prompt: return, title: the candyman could in misc. flash fiction

It was the most exciting day of Charlie Bucket’s life. Of course it was. Growing up poor as dirt, barely having his own surname’s sake to relieve himself in, winning The Golden Ticket contest from The Wonka Company was nearly beyond Charlie’s youthful imaginings. A trip behind the walls of the biggest mystery around as well as candy candy candy. All of the goddamned candy.

It seemed like it was the most exciting day of his Grandpa Joe’s life, as well, near the end of his life of grim toil and then an early retirement for medical reasons. To escape the dreariness of his poverty and fading days, for one grand adventure with his grand-son, an audience with the most amazing recluse in the world. A smile for that poor kid’s face, for once and candy candy candy.

Bursting in upon his family with the amazing news and the invite for his debilitated grandfather as well, Grandpa Joe was so moved that he rose out from his bed for the first significant time in fifteen years! Despite his weakness and his suffering, he hopped up, spry as rabbit in July, even kicking feet together in mid-air like a schoolboy! Miracles, adventures and candy candy candy!

“I’ve got a Golden Ticket!” Charlie sang. “We’ve got a Golden Ticket!” Grandpa Joe refrained. “You have nothing, Joseph Gordon Bucket,” exclaimed the dark shape quickly moving through their front door, toward Grandpa Joe, “except this warrant for your arrest!” “On what charges?” he asked too quickly, as if he knew he’d have to ask that someday, “Insurance fraud, insurance fraud and also insurance fraud!” Everything stopped. Grandpa’s eyes couldn’t even twitch and then he bolted toward the shack’s back hatch, quickly smothered by a group of even more dark shadows coming in the other direction. Grandpa Joe finally went limp, with relief. It was over.

It was all a charade, a sting to draw Grandpa Joe out into admitting he’d never been injured at all, that he started faking it out of sheer laziness a life-time ago and got so caught up in it that Joseph scammed permanent disability payments out of it. When the rest of the family were all sleeping together in just one bed, Joe was sleeping with the best prostitutes in all of London in the worst motels in all of London. Wonka’s holdings included that insurance company and the Joseph Bucket Problem, of the obvious fake who left zero evidence, got all the way to the top.

William Wonka was a powerful man and an extravagant man, but above all Willy was a truly vindictive bastard. The return of the money was not the point, rather the audacity of the slight. The ads, the news reports, all of it, all the other winners, mere actors, all to entrap a notorious con-man through his weakness for his grandson. Years later in prison, an interview asked him how he faked that for so long. “Pure imagination,” Joe muttered ruefully, “pure imagination.”