Not far from Puffin’s home, only a short waddle across a
busy road and up a small hill, it loomed large and bright. An enormous,
gigantuous, humungous purple-wrappered Wonka Bar – with a glint of a golden
ticket just poking out of the corner. It was Puffin’s first visit to the
Theatre, and he was going to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
Puffin had always loved the tale of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Settling into a plush velvet
seat that was far too big, clutching his copy of one of his favourite Roald
Dahl stories, his lifted his beak to survey the rows of seats that reached up
to the ceiling, and the hundreds of children swarming into the theatre,
escaping the grasp of their parents, sensing more than any grown up could that
there was magic in the air.
”I wonder when we’ll see Wonka?”, Puffin thought, taking a
nibble of his chocolate bar. Before Puffin could wonder any further, the lights
dimmed and silence fell over the auditorium. The show was about to begin.
The first act passed in a whirlwind of whizz-popping sound,
bombastic dancing, shrill and soaring singing and toe-tapping body-thumping
music. It was a whirlwind of cowering parents, buckets of Buckets, choco-mania
and expertly disgusting children. Puffin felt awfully sorry for skinny little
Charlie Bucket, and tried in vain to give him his chocolate bar that he’d
brought along as a snack, nudging it with his flipper, until rather unfortunately it fell into the orchestra pit.
Puffin didn’t have to wait long until his hero appeared.
There, against the backdrop of the factory’s windows, alight and blinking,
stood Wonka! Top hat proudly atop his head, vividly dressed in his purple velvet
coat and jade green suit. Puffin was thrilled to see the figment of his
imagination strutting, stalking and even skating around the stage.
Too soon it was all over, and Puffin hopped off his seat and
bid the Puffin team goodbye , his mind full of the magical Glass Elevator and
the super fluffy Squirrels who could detect the Bad Nuts.
Snuggled safe back in his burrow, Puffin opened his copy of
Roald Dahl’s Charlie, to return to a version of the story that he knew and
loved so well; unfolding, before him, in his Puffin paperback.
Puffin
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