"Alright, ladies and gents!" Willy Wonka began, "The grandmas and grandpa, including Charlie and Grandpa Joe, you all have never laid eyes upon this room. Does this intrigue any of you in the slightest?"

The area was filled with gardens of growing lollipops and other big candies that were planted deep in chocolaty, soily ground. Oompa Loompas were watering all the stemmed candies with different kinds of liquid fruit flavorings to help the scrumptious confectionery heighten to their fulfilled sizes. As each drop soaked deep into the roots, it gave the sweets not just more mass, but it gave them extra unique flavors for each candy so their savors would be unforgettably satisfying. Willy Wonka licked his lips at the luscious sugar nibblies. Once he entered this room, he always wished he wouldn't have to leave the saccharine-scented space. If he didn't, however, then things would never get done. Sadly.

Charlie's eyes were filled with such wonder that all Wonka could do was beam at the boy's pure innocence. The hungry boy licked his lips as well. He was about to walk over to the Oompa Loompas to ask them if he could try a bit of the candy. Wonka seized his wrist, then tsked whilst moving his index back and forth.

"No, my dear boy. The candies still have an amount of time to grow."

"Awww, okay." Charlie muttered, his head tipped downwards.

"I'm willing to try them too, Mr. Wonka." Grandpa Joe admitted.

Wonka raised an eyebrow in amusement and slight annoyance.

"... I mean after they're done growing." Grandpa Joe laughed nervously.

"Alright, Charlie." Wonka avoided the weird, old man. "Here's what we will do. The next room will contain candies that have finished growing thus far. Are any of you interested?" His voice ringed with a bit of chaff.

Soon after he mentioned that, Charlie and Grandpa Joe quickly pushed the bed into the next room so they and the other three elders in the bed could try the heavenly candies themselves. Willy Wonka and one Oompa Loompa shook their heads while trying to hold in their laughter.

"Mr. Wonka, they are indeed a very intriguing family to have come across." The lead male Oompa Loompa admitted bluntly.

"Yes, my dear companion. They do keep me up on my toes. Positively speaking, that is. Charlie's favorite grandpa does feel a bit off to me, though. I wonder if he's had a questionable past in his childhood."

"Remember what you said once, Mr. Wonka?" Lead Oompa Loompa reminded him.

"Hm? That is?"

"That it is not good to dwell on about your past, or anyone's past. You always want to develop onto your future and avoid the past, or you will drag yourself behind."

Willy Wonka nodded solemnly. "You are right. You see, Roark, perhaps I should be poetic about my promise so I wouldn't ever forget it."

"Go right ahead. I have to make sure the other Oompa Loompas are achieving great success with their jobs." Roark left Wonka's side and proceeded into the garden.

(Oompa Loompa names: Their leader is obviously Roark, and the other 8 males are: Ilberic, Erling, Reginard, Robin, Isembold, Fredegar, Isengar, Milo, and Harding. Their only female Oompa Loompa is named Fíriel.)

(Willy Wonka couldn't help but recite a negative poem in a pained whisper "Alone" by Edgar Allen Poe.)

"From childhood's hour I have not been                                                                                                                 As others were—I have not seen                                                                                                                                    As others saw—I could not bring                                                                                                                               My passions from a common spring—                                                                                                                  From the same source I have not taken                                                                                                                  My sorrow—I could not awaken                                                                                                                                  My heart to joy at the same tone—                                                                                                                          And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—                                                                                                                                  Then—in my childhood—in the dawn                                                                                                                          Of a most stormy life—was drawn                                                                                                                        From ev'ry depth of good and ill                                                                                                                              The mystery which binds me still—                                                                                                                              From the torrent, or the fountain—                                                                                                                        From the red cliff of the mountain—                                                                                                                   From the sun that 'round me roll'd                                                                                                                            In its autumn tint of gold—                                                                                                                                      From the lightning in the sky                                                                                                                                            As it pass'd me flying by—                                                                                                                                          From the thunder, and the storm—                                                                                                                            And the cloud that took the form                                                                                                                              (When the rest of Heaven was blue)                                                                                                                            Of a demon in my view—"

(Then, Willy Wonka sighed with his eyes closed and recites a positive poem in a sing-song voice "If" by Rudyard Kipling.) 

