Willy Wonka x Reader

The Oompa-Loompa

(???'s POV)

I move stealthily through the city in the dead of night, and I make it to the laundry house that Wonka man is at. I fire a grappling hook at his window ledge, and I shimmy up to the window. I slip through the bars, unlock the window, and carefully open it, so as not to wake the man up. I see a jar of his chocolate on the other side of his room and creep inside, careful not to make a sound. I am halfway there to the jar when the man starts to move in his bed, and I quickly hide. Thankfully, he doesn't wake up, and I continue creeping toward the jar. I chuckle as I reach out to grab it, but then I gasp when I feel a floorboard beneath me shift. There is a clicking sound, and I yell when I'm suddenly flung across the room and into a funnel which deposits me into a jar that's just my size! A lid is placed on top of the jar, trapping me inside.

(Willy's POV)

I open my eyes when I hear my trap activate. I hear the little orange man yell as he slides down the funnel and into the jar.

     "Gotcha!" I shout triumphantly.

     "What the devil? Let me out of here! I demand to be released!" he shouts from within the jar.

     I get out of bed and pick up the jar, carefully turning it over so the little orange man is standing upright.

     "Incredible! It can speak!" I say.

     "Well, of course I can speak! Now let me out of here or I shall shriek! Let me out!" he demands.

     "Not until I get a good look at you," I say.

     I set the jar down on my desk, and I switch on the light, giving myself a good look at the little man. He does have orange skin and green hair, but he also has blue eyes, white eyebrows, and is wearing regular human-like clothing.

"Good evening," he says.

"So you're the funny little man that's been following me," I say.

"Funny little man?! How dare you! I will have you know that I am a perfectly respectable size for an Oompa-Loompa," he responds.

"An Oompa what now?" I ask.

"In fact, in Loompaland, I am regarded as something of a whopper. They call me Lofty," he continues. "So I will thank you to stop gawping at me as though I was something unpleasant you'd found in your handkerchief. I find it uncomfortable and frankly rude."

"Sorry," I apologize.

     "Now let me out of here. You have absolutely no right to go around embottling innocent strangers," Lofty says, elbowing the glass.

     "Innocent? Hold on. You've been stealing from me for years!" I point out.

     "Well, you've started it!" he retorts.

     "Me?" I ask, confused at how I could've started this.

     "You stole our cocoa beans!" he replies.

     "What are you talking about?" I ask, still not understanding.

     Lofty looks at me with confusion.

     "Do you mean that you don't even remember?" he asks.

     "Remember what?!" I ask.

     "The day you. . ." he pauses to place a hand on his heart, looking like he's about to cry. ". . . destroyed my life."

"No, I don't remember that," I tell him.

He pulls out a piccolo and a thin tube brush from inside his coat.