Escape From The Factory: The Donald Trump Origin Story

The swings of the pickaxes echo through the mine, with each thud another chunk of chocolate falls. Over and over pieces are chiseled out of the side of the cavern then placed into carts on their way up the shaft to be melted into the river in the factory.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, one Oompa sighs in disappointment, for he feels that he was meant for something greater than this.

Oompa, Loompa Doopa-dee-doo
I've got another piece of chocolate for you.

"Oh great, here comes the singing again," the young Oompa huffed. This particular Oompa had problems remembering the words.

He stares at the chocolate wall before him. The smell of cocoa burns his nostrils as it reminds him of the mundane task ahead. One day I'll make it of these mines and make my way to an office in the factory, he thought to himself as he knocked kisses from the facade. He scoops the menial production in his tiny hands and tosses them into the railcar.

TOOT! TOOT!

The bell sounds and releases the Oompas from the day's work. The little angry Oompa throws down his tools and runs to the covfefe, his only escape from this brown dungeon. A line had already begun to form and the covfefe was full. Ugh, why is there only one of these contraptions? Impatient, he pushes himself to the front of the line to catch the next trip to the pristine white factory above.

Once at the ground floor, the Oompa wastes no time and shoves his way out of the covfefe. If he hurries, he could still catch the boss in the candy garden. His little feet carry him as fast as they can go, but his lackadaisical effort in the mines has left him quite out of shape. He sees the outline of the thin proprietor's top hat making its way to the off-limits door. He huffs across the bridge and puffs up the stairs in pursuit.

"Mr. Wonka! Wait, huh, huh, huh. Mr. huh, huh, Wonka!" he shouts through breaths.

A slim arm stretches out the elevator and the doors remain open. With a puzzled expression, the Candy Man inquires, "Oh peculiar Oompa Loompa who bellows so, what can I do for you?"

"Well sir, I'd like to go over some ideas I had on how this factory could be full of money."

"But if it was full of money, where would the candy go?"

The Oompa grimaces at Willy's twist of words. "I'm talking about making this the most profitable and powerful company the world has ever seen. All we need to do is make a few changes."

"Oh, and what kind of changes would those be?"

"Well for instance, if we started adding water to the chocolate river than we could double production, maybe even triple it."

"But then it wouldn't be chocolate anymore, would it?"

"Ugh, of course it would be. And with your brand people would buy it anyways."

"Little Oompa, a name is useless if there is no merit behind it. Nothing leaves this factory unless it has reached the apogee of its flavor cycle. Diluted chocolate will never have the opportunity to reach the cocoa's true taste potential."

"But think of the money you could make. You could be a powerful man."

"True power does not come from money and greed. The caterpillar that eats the entire plant has nowhere to become a butterfly."

The elevator closes in front of the annoyed Oompa Loompa and the off-limits door slams itself shut. The Oompa snatches it back open but is met by a brick wall in a concrete building.

"He will never understand. I'll show him, just watch."

Day after day the indignant little man rides the covfefe to the mine and hacks away at the chocolate that he hates so passionately, all the while plotting his escape to a world that appreciates his vision. Months pass as he continues in this fuming scheme hatching, each night running his new plot by his timid roommate.

"What if I..."

"Well... you know there's just one problem with that..."

This back and forth was the sole conversation in the two Oompa Loompas' room as each strategy proved to have a vital hole in it. Then it hit him.

"I have it!"

"You say that every day."

"But this time I truly have the perfect plan. When the golden ticket winners arrive, old Willy will be distracted giving them the tour. When he calls for an Oompa Loompa, you will come and I'll sneak behind him and take his keys out of his pocket."

The shy Oompa implores from his alpha roommate, "What will you do with the keys?"

"While he is finishing his tour, we will go into his office and steal the recipe for the new Starburst candy that he just invented. Then we will sell it to his competitors."

"I don't know. It sounds risky."

"Trust me, I'm going to take us places."

The day for the golden ticket visitors finally came and the Oompas were ready to carry out their plan.

While the rest of the Oompa Loompa miners were entering the covfefe to go down to the chocolate caverns, the two bandits slink off and make their way to the candy garden to await the tourists. They find a place to hide on the rocks overlooking the chocolate river.

"From here we can keep an eye on the group and then we'll follow close behind so we're the first Oompas to answer his call," the scorned Oompa declares through a sinister grin. "Look there they are!"

The delighted group runs in all directions tasting the delights that make up the wonderous garden. The portly child makes his way to the river and begins to scoop handfuls of liquid chocolate down his throat.

"How can he enjoy that when there are much better candies all around him. I will never understand how anyone can like that horrible brown mush. How do they even tell it apart from feces? They smell the same to me."

"I quite like chocolate," retorts the accomplice Oompa.

"Oh no, you have just been tricked into thinking that you do from fake stories the Oompas tell of how chocolate is delicious. I know for a fact that it actually tastes awful. I've discussed it with experts."

"Look the boy fell in and is now stuck in the tube!"

"We missed our chance. It's ok, we'll be there for the next one. These kids look quite dumb, it's just a matter of time until another one does something stupid and Wonka will need us to clean up the mess for him. They're leaving, let's go."

The two sidle along the edge and pass through the garden behind the group evading over the shoulder glances.

"They're heading to the invention room. It will be easy to get close without being noticed in there."

They enter and quickly find a station to pretend to work. As the group moves through the room, the two Oompas rotate areas mixing the wrong ingredients into the wrong machines.

"Ok he put a clock in there so time must be the secret ingredient. Toss in your watch."

