I’ve Got A Lazy Grandpa

I got your everlasting gobstopper right here

When I was just an impressionable young lad one of my favorite movies was Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory starring the phenomenal Gene Wilder. Not the remake called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory starring the phenomenal Johnny Depp. Or Little Eddie Scissorhands as I call him, because he doesn’t know me so he can’t tell me to stop. Take that J-Depp… Although his lawyers did send me something called a “cease and desist” letter. I’ll have to google that later and find out what that’s all about. I probably won a contest or something.

I don’t know how many times I’ve watched Willy Wonka over the course of 41 years, but I know it’s definitely more than twice. For anybody that hasn’t seen it, why? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you like sweets? Aren’t you a fan of tripping your balls off? Do you not care for orange midget’s dressed identically and singing silly songs about the untimely demise of little ungrateful bitch-bastard children? Well you should. Because make no mistake about it, they deserved what they got. Especially that Veruca Salt chick.

Charlie Bucket lived with his parents and all four of his grandparents in a decrepit shack. His mother worked washing other people’s dirty clothes with one of those washboards that only exist in museums and in hillbilly bands where they are accompanied by a one-stringed washtub bass and someone blowing into a moonshine jug, . His father has been laid off from his job at the toothpaste factory. Which is odd because their sales numbers had been steadily improving over the last seven straight fiscal quarters, and there was talk in the break room that the toothpaste factory was going to be expanding into the mouthwash side of the preventative dental care racket. Possibly even dental floss, but that was apparently just wishful thinking. Oh, if only the kids weren’t so in love with gingivitis.

His grandparents had been bed-ridden for 20 some odd years. In the same bed, all together. It was weird, and gross and kind of sexy, if your into handicapped handi-capable geriatric group gropes. Hey, I’m not judging you, you fucking creep. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this game called life, it takes different strokes to move the world, yes it does, it takes different strokes to move the woooorld.

But Charlies ancestors were really old and feeble, and they depended on Baby Boy Bucket for all of their daily needs. Charlie loved his grandparents but he loved Grandpa Joe the most. Every night after Charlie had finished his numerous chores such as washing the dish, sweeping the dirt floor and changing four shitty bedpans , Grandpa Joe would tell him a story. Charlie loved these stories, but he loved to hear all about Willy Wonka’s magical chocolate factory in particular.

Grandpa Joe once worked for Wonka before some kind of crazy shit went down somewheres, and Wonka threw everyone out and locked the doors. Or at least that’s Joes story. Word on the street is that he got shit-canned for shooting dope on his lunch break and then eating an entire case of Wonka Bars in the mens bathroom. One of the Oompa Loompas found him passed out in a puddle of his own sick. When he came to he violently assaulted the Loompa who revived him, he had to be physically restrained.

Do you know how many Oompa Loompas it takes to physically restrain a normal sized person? Dozens. It’s actually quite horrifying and comical. Luckily for Gramps he didn’t get sued. That was partly because Mr. Wonka intervened and paid the little guy off, but mostly because it would be hard to find an unbiased jury when no one believes in Oompa Loompas.

When Willy Wonka announces his golden ticket promotion to the world it causes widespread pandemonium. Candy shops across the globe are inundated with crazed pre-diabetic children wildly grabbing for all the sweets they could find. Spending untold amounts of currency on chocolate bars and other assorted treats. Supply can’t keep up with demand. There were riots as angry customers were turned away empty-handed.

Charlie lacked the financial resources to be considered a real player in the high stakes world of international candy contests. He got an occasional Wonka Bar from his family for his birthday. His birthday present was a fucking candy bar. Thanks guys. Hey, for Christmas could you put me up for adoption?

One time he found a silver coin in a gutter and splurged on two Scrumdiddlyumtious bars in a last-ditch effort to cash in on Willy Wonka’s dementia. He opened the last bar and saw the glint of sweet victory winking back at him. He ran straight home and didn’t stop ’til he got there.

He told his family of his good fortune, and Grampa Joe got up and danced. What the fuck is that shit?

“I’ve been waiting on you hand and foot my whole life because of your inability to even make it out of bed to use the bathroom, now you’re the fucking Lord of the Dance because you get to go see how candy is made? You have tricked me for the last time old man. Not only am I not taking you to Candyland, but you better get your ass out on the street and find yourself a job.”

‘Cause we broke as a joke up in this bitch ever since all the toothpaste money dried up.