Чарли и шоколадная фабрика
What It Said on the Golden Ticket
Thecolourwasrushingtohischeeks,andhiseyeswerewideopen,shiningwithjoy,andinthecentreofeacheye,rightintheverycentre,intheblackpupil,alittlesparkofwildexcitementwasslowlydancing. Thentheoldmantookadeepbreath,andsuddenly,withnowarningwhatsoever,anexplosionseemedtotakeplaceinsidehim.Hethrewuphisarmsandyelled’Yippeeeeeeee!’ Andatthesametime,hislongbonybodyroseupoutofthebedandhisbowlofsoupwentflyingintothefaceofGrandmaJosephine,andinonefantasticleap,thisoldfellowofninety-sixandahalf, whohadn’tbeenoutofbedtheselasttwentyyears,jumpedontothefloorandstarteddoingadanceofvictoryinhispyjamas.
’Yippeeeeeeeeee!’heshouted.’ThreecheersforCharlie!Hip,hip,hooray!’
Atthispoint,thedooropened,andMrBucketwalkedintotheroom.Hewascoldandtired,andhelookedit.Alldaylong,hehadbeenshovellingsnowinthestreets.
’Cripes!’hecried.’What’sgoingoninhere?’
Itdidn’ttakethemlongtotellhimwhathadhappened.
’Idon’tbelieveit!’hesaid.’It’snotpossible.’
’Showhimtheticket,Charlie!’shoutedGrandpaJoe,whowasstilldancingaroundthefloorlikeadervishinhisstripedpyjamas.’ShowyourfatherthefifthandlastGoldenTicketintheworld!’
’Letmeseeit,Charlie,’MrBucketsaid,collapsingintoachairandholdingouthishand. Charliecameforwardwiththepreciousdocument.
