Disclaimer: I don't own the book nor the characters. But for this chapter, I will be adding famous horror movie monsters since Mike is a fan of television and possibly bloodshed. Here it is!

Stuck inside of that precious, mind-numbing and soul-crushing television technology he loved so much, Mike thought so much about the events that transpired prior to him foolishly and impulsively getting himself televised. He cared so much about television and anything related to television as a whole. It's basically the only thing he's ever known. He's learned a lot from watching a screen every hour on the hour and yet, it's not really the healthiest way to learn facts and logic. He's pretty much wasted his life away just sitting around on the floor in front of the TV set, watching those dreaded shows and movies. Why couldn't do something more active and productive like read a book or play hockey outside.

His train of thought made a sudden stop when he noticed that his surroundings had shifted on their own. No longer was he a shrunken boy standing on a newscaster's counter in front of green screen, but now he was inside of a random bedroom big enough for him and he was under the covers of the bed and donning pajamas. Well, utilizing his movie skills and taking a gander of the room, he realized the familiarity of the bedroom he was currently in. A dark, low-pitched sinister cackle echoed all around, making Mike's blood run cold. He noticed, to his horror, hands pushing in through the walls as if they were made of some kind of elastic fabric, accompanied by the collective tortured moans deep within and the one responsible of the evil laughter made its presence known by appearing as a shadow cutting across the walls, holding its clawed hand out dangerously close to Mike's bed. It took a true horror fanatic to finally understand that he was inside A Nightmare on Elm Street and Freddy Krueger was inching ever closer with his trademark claw glove, ready to end the poor boy's life. Staring back was that burnt-skin face that would haunt anyone's nightmares.

"Pleasant dreams, Mike." The dark, bellowing voice of his remarked as he brought his claw down on him as Mike covered himself with the blankets in fear, waiting for his life to end with a suffocating pitch blackness. But it never came and he suddenly found himself falling down to the ground, the bed disappearing. The air was cold and the floor had become a moist land of grass. He sat up to see he was now in an old abandoned campground surrounded by a woodsy landscape in the middle of the dead of night. He was now wearing a camp uniform, covering in dirt and grime for some reason. But he got his answer in form of a shadowy figure whose only became more distinct as he inched closer into the moonlight to reveal a familiar hockey mask on his face and a bloody machete gripped tightly in his hands.

Mike gasped and when Jason Voorhees started for him, he screamed, rushed back to his feet and ran for his life. It was already evident that he was now in one of the Friday the 13th films. Mike ran as fast as his legs could carry in desperate effort to escape the undead, machete-wielding pursuer. Finally, he ducked into one of the cabins and slammed the door behind him, locking it up tight. Though in hindsight, based on his knowledge of the films, Jason has enough strength to break down doors, whatever it takes to reach his victims. And that's exactly what happened. With no weapon to defend himself, Mike backed away into a wall as Jason broke through the wooden door with crazed strength until he was well within the cabin. Mike trembled and shivered as he advanced closer with his machete, before he raised it high above his head, ready to bring it down on the boy's head to finish him off. Mike shielded himself out of instinct, but the entire scene began to shift again. Mike noticed that he was now wearing a skeleton costume and wearing skull face paint and holding a trick-or-treat bucket shaped like a jack-'o-lantern and standing in the hallway of a house.

There was silence now which was broken by the sound of a knife smashing through the door up ahead of him. He jumped back to see a figure dressed in a dark navy blue jumpsuit and a white, emotionless human mask. Now Mike was standing in the Halloween movie and before Michael Myers could reach a hand out to open the door, Mike ran down the stairs and out of the house, down the street.

"Somebody help me!" He screamed helplessly. "Please! Help me! Anybody!"

Mike cursed himself for being stupid to look behind him as he saw the Shape close behind him in a walking pace. Mike believes he'll be able to shake him by cross through the backyards. He entered the backyard of the house where Michael killed his family on that dreaded Halloween night and fell into the empty, leaf-filled pool, seeing that the Shape had easily caught up with him. Michael took slow steps forward toward his next victim as Mike crawled backward only to hit a wall.

"No!" Mike screamed in terror, knowing there was no way to escape now.

"Michael, stop!" said a gentleman's voice behind the Shape, who turned to see his childhood psychiatrist, Dr. Samuel Loomis standing there with a pleading look on his elderly face. "Michael, it's me. Samuel."

But Michael disregards him and continued towards Mike, ready to put him out of his misery while the poor boy screamed for his dear life and the Shape ignoring the orders of Loomis to end his madness.

