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It was a rather cold night, Morticia noticed, as she looked out the frosted french doors onto the balcony of her bedroom. It almost seemed as if snow would start to fall any moment, which was going to give her all the more reason to stay in bed longer. She smirked to herself as she scanned the outside, her eyes suddenly catching on a piece of white paper resting on the iron table on the balcony.
Her curiosity getting the best of her, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the cold, quickly plucking up the paper before ducking back into the warmth of the bedroom. She quickly noticed it was a letter, and with her curiosity taking over once again, she opened it. It wasn’t as if it was in an envelope or anything, who could blame her for prying?
‘My dearest-’ the letter began- ‘shall I compare thee to a moon lit night? With hair as black as the night sky, shining with moon beams. You are far lovelier than the day we met, when you looked so glum as you stared daggers into my soul. You had me ensnard in your trap from that day on.’
Just as Morticia finished reading the letter, her husband surprised her, sliding his arms around her waist. “What have you got there, querida mia?”
“Oh, just a lovely little note my dear husband left out on the balcony,” she said with a smirk, turning her head to look at him.
“My darling, while I will write you millions upon millions of love letters at your command… I did not write this,” Gomez said slowly, his brows furrowed as he read over her shoulder.
“That's a relief. I was concerned that you didn’t know how to spell ‘ensnared.’” She spun around to face him, suddenly concerned. “But wait… if it wasn’t you-”
“Some rat bastard will taste my sword!” Gomez yelled, jumping away from his wife to reach for a rapier on the wall.
“Now, darling, are we sure the letter was intended for me?” Morticia asked calmly before Gomez could skewer an innocent man. “There is no name on it anywhere.”
“Hair as black as the night sky? Oh, I would have been much more eloquent than that, my darling. But! Who else could this be for? Glaring daggers? That sure sounds like you, cara,” Gomez pointed out.
“So who wrote it?” Morticia asked, feeling perplexed and intrigued at the same time. “We have a mystery on our hands, mon cher.”
“Yes… but you spoke French!” Gomez yelled, instantly attacking her arm with fervent kisses. “So it will be solved tomorrow!”
Morticia let out a dreamy sigh, the note all but forgotten. “Fine by me.”
…
Morning rolled around, the wretched sunlight seeming even brighter as it glinted off the fresh blanket of snow outside. Morticia groaned, pulling the thick, black comforter up over her head. “Gomez,” she sighed, “please shut the curtains, I can’t take it.”
“Anything for you, my beloved!” he exclaimed, springing out of bed with an energy Morticia did not possess before ten am. “Begone, blasted sun! Hold on a moment-”
Out of curiosity, Morticia peaked out from beneath the blanket to see Gomez pulling open the doors to the balcony. “Gomez, you’re naked, what are you doing?”
“There is another note out here!” Gomez exclaimed, hopping back across the snow and into the warmth of the bedroom. “I had to go get it! Don’t look down south at the moment.”
Morticia laughed softly as Gomez hurriedly slid back under the covers. “Not to worry, my darling, I know how well endowed you are, freezing cold or not.”
“And don’t you forget it! Now, let's see what this creep has to say about you today!” Gomez unfolded the letter, squinting at it with disdain. “Ugh, this little Casanova could take a writing class or two.”
“Hand it over, dear,” Morticia said with a soft laugh. “I’m less concerned with the skill of the writer and more with the writer themself.” She scanned the paper, her face quickly falling into a scowl. “My frown lines are lovely and intense?”
“How dare this person allude to you having frown lines! Your face is as smooth as a porcelain doll!” Gomez cried in outrage, shoving his face close to the letter. “We must figure out who this odious autor is.”
“Frown lines,” Morticia scoffed, tossing the paper to the side. “FROWN LINES?”
“I see no frown lines but you are turning red,” Gomez observed, cautiously taking the letter and sticking it in the bedside table. “Why don’t we go have breakfast and try to calmly sort this out?”
Morticia raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You? Suggesting doing something calmly?”
“I know,” Gomez said quietly, lifting his hands to his face. “What is happening to me?”
Morticia patted his cheek before sliding out of bed. “At least we can rule out any family member in this fiasco.”
Gomez froze. “Or can we? We all know how I caught my brother with pictures of our mother…”
“Gomez, we do not acknowledge that little part of cannon,” Morticia said firmly, putting that conversation to rest.
“Very well, to breakfast we go!”
…
“Alright, someone tell me who the culprit is!” Gomez yelled, slapping both letters down on the kitchen table, splattering a bit of reddish oatmeal on Pugsley’s shirt.
“So much for calm,” Morticia sighed. “And I thought we ruled out the family?”
“We must question all the suspects!” He plopped down beside Fester, glaring intently at him. “Have you been writing lewd notes to my wife?”
“What?” Fester cried in outrage.
