"Chocolate alligators," said Chili. "Fine. I don't care anymore."

"No," said JUROR. "Crocodiles."

"No," said Tide. "Chocodiles."

Chili, Keerthi, JUROR, Mahuika and Tide had been walking together towards the largest mountain in the VIP Room where the Very Intelligent Pheasants lived. Lim's suit had been subsumed by vomit that Keerthi had been unable to scrub off, forcing him to stay and wait while his self-cleaning features worked to free him. He said it would take at least one day to fix, which meant that they couldn't afford to wait.

The other five were over halfway there when they reached a river filled with chocodiles. There was no way across.

While the children sat and tried to decide what to do, Chili threw a pebble into the river.

"Keerthi," said Chili. "I accidentally dropped my favorite pebble in the river. He is my best friend and I lack the nutrition to retrieve him. Please jump in and save him."

"Chili," said Keerthi. "I know I already asked, but why do you want to kill me? I don't understand. I haven't done anything to you."

"Why," said Chili. "I ask for one small favor and you accuse me of trying to murder you. For shame. I am sure my good friend JUROR will help in your place."

"No," said JUROR.

"Or Tide! You love sea animals, and you are already wearing your diving suit. Go and hug them while you rescue Rockefeller for me. They will love that."

"No," said Tide. "Chocodiles aren't sea animals, since they live in sugar water. And that pebble isn't your friend. You were eating pebbles on the way here."

"Those weren't friend pebbles," Chili explained.

"You wouldn't know anything about friends," said Tide. "You don't have any."

"Shut up and die," said Chili. "I have plenty of friends."

"I doubt it," said Tide. "Nobody wants to be friends with people who try to kill them all the time. That is why everyone loves Ocean. The Ocean never killed anyone."

Chili opened his mouth to defend himself, preparing to list off all the many friends he did have. There were many! He was sure. There had to be.

"Um," said Chili. "Ned Brillbusker. We're great friends."

"You only met him once," said Tide. "He was interviewing you on television."

"And how many times did he interview you?"

"Once," said Tide.

"Oh. He did, didn't he."

Chili frowned and laid down and ate another pebble, facing the river.

"Chili," said Keerthi. "If you stop trying to murder us, we would be glad to be friends with you."

"No," said Tide.

"No," said JUROR.

"I vape," said Mahuika.

Chili sighed and ate more pebbles.

"We can worry about this later," said JUROR. "We should."

"Can you talk to the chocodiles, Tide?" asked Keerthi.

"I can try," she said. "But they aren't Ocean dwellers, so I wouldn't expect much."

Tide walked up to the edge of the river.

"Hello," she said. "My name is Tide. Would you mind helping me and my associates cross the river? We are trying to rescue a slaveowner."

"Don't phrase it like that," said Keerthi. "He isn't a slaveowner. He was pretending to test us."

"Forget I said that," said Tide. "We are trying to rescue a king who is pretending to be a slaveowner."

The chocodiles growled.

"What did they say?" asked JUROR.

"They say they don't care, but they will let us cross. Under one condition."

W

"Fuck you," said Chili as soon as they made it away from the river. "You gave them all my pebbles. My delicious pebbles."

"You made them look tasty with how you were gobbling them down," said Keerthi. "You can't blame them for wanting to try."

"We are in a chocolate factory," said JUROR. "You'll get."

"Stop doing that," said Chili. "No one cares about your art."

"I do," said JUROR. "That is enough for me."

"No you don't," said Chili. "Truncatism is pointless but you don't even do it. Not really. You only stop sentences and unimportant actions nobody cares about. You would never stop breathing. You would never stop blinking. You would never stop anything in a way that makes life harder for you or people you care about. You are an idiot who tricked bigger idiots into thinking you are deep. You are lazy and worthless and no one will ever love you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," said JUROR.

"So quit the contest!" said Chili. "That would be honest. But you won't because you want to win a chocolate factory. If you ended it before you could win that would show that you were a real artist instead of a faker."

"I am an artist," said JUROR. "What I do is art."

"Bad art," said Chili.

JUROR said nothing.

The children walked for a long time, neither the occasional sounds of helpful fun facts or dirt-chewing helping to lighten the mood. They crossed three more rivers and passed through one more forest. By the time the fake sun had started to set, they made it to the mountain and found the entrance to the cave the VIPs lived in.

They did not enter.

"Uh," said Tide. "How are we going to do this?"

"You should save me!" Mr. Bucket shouted from inside the cave.