"Michael, please stop! Stop!" Loomis shouted, drawing a gun and aiming it at Michael's head before pulling the trigger. While Michael took the bullet, he kept going. "Stop, Michael!"

Loomis fired at him a couple more times and the Shape was starting to lose his energy from the gunshots.

"Stop!" screamed Loomis as he fired once more on Michael Myers' head and finally, the silent killer collapsed onto the ground, lifeless.

Although relieved, everything shifted again and he was now standing in some kind of barn. The movie he was inside now was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre since the telltale roar of a chainsaw gave off the position of Leatherface, the killer who lived up to his name. After another minute of being chased and almost dying, Mike was now in a swamp of the movie Hatchet and the deformed ghost of Victor Crowley's voice called out "Daddy!" into the wind as faint as a breeze. That's when the ugly murderer appeared out of nowhere and swung his aze around at Mike, trying to cut his head off before the scene took him to the movie Predator where Mike appeared in a jungle. At first, there was nothing dangerous around, save for the sound of mugs and animals native to the jungle. After Mike had walked a mile through the overcrowded vegetation, the familiar sound of a clicking rested upon his ear, making him freeze dead in his tracks. He kept still for a good few minutes before a trio of red laser lights appeared on his chest, slowly lifting up over his face and stopping at his head. Mike didn't need a verbal sentence to know what was about to happen so he dashed away before a blast shot out from seemingly nowhere and hit the spot where he previously was. The Predator deactivated his cloaking device, making him visible before chasing after the boy, jumping from tree to tree, but as Mike was running, he now found himself in a new setting. A dark and supposedly deserted commercial spaceship of some kind. The starfreighter known as the USCSS Nostromo from the film Alien. It was certainly quiet. Maybe a bit too quiet.

"Hello?" He called. But that was likely a bad move, since there was something on this ship that wasn't human. Mike stopped when a spittle of drool fell from above and onto the floor. Mike dared himself not to look up, but he was compelled to do so anyway. There was the Xenomorph on the ceiling looking down at him before it pounced with it's spine-chilling hiss. Mike run away from the Alien, which galloped after him before finally jumping on his back, pinning him to the floor like a lion would its prey. Mike whimpered as the Xenomorph drooled on him, dangling it's haunting sharp teeth, but before it could drive it's inner jaw through his skull, another scene took place.

Darkness all around there was at first, but then lights were switched on to reveal that Mike was duct-taped to a chair inside some kind of dark room in an undisclosed location somewhere. He tasted blood in his mouth and soon, flags went off in his head, signalling that he had a strange contraption strapped to his head. Mike struggled and fought against his restraints, but the tape was fastened in such a way that it couldn't even tear. He tried to scream, but the device, too, was fastening too impressively on his head that it even covered his mouth. Suddenly, an abrupt sound of static to his side, jerked his attention to a conveniently-placed television set sitting there and it showed a video recording of a haunting ventriloquist puppet that Mike was all too familiar with. That pasty-white skin, red lips, black hair, black suit and bowtie, red spirals on its cheeks and those black eyes with red pupils that almost stared right into your soul. Now it made sense that he was inside a Saw movie. Then the dummy's mouth moved to speak in an deep-pitched voice.

"Hello, Mike." John Kramer (a.k.a. Jigsaw) spoke through the mouth of Billy the Puppet. "You don't know me, but I know you. I want to play a game. Here's what happens if you lose. The device you are wearing is hooked into your upper and lower jaw. When the timer in the back goes off, your mouth will be permanently ripped open. Think of it as a reverse bear trap. Here, I'll show you."

The camera in the video has been directed towards a mannequin wearing the same device Mike is wearing to test it out. First came the sound of ticking that got louder as it picked up the pace before the device suddenly snapped open on the dummy, smashing it to pieces as a result. Mike's muffled screams came outward and his eyes widened with mortal terror.

Jigsaw continued saying, "There is only one key to open the device. It's in the stomach of your dead cellmate. Look around, Mike. Know that I'm not lying."

The captive Mike did as he was told and, to his surprise and horror, there was, in fact, a dead person lying on the ground.

"Better hurry up. Live or die. Make your choice." And then the video ended and the television went off on it's own.