The accomplice unfastened his WonkaWatch and hesitantly lowered it into the bubbles. They walk away and move to a machine closer to Willy.

"Did you see that he through a shoe in that one. Take off one of your shoes and put it in there."

"But won't Mr. Wonka notice that I don't have a shoe when I go up to him?" the timid assistant replies.

"Good point. Then your socks. Yes, they smell like shoes they should work fine."

The Oompa slips off his chocolate brown shoes and removes his striped stockings of the same color. The obdurate little man pinches and releases the foot apparel into the vat. A miscolored bubble rises to the top and emits a pungent stench as it bursts.

The other Oompa Loompas frantically run around behind them cleaning up the bubbly suds and goopy globs and spraying streams. The two don't even notice, their eyes are glued to Willy Wonka in anticipation of his flute making an appearance.

The tour wanders to a machine with pans slamming, tomatoes roasting, food liquifying, tubes pumping in a planned madness of order. One of the children snatches the product from Mr. Wonka's finger tips and pops it into her mouth. The crowd moves as she begins to expand into a juicy fruit.

The two get into position to be the first Oompas to Willy's side. The badgering from the father eventually compels Wonka to pull out the flute. Within seconds of the last note the subordinate Oompa is there to take orders. He keeps an austere expression as he hunches his shoulders to force Wonka to lean further down to give his commands. The conspiring leader easily picks the keys out of Willy's right pocket.

The pair joins the Oompa Loompas in rolling the ripe blueberry person out the door to the juicer, taking up the rear. As she picks up speed, they begin to lag behind and cut down the first hall in the direction of Willy's workspace.

They burst into the office and pounce on the drawers of Willy Wonka's half-desk. They pull open the top drawer and see the private lockbox. They jam the key and fling open the top. The pink Starburst folder shined the brightest of the invention tabs. The greedy Oompa grabs his prize. The thieves jump in delight with the rose folder clasped in their hands.

With their stolen treasure secured, the crooked duo make their escape from the factory. They are met with gawking pedestrians in every direction.

"I guess they've never seen an Oompa Loompa before. No matter, once we sell the recipe, their stares will be in envy of our massive wealth and power." His sidekick nods in agreement.

The greedy little Oompa's eyes fixate on the pink ticket to his dreams clenched tightly in his tiny palms. This folder is the key to the kingdom he desires. His daydream is abruptly brought to a halt as his body bounces backward and the folder goes flying into the air. He scrambles to pick up the pieces of paper jarred loose from the collision, not noticing that the man who he ran into was assisting in the collecting.

"Hmm, what's this?" the tall American man ponders aloud as he scans the top page from the pile he gathered.

The little Oompa jumps in an attempt to snatch his secret from the stranger, "None of your business mister."

"Oh, to the contrary my undersized friend. I believe business is exactly what we have in our future."

The Oompas furrow their brows but give the man a chance to explain himself.

"Come with me, my hotel is just here. We have much to discuss."

The two follow the stranger still holding their future in his hands into the hotel lobby and up the elevator to his room. Subordination to cocksure figures had not completely dissipated with their rebellion.

"My name is Frederick C. Trump and I believe I can help you two out. Let me guess, you stole this recipe from Wonka and are looking to sell it to a rival for a great sum. Uh-hmm as I thought. Well that might be difficult looking so different, no offense of course. But here's the deal. I know exactly where we can sell this and with the money you can do whatever you please. What is it that you want this money for?"

The diabolical Oompa grins, "I'm going to prove to Mr. Wonka he should have listened to me by becoming the most powerful man in the world."

"Ah, an ambitious one you are. Well first things first we need to make you look like us. Wait here for a bit, I have an idea."

The tall business man leaves the room with determination in his eyes. A couple hours later he returns carrying a box. He opens the lid and pulls out a bottle of bleach and tosses it to the assistant Oompa.

"People don't have green hair. You need to pour this on your head until it looks more human."

The Oompa Loompas take the bottle into the bathroom. The leader Oompa leans his head over the edge of the tub, his colleague begins pouring the bleach into his thick green hair. He grabs the bottle with both hands and tips it upside down letting the bleach flow unobstructed. The Oompa's hair starts losing color and volume. His companion lets every drop fall from the container then gives the hair a quick rinse. The Oompa lifts his head from the tub.

"Give me a boost to the mirror will you, I want to see what it looks like." His friend gives him a distressed look but complies. The solid green hair was now brittle thin strands of blonde. He swooshes it over and shrugs to his comrade who replies, "I think it looks quite natural."

They walk back out into the room where the businessman was busy laying out a suit on the bed. "This will make you look more professional, I had it altered so that you could wear it while sitting on your compatriot's shoulders."

The two fumble into the modified clothing. The top Oompa pulls his arms through the sleeves, his tiny hands engulfed by the cuffs. No one will notice, he thought to himself.

"Alright all you need now is a new name," the capitalist declares. "I've decided the easiest way to pass you off as an American is to give you my name. So for now on you will be Donald Trump."

"Donald Trump... hmm I like it."

The businessman chuckles, "Hopefully some time in the US will help with that ridiculous accent. Oh, that reminds me. You won't exactly be a citizen, so remember you need to avoid paying taxes or anything to do with the legal system. Don't worry, we will set you up with competent lawyers to handle any of that. People won't really question the Trump name anyways."

The newly named Oompa smiles and nods in amusement at his fresh identity.

"How about some chocolate to celebrate this new beginning?"

A voice rebuts out of the crotch, "Pardon sir, but he, I mean Donald, detests chocolate... well actually he hates anything that is brown."

"He'll fit in perfectly with my circle."