Charlie Bucket’s Grandparents All Lived In The Same Bed So You Know Their Duvet Was Just Saturated With Farts

I’m not going to waste time on this one: while I was home for Christmas I re-watched 1971’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, starring Gene Wilder (R.I.P.). What struck me most about the film during this viewing was the fact that Charlie Bucket’s grandparents all spend their days lying in a massive bed together, and up until this point I’d never realized how fully saturated with farts their duvet must be.

Here are the facts:
• Old people fart a lot
• The Bucket’s diet was approximately 100% boiled cabbage (probably)
• Boiled cabbage makes you fart a lot (unconfirmed, I don’t eat cabbage and don’t associate with anyone who does)
• Their duvet looks really thick, and thus could hold a lot of farts

The implications of this are manifold: did Charlie’s father run out on his mother because he couldn’t deal with the shame of his parents and parents-in-law’s awful flatulence-riddled duvet? Was Grandpa Joe really so excited by Charlie’s winning the golden ticket that he was miraculously healed, or are we seeing the last desperate spasms of energy from a man with no desire to live out the rest of his meager days in a fart-filled straw bed with three other elderly people? Do you think Willy Wonka could smell the farts on Charlie and Grandpa Joe?

Additionally, I’d like to take a moment to imagine the cleaning protocol poor Mrs. Bucket has for the duvet, now that we’ve established beyond a shadow of a doubt that 1.) Charlie’s grandparents just couldn’t stop blasting ass all day in that terrible bed they all shared together and 2.) probably made the whole block smell like rotten eggs, which really drove down property values for the neighborhood. I’m sure some people will insist that Mrs. Bucket was unselfish and full of love and probably cleaned that smelly duvet every week like clockwork in between working the three thankless jobs jobs she needed to in order to keep her son in school and boiled cabbage on the dinner table.

I however, believe that there are limits to familial love, and she probably put it off as much as she could in order to avoid the full brunt of whatever fetid war crimes came squeaking out of those dusty asses nigh-constantly. I’m confident saying that I think Mrs. Bucket probably only cleaned that duvet when the smell around the apartment became unbearable and there wasn’t any recourse save faking her own death and moving to Bosnia under an assumed name and a temporary visa.

I can only hope that once Charlie managed to inherit Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, he bought each of his terrible grandparents their own bed that they could absolutely demolish with gas to their heart’s content, but I have to imagine this would make their monthly, all-grandparent fuckfest extremely hard to coordinate, which is really a shame because everyone deserves to let their freak flag fly during their twilight years.

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