Now Mike hasn't exactly watched the first Saw movie all the way through, but he can already tell that no scarring scene goes unchecked or unseen. Mike went full-on insane as he tried to yank his wrists free of their restraints. It took some time and a lot of massive strength, but thankfully, he finally managed to rip them from the tape and get out of the chair, but in doing so, the timer on the device was simultaneously set off, making the boy's stomach drop and his heart skip beats. The clock was ticking, so Mike had to hurry up or else it's die with a slip-open head. Now the dead cellmate didn't look very dead, so he must've been poisoned or something like that. Mike really didn't want to have to cut him open, but he was in a lesser of two evils situation. Plus, it was his life on the line, so he had no way around this.

Reluctantly and hesitantly, he grabbed a dagger off the floor and held onto his lunch as he raised it high, about to sink it down into his midsection. But before he did, he could've sworn that he saw the man's eyes flutter open. Yeah, he was alive the whole time. Just drugged. But if only Mike realized that sooner before he forced himself to cut his way into his intestines. Now skipping the graphic, gory details, but Mike tried his best not to gag as he finally found the key in his lower intestine. The timer was ticking fast now and Mike had to act quickly or else. After some tries, he fit the key into a lock and at long last, the device fell off of his head right in the nick of time before the timer ended and the device snapped open.

Mike sat there on the floor, panting with a look of indescribable horror on his face, knowing that he just saved himself from death, but at the cost of an unconscious man's life. Mike was so overwhelmed that he screamed at the top of his lungs, observing the blood on his hands. Suddenly, a door opened and riding inside on a small bicycle was Billy the Puppet once again in the same room as Mike and now eyeing him dead in the eye.

"Congratulations." It spoke with Jigsaw's chilling voice. "You are still alive. Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. Not anymore."

Wonka and Charlie finally arrived at the hallway that would lead them to the former's office where they would talk some turkey. When they stepped out, Charlie looked green and about ready to hurl while Wonka was calm and collective since riding on the elevator was nothing new to him.

"Just down this way, my boy. Do try to keep up." said Wonka padding away down the hall with his cane in hand and Charlie following not too far behind. "Because we have so much to discuss."

"Coming, Mr. Wonka." Charlie replied.

They finally arrived at the end of the hallway over to a pair of double doors which Mr. Wonka opened up and entered through with Charlie in tow. It lead into a beautifully-constructed room with a wall full of books, the carpet pattern was a giant swirl with Wonka's desk being in the very center of it all. There was even a large window in which Wonka could oversee the Oompa-Loompas working below.

"So, Mr. Wonka, what exactly did I win from all this?" asked Charlie.

"Well, I'm glad you asked, my friend." Wonka began before turning towards them. "You see, long ago, I realized that I wasn't going to be around forever and I knew marriage wasn't an option. I mean, who'd want to make children with this fine slice, am I right? Anyway, so I needed to search for a heir to look after my factory, my beloved Oompa-Loompa, everything after I was dead and gone. Which is why I sent out the Golden Tickets to look for the perfect child. One that was the least rotten, caring, smart and, above all, selfless. And so, Charlie Bucket, I'm going to give you this entire factory."

"You must be joking." gasped Charlie with bulging eyes, looking at Mr. Wonka as if he had gone bonkers.

"No." Mr. Wonka reassured. "One day when I've passed away, this factory will be all yours so you keep the Wonka name and company alive. You'll be richer will more money than you necessarily needed."

"Why….I really don't know what to say, I mean…...I'm speechless." Charlie stammered, unable to believe that his luck was beginning to turn for the better and yet, here he was standing before his idol, having won the entire popular chocolate factory that has taken the candy world by storm.

"You don't have to say anything. Just listen closely for I'm about to get to the real deal." Mr. Wonka responded with a now serious tone, lacking his usual playful and childlike demeanor for a second before pressing a button on a console on his desk that covered the giant window with blinds. Somehow, Charlie began to feel a bit uneasy by the way Wonka was giving him that eerily-wide grin.

"So, uh, what about the others, Mr. Wonka." Charlie could feel a shake in his voice as he said this. "Will they be okay?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about them at all." Wonka began with a somewhat chilling giggle. "They just got themselves in sticky situations, is all. However, any moment now, those distasteful brats will be nothing more than sample of my new upcoming candies and chocolate bars."

"W-What?!" shrieked Charlie.

"I know, right?" cackled Mr. Wonka as if to tease him. "I've had it all planned out from the moment they first arrived. It could bring store sells to a maximum. The chances are second to none. Just picture it. Wonka's Augustus Gloop Bar or the Everlasting Violet Beauregarde Dinner Gum. Perhaps the Veruca Salt Nut-Flavored Bits. Maybe even some Mike Teavee-Vision Chocolate. Hmm. It's a work-in-progress. I haven't really gotten that far, but we'll try to work on it later on."