The children exchanged glances.

"You can hear us, Mr. Bucket?" asked Keerthi.

"Yes! Yes! It is a small cave! Maybe you cannot see, but as soon as you enter, you hit a wall, and then the only way you can go is up! It's a long, thin tunnel up and up and up and up! It goes up until you reach the peak of the mountain!"

"Did the VIPs trap you?" asked Tide.

"No! No! They are here, clumped up together in the vertical tunnel like bats, hanging upside down."

"So they can hear you," said JUROR.

The VIPs shrieked.

"Yes," said Mr. Bucket. "But they can only understand the one with the helmet."

"My name is Tide."

"Sure, if you say so! But please tell them to stop! I do not want anyone to get hurt, most of all me. Please explain to them that I am a good boss."

"You are not a good boss," said Tide. "You are a slaveowner. I cannot lie to them."

The VIPs shrieked with approval.

"No! No! No! You do not understand," said Mr. Bucket. "The VIPs are not my slaves! This is a misunderstanding. I have not been outside of my factory for a long time, so perhaps the definition has changed. But from what I know the VIPs cannot be my slaves! I would have known if they were! It would have changed the taste!"

"You admitted that you don't let them leave," said Tide.

"But I can't let them leave! There are too many of them! The trees wouldn't have any if they took all the leaves for themselves! I need my WonkaLeaves! They are too delicious!"

JUROR sighed.

"You said you owned them," said Tide.

"It's true," said Mr. Bucket. "But that is not my fault! I cannot make them better at computer games! I gave them shiny new keyboards and deluxe monitors to practice with because they asked. It is not my fault that they can't beat me in multiplayer. They should try harder!"

"You also said that they aren't allowed to stop working," said Tide.

"Not during their shift, no," said Mr. Bucket. "But they have breaks and twelve weeks paid vacation and maternity time. They are allowed to quit, but none ever have."

Tide repeated what Mr. Bucket said and asked the VIPs if it was true. They shrieked.

"They say you don't give them any sick leave," said Tide.

"Of course I don't give them any sick leave! They are always sick! They vomit for a living!"

"But you don't pay them," said JUROR.

"Are you listening? I give them computers and paid vacation! Obviously I am giving them regular paychecks too!"

Tide asked the VIPs if they got paid.

"They say they only get minimum wage," said Tide.

"Yes," said Mr. Bucket. "That is right. I am only giving them minimum wage. Tide. How many millions of pounds and or dollars-"

"Sand dollars," said Tide.

"No," said Mr. Bucket. "Land dollars. How many millions of American land dollars do you think minimum wage is in Wonkaland? Here is a hint. It is a number between five and above five."

Tide asked the VIPs if they were receiving over five million dollars per hour.

They shrieked.

"They said you don't do direct deposit. They want direct deposit. They don't like the inconvenience of having to deposit a physical check every two weeks."

"They will pry the forms for direct deposit out of my cold dead hands," said Mr. Bucket. "But by now please say that you can see that they are not my slaves! I am an excellent boss! Once I gave them a ping pong table! No terrible boss has ever given their employees a ping pong table!"

"VIPs," said Tide. "Mr. Bucket is a horrible person. But from what I have seen he is not a bad boss. I am the most thoughtful religious leader in the world and I would have never bought my followers a ping pong table."

"Fuck both of you," said Chili.

The VIPs shrieked meekly.

"Yes," said Tide. "You were wrong. I am sure if you let Mr. Bucket go and tell him that you are sorry he will forgive you. He still needs you to make his coffee."

The VIPS shrieked apologetically and then grew silent. The children heard the sounds of someone's feet hitting the cave floor, and Mr. Bucket ran out and greeted the children.

"Good job, Tide. You get fifty points."

"There were points?" asked JUROR.

"No," said Mr. Bucket. "But there are now. If I am ever again held hostage by Very Intelligent Pheasants who think they are my slaves and you manage to free me without shedding anyone's blood you will receive fifty points."

"Do we get points for anything else?" asked Keerthi.

"No," said Mr. Bucket.

A Taranturoo-shaped Taranturoo landed on the ground next to Mr. Bucket and the rest of the children, shaking the ground.

"The self-cleaning went faster than expected."

"Good! Chopin baby! The emergency is over but I still need you. Please destroy the VIPs immediately."

"Sure," said Lim. He went inside the cave.

