Addams Family Values

Addams Family Values Todd Strasser

Pocket Books 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 USA ISBN: 0-6718-8036-5

Chapter 1 On a cloudy night in early spring, the sky was all but obliterated by a thick, moist fog, with only the faint luminescence of the full moon showing through the oppressive curtain of mist. Out on the edge of town, surrounded by swamps, and its own personal cemetery, stood the massive, decaying Addams mansion. With peeling paint, rotting wood, and broken window shutters hanging askew, it rose out of the fog. Owww-woooooooo! A wolf's cry pierced the air. But it was no ordinary wolf who uttered this fearsome call. It was Fester Addams! Overweight and bald, dressed in gray cloaks, Fester had been drawn to the roof by that wild, untamed instinct that draws all animals to the full moon. Owww-woooooooo! Gripping a rotten railing, his dark-ringed eyes locked on the glowing, mist-shrouded orb in the night sky, Fester howled beseechingly like a lonely wild animal yearning for a mate. The rest of the Addams family heard the howls and were comforted to have Fester at home after years of absence. Down in that special corner of the cemetery designated for pets only, twelve-year-old Wednesday prepared for a burial. Wednesday's black hair was parted in the middle, and a long black braid hung past each of her shoulders. She was dressed in a black jumper, black tights, and black boots, with only the collar of her white blouse providing any contrast. The look on her face was grim. Kneeling beside her was her nine-year-old brother, Pugsley, who displayed the squint-eyed look of an executioner. Wearing a black-and-white-striped T-shirt, black shorts, and black boots, the boy held a spade with which he was digging a small grave. Joining the two of them was their Granny, a rather ordinary-looking witch with long, stringy gray hair, warts on her nose, and gnarled, crooked fingers. Pugsley paused from digging. "Think it's deep enough?" "What do you think, Granny?" Wednesday asked.

"I've always preferred a shallow grave myself," Granny replied. "All right, then," Wednesday said, picking up a shoe box sealed with black electrical tape and handing it to her brother. As the fog drifted past and Fester continued to howl from the roof, Pugsley started to lower the shoe box into the grave. "Dearly beloved," Granny said, giving the last rites. "We are gathered here today . . ." Meow! went the box. "Shhh . . ." went Wednesday. Gomez Addams stood by the French doors near the mansion's great room, watching his children through a cracked pane of glass. Gomez was a handsome man with black slicked-down hair, lively eyes, and a pencil mustache. A bit of a dandy, he was given to elegantly tailored suits of a bygone era. Tonight he wore a velvet maroon smoking jacket with a fez. Owww-woooooooo! The sound of his brother Fester's braying saddened Gomez, who sensed his brother's loneliness, and it disturbed him deeply. If only there was someone or something out there for Fester. Gomez felt a tug on the cuff of his pants and looked down. There on the floor was Thing, the disembodied hand. Gomez let the tattered black curtain fall across the window. "Yes, Thing, what is it?" Thing made a motion as if clapping. Gomez understood. "Are you sure you're up for it?" he asked, momentarily forgetting about his brother's woes. Thing tapped his fingers eagerly on the floor. "Then, why, certainly!" Gomez said. Thing hopped up and down happily, then scut' ried toward the mansion's great room. Gomez followed, removing his smoking jacket and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. Thing held the door open for him, and Gomez went inside. The great room was a large, circular two-story chamber in the center of the house. The walls were brown and decaying, the windows were cracked, and an enormous chandelier hung precariously by a shredded rope in the center of the room. There Lurch, the towering butler, was dusting some books. "A cantata, Lurch!" Gomez cried happily. "Thing and I are about to enter the fray." A low, guttural grumble escaped Lurch's throat and he climbed the curving wooden stairs up to the huge pipe organ. Gomez turned and saw his beautiful wife, Morticia, sitting in her favorite chair, which fanned out in the shape of a spiderweb. Gomez's heart warmed at the sight of her. "Ah, Tish, you are simply radiant tonight." Morticia's bloodred lips parted in a smile. Her long black hair was parted in the middle. Her dark eyes sparkled. But just recently Gomez had noticed some color trying to creep into her lovely pasty-white complexion. It worried him slightly, but he knew that if anything were wrong, his wife would tell him. "Thank you, darling," Morticia replied, looking up from her knitting. She watched her husband drape his smoking jacket over a chair and roll up his other sleeve. "Exercise, Gomez?" "Indeed," Gomez replied. "Sabers?" "Better." "Chess?" "More strenuous." "Oh, yes, of course."

