Chapter Text
The Addams family graveyard was teeming with life. All living family members, once again under one roof, were engaged in their annual game known as ‘The Death Trap’, where each member could sharpen their skills by murdering each other.
The round was off to an exhilarating start. Gomez and Morticia were deeply focused in an invigorating fencing match among the graves. Parry, lunge, riposte. Parry, lunge, riposte. The couple danced back and forth, attacking and counterattacking as smoothly as a river flows. Morticia lunged forward. Gomez, in a moment of surprise, took a step back and tripped over a headstone.
The battle continued until the two of them became locked in a prise de fer. Their blades swayed left and right, neither one of them gaining the upper hand. Morticia, however, let her guard down as she chose to parry. Gomez, sensing an opening, successfully performed a feint, firmly planting his sabre into Morticia.
“Ah-ha! Looks like I won after all, Cara Mia,” Gomez pushed his sword deeper into Morticia.
“Oh, Mon Cher, I believe you’re forgetting something,” said Morticia.
Gomez turned around, coming face to face with a very carnivorous plant.
Wednesday stealthily stalked her prey through the woods. Her steps light and quiet, she hid within the bushes and snuck up on her target. With her crossbow as steady as ever, she aimed and fired. Her prey cried out in terror and amusement as it fell to the ground. She approached it to get a better look at their last moments.
“It appears you’ve been foiled,” she said.
Pugsley, an arrow lodged in his stomach, merely smirked in return. He pressed a remote in his pocket, and soon enough, the glorious sound of detonations was getting ever closer.
Grandmama Addams (not Frump) watched in momentary distraction as the forest exploded in a blazing fireball. How it seemed like just yesterday when her grandchildren discovered the joys of gunpowder. Grandmama went back to the task at hand: hurling potions at Uncle Fester. Each potion she threw, he dodged without breaking a sweat. And each potion that landed sprouted objects from the ground. It was an annoyingly amusing challenge.
A pair of lightbulbs popped out of the dirt. Fester gleefully activated the bulbs, sending a current through the ground, electrocuting Grandmama much more therapeutically than any toaster bath could.
Bells rang throughout the graveyard. “Alright everyone,” Gomez yelled, “The round is up. Gather around the couch. It’s time to wake the ancestors,”
All family members made their way over. With Lurch and Thing opening the unattached ceremonial cemetery gates, Fester tapped the ground, sending volts of electricity throughout the Addams graveyard. Ghostly apparitions made their presence known as they rose from every headstone. An innumerable number of ancestors appeared, everyone from Great-Aunt Calpurnia to Uncle Knick-knack.
Looks like round two will be upping the stakes.
The day before winter break came about at Nevermore. During a break between classes, Wednesday and Enid were packing up their respective sides of the room. Enid’s side of the room was slowly losing its signature colours, while Wednesday’s merely became a few shades lighter than the darkest black known to man.
“So, where’d you go off to this weekend?” Enid asked as she zipped up one of her suitcases.
“Family gathering. All members living, dead, and undecided.” said Wednesday.
“Huh… So, um, what’d you guys get up to?” said Enid.
“We maimed each other thoroughly. ‘Twas a most enjoyable evening. I would ask about your weekend escapade, but unfortunately, I already know you’ve been to Jericho,” said Wednesday.
“Oh, so, you do use social media after all,” teased Enid.
“Only to observe the collapse of society,” said Wednesday.
“Huh… Well, if you really want to know what I’ve been up to,” Enid pulled something out from under her bed and eagerly gifted it to Wednesday.
Wednesday inspected the mysterious gift. It was heavy and wrapped in black wrapping paper. Well, it was mostly wrapped. The unmistakable bones of a human arm were protruding out of one corner.
“What is this?” she asked, a hint of curiosity betraying her monotonous speech patterns.
“A gift silly! You said your typewriter broke last Friday, so I got you a new one,” said Enid.
“I know that. However, what is with the skeletal appendage attached to it?” said Wednesday as she toyed around with it.
“Oh that? Well, let’s just say there’s a grave in Jericho with one less arm in it,” said Enid.
“You went gravedigging. For me. I’m flattered,” said Wednesday, a small smile on her face.
The two of them went back to packing. Enid began cramming sweaters into a suitcase, while Wednesday was busy figuring out how to pack an arm and a typewriter into a trunk without damaging them.
A momentary silence settled in the room until Wednesday spoke up. “Enid, I have a request for you,” she said.
Enid perked up from her position on the floor, where she was being engulfed by a myriad of colourful sweaters.
“Would you accept an invitation to a family dinner at my residence next week? It would involve both of our respective families. You don’t need to accept. I can tolerate my family’s incessant yapping about it, any hour of the day,” said Wednesday.
“Well…” Enid hesitated for a moment. On one hand, she didn’t want her family anywhere near Wednesday’s. The amount of backhanded compliments her mother makes towards ‘regular’ outcasts was frustrating enough. On the other hand, it was just one dinner. One single dinner. What’s the worst that could happen?
“You know what? I’m down. Gotta bite the bullet eventually, am I right?” said Enid.
“Well, since you’ve agreed, I expect to see you soon, mi lobita. I will text you the date from my electronic device,” said Wednesday.