"But Mr. Bucket, you said-"

"Keerthi," said Mr. Bucket. "I don't want to do it. But they forced my hand. What if they tried to do it again? I need to set an example."

The children heard the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from the cave. The VIPs shrieked.

"But they're people! They have feelings and opinions like you or me! You can't do that to them if they are smart enough to have homes and families and bank accounts!"

"No," said Mr. Bucket. "They are too intelligent for that. They are all members of their local credit union."

"But Mr. Bucket-"

"I know Keerthi, I know! Yes! I admit, it does make it that much harder to find an ATM when you need it, but the amount you save in maintenance fees-"

"That isn't what I meant!" yelled Keerthi. "It isn't fair! Even if they were wrong to go against you, you cannot destroy all the VIPs!"

"Of course I can," said Mr. Bucket. "I do it all the time, remember? But I'm tired right now. Lim appears to be good with technology because of his Taranturoo and I thought he would enjoy it."

Lim walked out of the cave.

"It's done. The VIPS have been destroyed."

"Thank you, Lim. Did you turn the computer off after you won the match?"

"Sorry," said Lim. "I forgot."

Lim walked back inside the cave. The VIPs shrieked again.

"No," yelled Tide. "He's not giving you a rematch! We don't have time."

"Oh," said Keerthi. "You meant in a computer game. Oh."

"Duh," said Mr. Bucket.

"What did you think he meant?" asked Lim as he walked back out.

W

After Mr. Bucket led the children away from the cave and back into the forest and Chili had his final share of WonkaDirt, he stretched out his arms in the air and yawned.

"What a fun room that was," said Mr. Bucket. "But it is time to go ahead to the next one. Let us continue on."

"Do you think we could take a short break from walking?" asked Keerthi. "We were hiking for a long time to try and get to you."

"Have no fears," said Mr. Bucket. "Once we reach the next room, I have arranged transportation to carry us forward. All we need to do is go down the stairs."

"What stairs?" asked Tide.

"The ones going down," said Mr. Bucket.

"Right," said JUROR. "But where can we find those stairs?"

"Good question," said Mr. Bucket. "Children, if you are out in public and you want to find stairs, what should you do?"

"Look for a sign?" asked Keerthi.

"Vape?" asked Mahuika.

"No," said Mr. Bucket. "If you want stairs you need to have them wanting to stair at you. In most countries, people might stair at you for any reason. Not in WonkaLand! Here people only go around stair-ing if they see something truly stair-able."

"Like what?" asked Lim. "A person in a Taranturoo is worth stair-ing at."

"No," said Mr. Bucket. "In WonkaLand incredible inventions are commonplace! So the stairs will not stair at that. But no matter where you are there is something no one can help stair-ing at. That is how we will make the stairs come."

Mr. Wonka pulled a balloon out of his pocket and blew into it. Quickly it filled up with air and became a normal top hat, which he put on top of his head to replace the one which the VIPs had disintegrated.

He threw his new hat to the ground and pulled off his hair. It was a wig.

"I am bald," said Mr. Bucket. "Children, if you remember only one lesson from this experience, please know. Shaving cream does not belong on pies."

"I hate you," said Chili.

"Understandable," said Mr. Bucket. "Thankfully it will grow back. But since I am currently bald…"

A wide door appeared behind Mr. Bucket and the children. It had wide wooden eyes and a fat mouth.

It was stair-ing.

Mr. Bucket turned around and pointed at it.

"You! You! What do you think you are doing!"

"Oh," said the door. "I was… it wasn't you. It. It was the forest. I love stair-ing at the forest. The trees are beautiful this time of year."

"Liar!" shouted Mr. Bucket. "You are a filthy liar! You rude rude rude door! I am bald! My life is hard enough without stair-ers like you! You have no right! No right!"

"I'm sorry," said the door. "I wasn't trying-"

"No!" said Mr. Bucket. "Shut up! I do not want to hear it. My group and I will be leaving immediately! Now open up! Consider yourself lucky that I do not go around telling everyone what you were doing."

The door swung itself open. "Sorry. Sorry. There's no excuse. Please. I'm sorry."

"Terrible!" said Mr. Bucket as he shooed the children inside and followed them. "Shame on you!"

He slammed the door shut.

W

"Sorry about that," said Mr. Bucket. "But there is no other way to exit the VIP Room."

Mr. Bucket and the children were standing on the top of a long, wide set of white stairs. There was enough room for ten Tarantulas to have walked side by side. They were steep, and Chili couldn't see the end of them.

