater. "Leave the peach out," Willy Wonka said after a moment, pullling a way and picking his way carefuly over the chcolate and fruit mess. "Ninety nine fruit flavors is plenty."
"But it's suposed to have one hundred," Charlie protested, forcing his fingers not to touch his cheek, which was tingly and hot. "It's not one hundred if it's ninety-nine."
"Doesn't chocolate count as a flavor?" Willy Wonka asked with one of his airy smile.
Charlie couldn't contrive a way to argue that. "If you think it will be all right."
"Of course it will be all right. It's chocolate."
"I'll stick with that then and see how it goes."
"Good." Willy Wonka gave him a more direct smile, bright and cheerful, then turned and continued on his way to check the things that must be checked.
Charlie shook his head and began to direct the Oompa-Loompas in cleaning up the mess, helping them where he could but mostly staying out of their way. He touched his cheek, which still tingled, and wondered when or if he'd ever completely understand Willy Wonka. Eighteen years and still for every part he figured out there were a hundred more to go.
The tittering of the Oompa-Loompas recalled his attention. "Be quiet," he said with a grin. "Would one of you mind fetching more of the fruit syrums? Only don't bring the peach, we're going to try it without."
*Charlie and the Chocolate Factory property Roald Dahl and the relevant movie companies. Story is movieverse-ish, no harm or offense intended. Meant to amuse and hopefully offend my brother's sensibilities
Chowed down at the Melting Pot, the ultimate in our guilty pleasures. Then we decided that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory needed a third viewing. I'm pretty sure we shouldn't be giggling that much, but it's so hard to stay quiet and still and adult.
"What's wrong?" Even at his most serious, Willy Wonka always sounded playful. If one didn't know how to listen, they gave themselves the impression he didn't really care.
Nothing could be further from the truth, and Charlie hated that he'd put the faintest of wrinkles in his pale, pretty face. Willy wasn't meant to look unhappy, not even the slightest bit. Since the first time he'd hurt the man, he'd vowed not to do it again. "The candy loses stability every time I get to the last flavor," he explained. All around him were bits of machinery and a profusion of melted and half-melted chocolate. The air was filled with the scent of hot chocolate and fruit - strawberry, banana, mango and dozens more besides. And over all of it the almost overwhelming smell of peaches. "I can't figure out what about the peaches sets it off." Charlie, remarkably, had escaped the wrath of the exploding device. Only a small smear of chocolate on one cheek lent proof of his presence during the catastrophe.
Boots and cane clicked on the few clean tiles left as Willy Wonka moved closer, and Charlie was immediately distracted by his scent. Willy always smelled like chocolate, but it was different than the river and candy bars and bon bons. Deeper, richer. He'd always thought he'd known chocolate, until he met the master of it. Willy Wonka was something else altogether.
His velvet coat brushed against Charlie's bright red sweater as Willy Wonka grasped his chin and ducked his head to taste the chocolate on Charlie's cheek, lips and tongue warm despite the heat in Charlie's cheeks, which had suddenly grown nearly as red as his sweater. "Leave the peach out," Willy Wonka said after a moment, pullling a way and picking his way carefuly over the chcolate and fruit mess. "Ninety nine fruit flavors is plenty."
"But it's suposed to have one hundred," Charlie protested, forcing his fingers not to touch his cheek, which was tingly and hot. "It's not one hundred if it's ninety-nine."
"Doesn't chocolate count as a flavor?" Willy Wonka asked with one of his airy smile.
Charlie couldn't contrive a way to argue that. "If you think it will be all right."
"Of course it will be all right. It's chocolate."
"I'll stick with that then and see how it goes."
"Good." Willy Wonka gave him a more direct smile, bright and cheerful, then turned and continued on his way to check the things that must be checked.
Charlie shook his head and began to direct the Oompa-Loompas in cleaning up the mess, helping them where he could but mostly staying out of their way. He touched his cheek, which still tingled, and wondered when or if he'd ever completely understand Willy Wonka. Eighteen years and still for every part he figured out there were a hundred more to go.
The tittering of the Oompa-Loompas recalled his attention. "Be quiet," he said with a grin. "Would one of you mind fetching more of the fruit syrums? Only don't bring the peach, we're going to try it without."
*Charlie and the Chocolate Factory property Roald Dahl and the relevant movie companies. Story is movieverse-ish, no harm or offense intended. Meant to amuse and hopefully offend my brother's sensibilities