“I wouldn’t call them lewd,” Morticia sighed. “In fact they’re a bit bland, for a secret admirer.”
Lurch handed her a cup of coffee before groaning loudly.
“Lurch!” Gomez yelled as if the thought just struck him. “How would you describe my wife’s face?”
“Gomez, please,” Morticia laughed before taking a sip of scalding coffee. “It wasn’t Lurch.”
“Are either of you going to tell us what this is about?” Wednesday asked in a bored tone. “Or is father going to continue making strange accusations all morning?”
“Between last night and this morning I have found two love letters on my balcony,” Morticia calmly explained, walking over to smooth down one of Wednesday's braids. “Clearly not from your father so we’re trying to find out who wrote them.”
“And how they got on the balcony in the first place!” Gomez cried as Lurch shoved a cup of coffee in his hands. “Thank you!”
“It wasn’t me!” Fester yelled definitely, standing abruptly from the table, once again making oatmeal spill on poor Pugsley’s shirt.
Morticia and Gomez shared a side eyed look. “Fester, you saying that makes you sound highly suspicious.”
“Sus as hell,” Pugsley agreed, slurping oatmeal from his shirt.
“Pugsley,” Morticia admonished. “Don’t say sus.”
“Sorry, Mother.”
“It is odd that you would say that,” Gomez said, stroking his mustache in contemplation. “Fester, do you know something?”
“No… I just wanted to spice things up a bit.” Fester sheepishly sunk back down into his creaky kitchen chair. “It wasn’t me.”
“Well it was someone,” Morticia sighed. “There's no harm in it, I just wish I knew who it was.”
“No harm?” Gomez yelled. “There is plenty of harm! And that harm will befall the perpetrator!”
“What about a neighbor?” Mama asked. “They would have access to your balcony. And they all seem so obsessed with us.”
With a grimace, Morticia said, “The judge? He looks like he smells like, oh what am I thinking of?”
“Old man stank,” Pugsley so helpfully supplied.
“To put it so bluntly, then yes.” Morticia sighed as she sunk into a chair, resting her chin in her hand. “I hope it isn’t him.”
“There's nothing wrong with a bit of elder funk,” Mama said defensively, shooting Morticia a look.
“I like it,” Fester added cheerfully. “Reminds me of my last lady friend.”
“Debbie?” Gomez asked with a grimace.
“No, Dementia!” Fester sighed dreamily as he stirred his oatmeal. “Ah, we had fun times. Too bad she ran away to join the mole people.”
“Back to the matter at hand please!” Gomez said abruptly. “And lest we forget that Valentine's day is tomorrow! Someone is trying to poach my Valentine!”
“No one will poach me, dear,” Morticia said with a smile, reaching up to pat his cheek. “What about Mr. Henson?”
“He does have an… obsession,” Gomez agreed. “Alright, it's settled, he will have to die. Lurch, fetch me my harpoon!”
“No, no harpooning anyone,” Morticia sighed, standing from her chair. “We don’t even know for sure that it's him and you do hate how you look in orange.”
The doorbell echoed through the house and Lurch dutifully headed toward the door, leaving the rest of the family to sit and ponder over Morticia’s secret admirer.
“It isn’t that fucking Lionel again is it?” Gomez snapped with unbridled rage.
“Language, Gomez,” Morticia sighed, rubbing her temples. “The children are present.”
“Ha, dad said fuck,” Pugsley snickered to himself.
“Pugsley, would you grow up?” Wednesday asked.
“Um, excuse me, the other day you called Ariana Grande’s music a, and I quote, ‘fucking abomination,’” Pugsley instantly shot back.
“Yes, well, that was warranted.”
“Back to the matter at hand, I doubt it was Lionel, I think he got the hint.”
“Another letter,” Lurch said, walking into the room with a new note.
“No!” Gomez cried. “What does it say?”
In an almost sarcastic way, Lurch glanced down at the envelope before looking back up at Gomez. “It's sealed, sir.”
“I will open it, thank you, Lurch. Before I do, children, it's time you get down to the bus stop,” Morticia said, placing the note, to everyone's disappointment, down on the table.
“But the mystery!” Pugsley cried.
“Can’t we just see what it says?” Wednesday asked.
“I will fill you in after school. Have a wonderful day, darlings.”
With a groan, the children left with Lurch, leaving Gomez, Fester, and Mama bouncing with anticipation. “Well open it, Morticia!” Mama insisted, reaching for the letter.
Morticia shot her mother in law a disappointed glance. “You’re all a pack of vultures.”
“Thank you,” Fester said happily.
With a sigh, Morticia sliced through the somewhat cheap envelope with a long, red nail. She had to swat Gomez away before he could grab the note from her first. “I will read it out loud just to appease all of you,” she said, trying to sound strict, though the fondness seeped through her voice.
