"I'm giving it to you Charlie,", announced Willy, "the whole factory is yours."

"But Mr. Wonka, I can't accept this, I..."

"Hush Charlie, let me explain. I never had children of my own, and I'm getting too old to run this place. I'd hate my competitors to get their hands on it; they just don't understand the beauty of confectionary," said the old man, dreamily.

"But you can't just give it to me, I mean, it must be worth millions. And my family needs me and..."

But Charlie couldn't argue against such a golden opportunity, after all, his family were in poverty, and the factory would make them all the money they ever needed.

"Gee, Mr. Wonka," Charlie gushed, "I don't know what to say!"

"You don't have to say anything Charlie. This is my gift to you; you were the only child that avoided temptation in the factory, and by far the politest. You even refused the gift at first, which proved to me that you were the perfect person to take over from me."

Wonka paused for a moment, before beckoning Charlie through a door that he hadn't noticed before. "Come Charlie, for the full tour."

Charlie followed Wonka through the door, into a brightly lit room where the walls seemed to move with him. A dizzy feeling swept over the young boy, who looked up at his wizened benefactor.

"That, Charlie, is my latest creation; the patented Wonka LSD Door. Guaranteed to take you on the best trip of your life, for as long as you want. To reverse the effect, you just step through the door again," he laughed.

They went back through the door, and Charlie's sensibility was restored. "Gee, Mr. Wonka, that was great. I have an idea on a similar theme; can I release a chocolate Charlie Bar?"

"Charlie, that'd just be ridiculous. LSD Doors are one thing, Charlie Bars are quite another entirely. You're a good kid, but you have much to learn about the confectionary trade. But before we begin, let's see the whole factory, from the skies."

"Mr. Wonka, you have a private helicopter?", enquired the boy.

"Helicopter? Pah! They're old news. I've got the very latest in modern aviation technology. Come with me."

They stepped through another door, and another, before coming up to a glass walled room.

"Charlie, my boy, step in here, into my Great Glass Elevator."

"A lift? Not a helicopter? Or a jet?"

"An elevator, Charlie. but not just any elevator; the best damn elevator in the world! Or out of the world. You see, Charlie, this isn't just any elevator, it can fly, and it can go into space, and it's all powered by skyhooks."

Charlie nodded thoughtfully, before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small mobile phone, and tapped a number into it; although Charlie was poor, he still had a mobile phone, like all children of his age do.

"Hello, is that the psychiatric hospital? I'm here with a deranged confectioner who says he has a flying elevator. Yes, that's right. How long? A few seconds? OK, bye!", he said into the phone.

"Who were you talking to, Charlie", asked Willy.

"Loony bin. They're coming to take you away, Mr. Wonka."

"Bugger," said Willy.

At this point, two burly psychiatric nurses burst in and took Willy away.

"Thank God for that," thought Charlie, "now I can get on with making the Charlie bar. And I quite liked the look of one of those female Oompa-Loompas back there. I'll have to ask her back to my room."