"If you can keep your head when all about you                                                                                                         Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;                                                                                                                       If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,                                                                                                   But make allowance for their doubting too;                                                                                                           If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,                                                                                                              Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,                                                                                                                        Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,                                                                                                            And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

"If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

"If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

"If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run—
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!"

(I'm sorry if this makes no sense. I tried to find poems that could relate to his feelings and what his inner battles are truly like for him.)

Willy Wonka felt relief run through him as he got all of his emotions out the way he wanted and needed to. He didn't realize he was sitting down on the grassy ground in the most elegant position possible. He did once he woke up from himself. He stood up, waved to the Oompa Loompas goodbye, then ambled towards the next room.

"Grandpa Joe! Look at how huge the candies are!" Charlie squealed.

"Them beauties must be at least a few feet long or so. Most of the ones in the garden were only a foot long!" Grandpa Joe felt like he was going to faint.

"I wanna try some so bad!" Grandma Josephine begged.

"Count me in!" Grandma Georgina exclaimed.

"Nah. I must have lost my sweet tooth. I don't feel any desire of having candy." Grandpa George grunted.

"Who insists you exclusively necessitate candy?" Everyone heard a familiar, warm voice reverberate through the whole expanse.

"Hi, Mr. Wonka!" Charlie grinned.

Wonka was situated in the doorway, glancing around the sight of the room and Charlie's family and took it all in with ease. His suspicion grew however when they all surrounded the buckets full of candy.

Grandpa Joe leaned against a heavy bucket. "Hello, Mr. Wonka!"

"Mr. Wonka, what were you doing back there?" Charlie asked.

"Oh, I was distracted having a conversation with the lead Oompa Loompa. You all should have waited until I was ready to lead the lot of you."

"I could've sworn I heard him singing in there too." Charlie whispered to Grandpa Joe.

"I wouldn't be surprised if he did, Charlie." Grandpa Joe snorted whilst he quickly shoved his fist in his pocket. "The man is a loony, after all."

"How timely you all reached for the rules of the factory first before I did." Willy Wonka chuckled for a second, then regained his senses. "Rule #1: If you are not familiar with a room, then do not enter without me. Rule #2: Do not touch anything unless I say so. Rule #3: Do NOT disrespect my Oompa Loompas. Rule #4: You can only have eating breaks on the bottommost floor or topmost floor. Rule #5: If you make a mess on any other floor besides those two floors, then clean it up. Rule #6: If any of you hate chocolate, then I don't recommend you stay here all the time. Rule #7: You are not allowed to run here the majority of the time. You are only allowed to if you are in danger or you believe you are. I will give you a pass, Grandpa Joe and Charlie. Rule #8: No disrespecting anybody around here, especially with verbal cursing... unless it's Arthur Slugworth. Rule #9: Do NOT steal anything. That will always be prohibited. And Rule #10: Do NOT destroy my rooms on purpose, or there will be SEVERE CONSEQUENCES. Are you all able to remember these directives?"

"Yes, Mr. Wonka!!!" Everyone concurred besides one person.

"Good. Goody good gumdrops! And awaaay we go to our destinations!" He bounced in his steps as he led everyone to their new bedroom and living room. Luckily, they were still on the bottom floor(Since you can't easily move a bed up the stairs. Lol.), so Wonka was easily able to move them into their new space.

"There you go, ladies and gentlemen! I hope you all relish living here for as extensive as you need it to be. D'accord? Einverstanden? Concordato? Agreed?"

"Agreed!!!" Everyone said that time.

"Great! Hope you all have a good night's sleep!" Then he left their area.

Once three out of the four elders were asleep and it was early morning, Grandpa Joe was the one who was still up. The old man stood beside Charlie's own bed, then woke him up with a poke on his shoulder.

"Charlie!" Grandpa Joe whispered. "I got somethin' to show you."

*****(Morning)

Michelle Bucket sighed as she proceeded closer to the factory, albeit hesitantly. She still kind of didn't want her family living in there, but if they truly wanted to, then why stop them? If it weren't for their genuine desperation, then she surely would've never changed her mind. She was only doing this for their sake.

Only that. Nothing else.

She was only a couple of steps away from the gate until someone appeared behind her and poked her shoulder.

"Ma'am? What business do you have here?"