“Alright, it says, on moonless nights when I’m scared of the dark, I think of you, my dark heart of hearts-”
“Gag,” Gomez said flatly.
Morticia shot him a look before continuing. “I can hold on tight to my hypoallergenic sheets and sleep easy, knowing you are far more terrifying than what might be lurking in my closet. I can’t wait to see you on Valentine’s day.”
“So the scoundrel will show themself!” Gomez cried. “Excuse me, I must go set a trap.”
Gomez dashed away before Morticia could protest with Fester eagerly dashing after him to help. “I can shoot him in the back!” was heard as the pair danced away to get into whatever mischief they dreamed up.
“I do hope this doesn’t interfere with our Valentines plans,” Morticia lamented. “I had a romantic day planned but now I’m worried this will be all Gomez can focus on.”
“Eh, just pop a boob out,” Mama said casually, getting up from the table. “He won’t remember a thing.”
“I wonder if all daughters in law are lucky enough to get advice like that.”
“Just you, kid! I’m one of a kind!” And to prove her point, Mama belched loudly before pinching Lurch’s ass and waltzing out of the kitchen.
Morticia laughed to herself before turning toward the now beet red Lurch. “Do you have any theories?”
Lurch shrugged. “A demon?”
“Oh… wouldn’t that be intriguing?”
…
Valentines morning rolled around and for once Morticia was up rather early. With an eager grin, she straddled her sleeping husband and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “happy Valentine’s day, mon amour.”
Gomez’s eyes shot open instantaneously. “Has the blaggard shown himself?” he cried, much to Morticia’s disappointment.
“Gomez-”
“I must go check the traps!”
“Multiple traps?”
“Our house has many entrances!”
“Yes, well, our house isn’t the only thing with many entrances-”
“I must be off!”
Before another move could be made, the doorbell rang, making the couple freeze on the spot. “It's them,” Gomez whispered, eyes wide. “It's the fiend!”
They both scrambled into their robes in an attempt to look somewhat decent for whoever this strange, secret admirer was. They made their way quickly out to the hall, the sound of the rest of the family rushing about filling the house.
“I’m ready to shoot!” Fester yelled as he rushed past Gomez and Morticia, shotgun in hand.
“Questions first, shoot later!” Morticia called after him, though Gomez at the same time had pulled a sword from who knows where. “Gomez!”
“You can never be too cautious!”
By the time the entire family had reached the foyer, Lurch already had the door open and on the other side standing in the snow was a very bewildered looking Joel Glicker, holding a black cardboard heart and a bouquet of rose stems.
“So you’re the little pervert!” Gomez accused.
“In the back!” Fester yelled.
“Absolutely not!” Morticia said quickly, stepping between the two men and the small boy. “Clearly Joel is here for Wednesday.”
“Uh, yeah, my note said I was coming by,” Joel stammered, glancing over at Wednesday. “Did you tell them?”
“What note?” Wednesday asked, glaring daggers at her little Romeo.
“You know…” Joel said, his cheeks heating up as Morticia ushered him into the house. “The ones I’ve been leaving on your balcony. Then at the door yesterday… I thought, I don’t know, that it would be romantic.” He shrugged, looking incredibly uncomfortable to be spilling this to the entire family and also ashamed of the action entirely.
A glow started coming from Uncle Fester, and everyone turned to see he had a lightbulb illuminated in his mouth. He grinned, pulling out the bulb. “Get it! Lightbulb!”
“They were meant for Wednesday,” Morticia sighed in relief, leaning against Gomez. “I don’t have frown lines!”
“That is quite a weight off my shoulders!” Gomez yelled, tossing his sword off to the side. “I was a bit too tired to skewer anyone today.”
“I never got your notes,” Wednesday explained. “You threw them onto my parent’s balcony.”
As if Joel’s face wasn’t red before, it was positively glowing like a neon sign. “Okay, well, I’m going to go let your mom’s plant eat me now because I have to die.”
“No need, Joel dear, they were very sweet and you can still pass them along to Wednesday,” Morticia said with a smile.
“I got the gist,” Wednesday said flatly. “Is that heart for me?”
“Um… yeah,” Joel said awkwardly, extending the heart. “And these stems. I figured since that's all I see in your house you wouldn’t want whole flowers.”
“You were right,” Wednesday said, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks. I didn’t get you anything.”
“Good…. I was afraid of what your gift would be.”
“We’ll leave you two love bats alone,” Morticia said, gesturing for the rest of the family to follow her out. “It was nice to see you, Joel.”
“Um, yeah, likewise once there wasn’t a gun in my face.”
“Sorry not sorry!” Fester said, hugging his gun tight to his chest.
“Come along, cara mia,” Gomez whispered, wrapping his arm around Morticia’s waist. “I believe you said something about many entrances.”
She raised an eyebrow back at him. “But was I referring to myself, or to you?”
“Oh… happy Valentines day to me!”