Willy Wonka x Reader

Scrub Scrub

(Willy's POV)

     The clock on the mantel strikes six when I enter Mrs. Scrubitt's. Even if I lost all my earnings, at least I got a sovereign to pay for my room. I think back to when I saw that young woman at the Galeries Gourmet. Despite my misfortune, it makes me feel a little proud to know that I was able to impress her.

     "Evening, Mr. Wonka," Mrs. Scrubitt greets me from behind the counter. "How'd it go?"

     "Not quite as well as I'd hoped," I reply.

     "Oh, shame. Well, I'm afraid we do have to settle up now," she says.

     "Well, thankfully, the room's taken care of. I believe we said a sovereign?" I recall as I set my sole silver sovereign on the counter.

     "For the room, yes. But you have incurred a few extras during the course of your residency with us now," she says.

     "Have I?" I ask, confused.

     "Yes, you have," she replies, and opens her ledger holding my bill. "There's that glass of gin you had on arrival. And if I remember rightly, you warmed your cockles by the fire."

     "He did indeed, Mrs. Scrubitt," Bleacher, who is just coming inside, says and closes the doors, locking them.

     "Cockle-warming is extra, see?" Mrs. Scrubitt says.

     "Used the stairs to get to his room in the hallway," Bleacher adds.

     "Oh, then you've got your stair charge, and that is per stair, I'm afraid, up and down," Mrs. Scrubitt says. "Now tell me, Mr. Wonka, did you happen to use the mini-bar?"

     "There's a mini-bar?" I ask.

     I don't remember seeing a mini-bar.

     "Mini-bar of soap," Bleacher points out.

     "By the sink," Mrs. Scrubitt adds.

     "I might have, briefly," I reply.

     "Ooh-hoo!" Bleacher chortles.

     "See, even Bleacher knows you never touch the mini-bar and he was raised in a ditch," Mrs. Scrubitt snorts. "Add in your mattress hire, linen lease, and your pillow penalty and you're looking at. . . ten thousand sovereigns."

     "You gotta be kidding me!" I say.

     "All in the small print, dearie," Mrs. Scrubitt says with a smirk.

     "I don't have ten thousand sovereigns!" I tell her.

     The front doors close, and I look to see Bleacher coming toward me, making me back away.

     "Then we have a problem, Mr. Wonka," he says.

     "You're gonna have to work it off in the Wash House, ain't ya?" Mrs. Scrubitt says.

     I jump a bit when Tiddles barks at me.

     "At a sovereign a day!" Mrs. Scrubitt adds.

     "Ten thousand days?" I question.

     "Twenty-seven years. . ." Mrs. Scrubitt starts.

     "Four months. . ." Bleacher adds and pushes me back.

     "Hey!" I cry out.

     "And sixteen days!" Mrs. Scrubitt finishes.

     And with that, Bleacher pushes me back again, and I yell as I fall down the laundry chute.