‘Talk to me, Mike!’ cried Mrs Teavee. ‘Say something! Tell me you’re
all right!’
A tiny little voice, no louder than the squeaking of a mouse, came out
of the television set. ‘Hi, Mum!’ it said. ‘Hi, Pop! Look at me! I’m the first
person ever to be sent by television!’
‘Grab him!’ ordered Mr Wonka. ‘Quick!’
Mrs Teavee shot out a hand and picked the tiny figure of Mike Teavee
out of the screen.
‘Hooray!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘He’s all in one piece! He’s completely
unharmed!’
‘You call that unharmed?’ snapped Mrs Teavee, peering at the little
speck of a boy who was now running to and fro across the palm of her
hand, waving his pistols in the air.
He was certainly not more than an inch tall.
‘He’s shrunk!’ said Mr Teavee.
‘Of course he’s shrunk,’ said Mr Wonka. ‘What did you expect?’
‘This is terrible!’ wailed Mrs Teavee. ‘What are we going to do?’
And Mr Teavee said, ‘We can’t send him back to school like this! He’ll
get trodden on! He’ll get squashed!’
‘He won’t be able to do anything!’ cried Mrs Teavee.