CATCF musical stories

Mike Teavee

Doris Teavee sat at the table. She stared at the table. There he was. Her son. Currently standing on the table at a measly 5 inches tall (in which that was what she assumed). He looked so… Little. His tiny face was drawn into a big frown. He looked fairly angry. He hadn't said a word since they had left the factory. She understood why. 

"Mikey…" Her voice trailed off. The tiny boy just stared. He looked very bored. Of course he was. Now that he was this size, he couldn't do anything. No lighting the cat on fire. No stealing tanks. No smoking. Nothing. His tiny face looked in many directions in order to find something to do. His face then drew itself back into the frown that was pasted on earlier. Doris felt terrible. She felt terrible that she was happy about this. All the years of struggling. Finally she could have the freedom. Finally… 

Mike let out a squeak. Doris turned to look at the boy but he was not there. She then felt a small tug on her sleeve. She almost threw her hand up, but she was glad she didn't. There stood Mike. He let out another few squeaks. Too bad she couldn't understand him. 

There was silence. Mike realized from his mother's expression exactly what she was thinking. There's no way she could understand the incoherent mutters and squeaks that this tiny kid was spewing out. He shook his head quickly and pointed at the plates stacked by the sink. Doris then realized he was probably referring to food.

"Mikey… Do you want food?" Doris asked. Mike smiled and nodded his head multiple times. That celebratory response was quickly gone as he realized that he shouldn't be showing happiness towards his mother right away. 

The tiny boy went back to crossing his arms as Doris went to make the boy something to eat. What exactly do you cook for such a tiny boy… Maybe… cook for herself and give him a tiny portion? That could work. 

As his mother began to cook, Mike just stood at the table with a deep frown on his face. He had wished he hadn't taken the stupid jacket off on the boat. He'd still have his phone if he didn't. He'd be able to actually do something! His thoughts were whirling around. This is why his parents think he has ADHD. Or Autism. He wasn't exactly paying attention.

He turned to watch his mother cook. He felt so useless. Usually he could yell, shout, tell his mother what he needed but like this… It was practically impossible. To himself, he sounded like a mouse or chipmunk on helium. Made sense though. He WAS tiny now, which added to his anger. 

He noticed his orange jacket hung on the chair. Hey…! His phone was probably in one of the pockets! He quickly ran towards the end of the table. "Shit.." He mumbled, cringing at his voice. He could try to… Just jump. C'mon. Mike slowly backed away before finally sprinting. He jumped right at the edge of the pocket and practically held on for dear life. 

"HELP ME!!" he screamed. His mother couldn't hear him. So he was dangling. He could probably die right now. Let go and plummet to an embarrassing death. Great. The boy wasn't strong. He had a strong grip but his arms were giving out. 

"Okay ho-'' His mother's voice trailed off before she screamed, possibly seeing her son dangling off a jacket. She sprang into action, running to the jacket to grab her son. Thankfully, she did. She grabbed him before he fell. "Poor thing…" He heard her say. He was cupped in her fingers, which made the boy want to cry. "Why would you-" Her voice wobbled and she turned to the jacket as the tiny boy only pointed at it. 

She walked to it and picked it up, peering inside his pockets. There it was. His phone! She grabbed the phone and placed her son back onto the table. She placed the phone next to him. 

"No TV though." She said in a serious tone before she went back to her cooking.

Mike nodded and turned on the phone (and struggled doing so through his size). He noticed missed calls from two different numbers. Ugh. Mike sighed and answered the call, before realizing he probably shouldn't have done that. At all. 

Before he could end the call, he heard a very familiar voice on the other end. "Mike? Hello? Is this Mike?" The voice was high. It was also British. Mike's mouth hung open. "Charlie?" He answered back excitedly. "Oh my god! It really is you!" Charlie's voice exclaimed. There was an awkward pause. "I… Felt bad after what happened at the factory. Are you okay?" He asked. Mike turned to see his mother working on the food. 

"Still small." He mumbled quietly. Charlie let out a chuckle. "I can tell. Your voice." He said. "Shut up!" Mike hissed. He was self conscious about his current voice.

"Sorry, sorry." The boy answered. Mike could hear some sounds in the background. "What are you doing?" He asked curiously. He could hear a grunt come out of Charlie from the other line. "Working with… Wonka." He replied a bit late. "Wonka?" Mike had blurted out. His mother turned his way for a split second before going back to her cooking. 

"Yeah. Wanted to check on you. Y'know… After what happened on the tour?" Mike heard Charlie's voice crack. 

A thought then entered Mike's brain. A cruel thought. Something he wished he didn't think of. 

"The rest of them are dead, right?" He heard himself ask. There was silence on the other line. "Yeah." A different voice said. It sounded high and childlike but more feminine. Mike recognized the voice immediately. 

"Veruca?" He asked. Suddenly he felt embarrassed. "Yep! Also, what's wrong with your voice?" He heard her ask. "Why aren't you dead?" Mike quickly replied. This statement probably offended her. 

"Because I got fixed." She stated. She sighed. "You should come over though. Wonka's letting us stay here as a sign of sorrow! All of us!" Her voice sounded excited. He then heard Charlie's voice talking to someone else in the background. 

"Are… All of you there?" Mike asked. Veruca let out a small giggle. "You bet we are!" She exclaimed. 

Mike turned to see his mother. She seemed to be almost done with cooking. Mike just stared at the phone before ultimately ending the call. Maybe he could somehow ask his mom? He knew she couldn't hear him at all. Maybe… Pencil and paper? He was still debating on that action though. On one hand, if he didn't go, his mother would act like he was a baby forever, while on the other hand if he did go, he'd be deeply embarrassed by the fact that he was only a few inches tall AND he knew Veruca and Violet would never let him live it down. 

But… he did wanna see them again. He felt that even though they were bratty… like him, they understood him. Even Charlie. Yep. He knew what he was gonna do tonight. 

Mike let himself think about these thoughts as his mother brought him a small portion of her food.