"You said there would be transportation," said Tide.

"Coming up, coming up. First we must go down the stairs. There are only five thousand. Make haste, children!"

Mr. Bucket began putting his wig back on.

"Go! Don't wait for me. You are children. You should be faster than me."

Keerthi shrugged and took her first step down. The others followed. JUROR stepped on his shoelaces and began travelling down the stairs, racing past the others.

"JUROR!" yelled Mr. Bucket. "Stop! That is not how you walk down stairs! You are supposed to go down from the first step to the second! From the second to the third! You cannot skip all those steps!"

JUROR continued skipping steps.

"Fine! Fine! But please! If you must skip steps, at least touch them with your shoes! It will contaminate the WonkaSteps otherwise! JUROR! No! You cannot land on the steps with your teeth! No! Your exposed bones are not any better! Stop it! JUROR, I am begging you! Truncate! Truncate!"

Mr. Bucket's cries did nothing to slow JUROR's descent. He fell until no one could see him anymore.

"Hold on! We're coming!" yelled Keerthi.

Mr. Bucket and the rest of the children raced down as quickly and carefully as they could. It took them several minutes to get to him.

After more than two thousand stairs they found him again. He was breathing, slumped over four stairs.

"Oh, JUROR. I am sorry to say it but this is not acceptable. You know I had a rule about getting stomach acid on the stairs. The contract I taped to the contract on the back of the contract you signed was very clear about this."

"Mr. Bucket, help him!"

"I will, Keerthi. I will. But we need to be patient. It's almost time."

"Time? Time for what? What are you talking about?" asked Keerthi. "We don't have time for this! He's going to die!"

"There!" Mr. Bucket shouted and pointed to a figure coming at them from the top of the stairs. "There! Oh boy! This is it!"

A tiny man wearing a business suit walked down the stairs and approached the group. He said nothing. He looked sad and carried a briefcase.

"Where are the others?" asked Mr. Bucket. "And what are you wearing?"

The man handed Mr. Bucket a piece of paper. He scanned it quickly.

"Letter of resignation?" exclaimed Mr. Bucket. "Couldn't come up with anything? What do you mean you couldn't come up with anything? You had weeks to think up a poem! Weeks! Is this a joke?"

"He only fell several minutes ago," said Tide.

"We tried," said the man. "We couldn't do it. Poetry is hard."

"That is no excuse to quit!" screamed Mr. Bucket. "This is absurd! This is the only reason you lot have been allowed to stay! The only one! I have tolerated your onion whizzpoppers for twenty twiddletolling years and you come to me now and say you cannot do the one job I have given you since?"

"It's hard. We've been out of practice, and-"

"And nothing! I've given you dime and time and you won't even rhyme! You had permission to make up words if it helped and you still cannot do it! How? How?"

"It's hard. There isn't much there to work with. He doesn't end what he does? What does a poem like that focus on? Are we supposed to end the poem early? Would anyone even recognize that we did that? It's the first one, so without any established pattern-"

"Oh my god," said Mr. Bucket. "What are you talking about? It was shoelaces! His fatal flaw was that he didn't tie his shoelaces! That was all it needed to be! Kids who don't like laces will fall flat on their faces! They won't go on chases and they won't go to places! Like that but better! Can't you do that?"

"Mr. Bucket," screamed Keerthi. "Please!"

Mr. Bucket turned to a crying Keerthi.

"Get out of here, Belleau. I never want to see any of you again."

Belleau wiped a tear from his eye and left the way he came.

Mr. Bucket took a breath to calm himself down and snapped his fingers. JUROR, JUROR's teeth, and everything else JUROR was pulled into the floor.

"Where did he go? What's going to-"

"Keerthi!" shouted Mr. Bucket. "Relax. JUROR will be fine. The factory will bring him to the non-citizens hospital and he will be treated at a reasonable expense. My medical care is the best in the world."

"When you dragged him into the floor, he didn't have a pulse," said Lim.

Mr. Bucket laughed. "Any doctor who would worry about a mild concern like that shouldn't be practicing," said Mr. Bucket. "Have no fears, JUROR will be fine. Physically. Morally, no. There is nothing I can do for rulebreakers. A shame."

He smiled.

"One was a dud, yes. But! But! But! We have five excellent children remaining, all of impeccable character and unquestionable intelligence. Smoke! Ocean! Baby! Annoying and Annoying! We can't stop here! Down the stairs we must continue! Down to the Vaping Room!"

Someone did something.