Charlie and the Chocolate Factory... of DEATH!

Today I went and saw my old schools yearly play: Charlie and the Chocolate factory. It wasn't too bad, especially with my good freind levi as Wonka, prancing around, waving his hands and shouting "LOOK AT MY PIPES!" whenever he forgot his lines. I really want to re-read the book now, just to see if there really was all that sexual inuendo in Roll Dhals book (I dod know how to spell his name, ok?) or weather it was just a product of my deseased mind.

What was a product of my deseased mind, however, are my thoughts that the play would be much better as a grizly gothic fairy-tale. When Augustus Gloop gets sucked into the chocolate pipes, there shopuld be bits of body that travel through the glass pipes behind Wonka as he reassures Gloops parents. When Veruca Salt demands that she wants everything, Wonka should stap her and throw her to the minature squrilles who, excited by the blood, devour her with the efficency of a wood-chipper. And the reason that no-one sees the workers of the Wonka factory should be because they are all vampires.

And Wonka should not be one vowel change away from wanka. It is just too easy to slip up while typing.

Tommorow I have to work. I am to help a family freind with the lifting of things. This will be the first time that I have done and paid labor for the better part of a year. I wonder if it will be as horrible as I imagine. All the lifting, the sweat, the money... money... sweet, sweet money....
Hmmm.

Do you know whats better than milk chocolate? Not having life threatning diabetes.


"Come Chalie, help me run my factory. You'll help buy polishing my pipes. Or there might even be a job opening in the packhouse of... fizzing wizbies."