"You mean you're actually gonna kill them and turn them into your candies?!" Charlie cried in horror.

"Well, I wouldn't go for the word "kill". It's a bit too spicy and dicy. Let's just say that I'll be "processing" them and manufacturing my candy out of them just to be safe." Mr. Wonka explained with a nonchalant shrug. "Just in all honesty, that's how we do things here in our bigger-than-ever chocolate factory."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Charlie.

"You see, every candy invention that I've conducted in my head isn't exactly all made from just sugar and all that jazz." explained Mr. Wonka. "I have a secret ingredient to every one of my secret candy recipes. And it's called 'the blood of prepubescent children'. It's the only thing that makes my candy empire so delicious and rivaling other candy companies in the world. Because without it, my candy wouldn't sell as much."

"You mean that all this time, we've been eating candy made from people?!" Charlie screamed, even more horrified.

"I suppose so." Mr. Wonka replied with a shit-eating grin. "But what difference does it make, anyway? Those brats aren't worth saving or mourning over anyway. They're selfish, greedy and have no regard for others' feelings. It won't matter anyway. They don't deserve to live any longer."

"And…...what will be my role in all that?" Charlie fearfully asked.

"I assure you, my dear boy, you won't be a part of "processing" any of those brats." Mr. Wonka said, walking up behind the boy and placing gentle hands on his shoulders to comfort him. "You will, however, offer me your opinions on what delicious flavors to give them and design the wrappings and such they will be placed in. And don't worry, everything will make more sense in the future and it'll be all worth your while."

"I…...I-I-I don't know." Charlie whimpered, scarred with such a shocking revelation. "I just don't r-really know."

"Give it some time, Charlie." Mr. Wonka said before turning his back to him. "But just know that in a few hours, those naughty, naughty, naughty little children will be nothing more than delectable confectionary that the entire world will enjoy. Oh, I can almost taste it now. The world will love us. Wouldn't you-?"

But when Wonka turned back around to face Charlie once more, he was no longer standing there. Confused and gobsmacked, he darted his head all around to see where the boy could have disappeared to in so little time. But he was nowhere in sight. But then, he noticed that the doorway to his office has been flung open and slowly closing on it's own. Words could not describe the chocolatier's rage when he distinctly discerned the fleeing form of Charlie, hightailing down the hallway in terror. Wonka's face morphed into a furious glare of burning rage at seeing that Charlie stole the opportunity to escape with his life when his back was turned.

"Get him!" screamed Mr. Wonka with such haunting fury that would frighten the wits out of anyone. The Oompa-Loompas standing outside of his office over his roaring demand and took off running after Charlie to get him back.

As the poor boy was racing toward the elevator, he thought about the terrifying truth behind the man that the entire world knew and loved. Yes, his hunch was proven correct, but in the very worst way possible. It turned out that Mr. Willy Wonka, was, in fact, a serial killer. He would lure children to his factory to kill them and make them into his candy that the whole world was eating. It was disgusting to even think about. Charlie just couldn't believe that after all this time, Mr. Wonka was not the man he knew him as. But how was he going to explain this to his father and grandfather if he ever saw them again?

But what mattered right now was getting far away from Mr. Wonka and hopefully try to rejoin the adults and get the hell out of the factory while he still can. But first he needed to make a stop to the Television Chocolate room and see if he can help Mike out of his shrunken situation. After finally making it to the Glass Elevator, he rushed inside and the doors closed, but he could see the Oompa-Loompas fast approaching. Quickly, Charlie searched for the button to where he needed to go and pressed just in the nick of time before the tiny pygmies had the time to stop him.

The elevator darted away, carrying Charlie with it all the way to the Television Chocolate room. Despite the speed, he tried to keep his balance and hold on tight as the fast-acting contraption directed him all around the recesses of the factory. All the while, he was wondering how his father, Grandpa Joe and the adults were doing on their own tour.

Oh, no! Charlie has found out the shocking truth about his and everyone's favorite chocolatier. But the real question is "How is he and the other kids going to escape the factory?" Well, that is on a need-to-know basis and it to be revealed in the future. But for right now, I thank you for your patience. It means a lot to me. It's hard to write stories when there is so many of them to complete. You know what I mean? Stay tuned for the next chapters.