life would be sweeter / charlie and the chocolate factory ✔️

5

After the energetic birthday celebration, all the kids were thoroughly tuckered out and had drifted into deep naps in their rooms. It was still afternoon, and I wanted to seize the opportunity to open my presents.

I turned on the TV, and to my surprise, I heard breaking news. This time, I felt grateful because the attitude of the next winner didn't sound appropriate for the little ones to hear.

The reporter announced, "This is just in. The fourth golden ticket has been found by a boy called Mike Teavee."

Then there were gunshots, which were most likely from a video game he was playing at the time. That kid appeared to be focused on his game, and he explained how he got the ticket in a "smart" way.

"All you had to do was track the manufacturing dates, offset by weather and the Nikkei Index derivative; an idiot could figure it out," he said flatly.

"Most of the time, I don't know what he's talking about. Kids these days with all the technology..." The father looked at his son.

"Die! Die! Die!" the boy shouted at his game.

"It doesn't seem like they stay kids very long," he sighed instead.

As he continued to shoot at his opponents, the guns in his game continued to fire. It lasted until he lost, grunting as he set the controller down.

"In the end, I only had to buy one candy bar," he said, looking at the reporters.

"And how did it taste?" one of them asked the boy.

"I don't know. I hate chocolate," he admitted.

I couldn't help but feel that Mike Teavee didn't truly deserve the golden ticket, but I suppose it was just the way things unfolded. I switched off the TV when the reporter began discussing the search for the last golden ticket.

Robert entered the living room, taking a seat beside me while holding a wad of money. He leaned in and said, "(Y/N)? You are going to have one more fling at finding that last ticket. Here's my money." He pressed the dollars into my hands, sealing it with a reassuring gesture.

I hesitated, a mix of gratitude and concern. "Are you certain you want me to spend your money on a chocolate bar, Robert? I don't want to force you, but..."

"Nonsense!" Robert interjected with a confident tone. "I have a strong feeling you'll get that ticket. Just head down to the nearest store, pick up the first Wonka candy bar you lay your eyes on, and come right back. We'll open it together." He fixed me with a determined gaze, his trust unwavering.

Taking Robert's advice to heart, I ventured outside, my scarf keeping me warm as I scoured the local stores. After a few minutes of searching, I rushed back to the orphanage with a Wonka bar in hand.

"Have you got it?" Robert inquired eagerly. He had been waiting for my return in the living room. I took a seat on the couch and placed the bar in the center of the table.

Moments passed, and there we were, just the two of us with an appetizing Wonka bar before us. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation.

Robert broke the silence as he held the bar. "Which end should we open first?"

"Just rip it off like a Band-Aid!" I urged him. He complied, opening the bar, and to our dismay, there was no golden ticket to be found.

"That's alright. Let's enjoy this chocolate bar together." I sighed, preparing to break it into pieces to share. However, Robert stopped me and insisted that I deserved the entire bar.

"You need to stop thinking that you have to help everyone all the time. There are moments when others can handle things on their own. You deserve a little something for yourself. So, take it easy, okay?" Robert wisely advised.