"Arm wrestling!" Gomez cried. He sat down at a table, propping his elbow. Thing hopped up on the table and they clasped hands. "At the count of three!" Gomez said. "One. .." "Two ..." Without waiting, Thing lunged to his left, pressing Gomez's hand toward the tabletop. "Bravo, Thing!" Morticia cheered softly. Gomez gritted his teeth and fought Thing back to the neutral territory. All at once a grandiose cantata filled the room as Lurch bent over the keys of the pipe organ. "Inspiration!" Gomez hissed through clenched teeth, and slowly began to drive Thing down. But Thing fought back with remarkable strength considering the body it lacked. Gomez grimaced, his face contorted, as Thing slowly drove his hand down toward the tabletop once again. "Think you've got me, don't you?" Gomez grimaced. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his face had turned red. "Well..." With one final herculean effort, Gomez flung Thing back, pinning him to the table. "Yes!" Gomez said, raising his arms in triumph. Then taking out a handkerchief, he patted his brow. Thing turned his palm up in surrender. Gomez and Thing shook like gentlemen, and Thing lay down on the table to rest. "Gomez?" Morticia said from the chair where she knitted. "Cara mia?" "Marvelous news," Morticia said. "I'm going to have a baby." She paused for a moment and then added, "Right now." Lurch lumbered off to get the family's vintage Rolls-Royce Phantom, Fester got the children and Granny, and Gomez helped Morticia downstairs. They all met outside the front door and stood together in the misty air. "What's going on?" Pugsley asked. "Your mother's going to have a baby," Gomez said. Thing, not about to be left out, was resting on his shoulder. "Is that all?" Wednesday seemed a little petulant. "It's exciting, darling," Gomez said. "It would be nice to have a new baby," Granny sighed. Lurch pulled the Rolls around and they all got in the back. "To the hospital, Lurch!" Gomez cried. Lurch put the car in gear and they pulled away. In the backseat Gomez squeezed Morticia's hand. "Do you think you'll make it all the way to the hospital?" "I might," his wife replied, looking serene amidst the family's chaos.

Chapter 2 Lurch stopped the car in front of the hospital's emergency room entrance, and Gomez helped Morticia out. They went inside to the nurses' station counter. "Can I help you?" a young woman in a white uniform asked. "Yes," Gomez said. "My wife is about to give birth." The nurse looked over the counter at Morticia. "What makes you think—" she began, but abruptly stopped and stared. Thing was rubbing Morticia's stomach lightly. "What is that?" the nurse gasped. "This is Thing," Morticia replied. The nurse quickly picked up the phone. "This is the emergency room. I need two orderlies and a stretcher stat. And alert the maternity ward. We've got a baby on the way." The double doors across the room flew open and two orderlies dashed in with a gurney. "Come children!" Fester called as the orderlies helped Morticia onto the gurney. The family gathered around Morticia as she was lifted onto the gurney. "I think we better take her directly to the delivery room," the nurse said. "Let's go." With Thing racing ahead, opening doors, the orderlies and the family ran beside the gurney down the green corridors, a doctor joining them as they went. "I'm Dr. Harris, the staff obstetrician," he said, jogging along with them. "You have your choice of two types of delivery rooms. There's the traditional delivery room, which is all stainless steel and antiseptic—rather like an operating room and a depressing place to bring a new child into the world, if you ask me." "Sounds perfect," Gomez said. Dr. Harris frowned, but continued as he ran. "And then there's our new birthing room, which gets direct sunlight and has curtains on the windows and is a much more natural setting for giving birth." "Sounds horrid," Morticia said from the gurney. "We'll stick with the traditional one," Gomez said.

Among the surrounding chaos Morticia remained elegant and unruffled on the gurney. As Gomez jogged beside her, the thought of the impending birth of his child ignited his passion. He grasped her hand and held it tight. "Nurse, how close are the contractions?" Dr. Harris asked a nurse, who had placed a fetal monitor on Morticia's stomach. "Every fifteen seconds, Doctor," the nurse replied. The news sent a burst of rapturous excitement through Gomez. He bent over the gurney and spoke intimately to his wife as she rolled down the hall. "Are you in unbearable pain?" he asked. "Is it inhuman? My darling, is it torture?" "Oui," Morticia purred. They reached the delivery room. Thing held the door open, but as the family started to follow the gurney in, Dr. Harris suddenly stopped them. "Wait, you can't all go in," he said. "Why not?" asked Granny. "You're not scrubbed," the doctor explained. "It's unsanitary. There's too much risk of infection." He turned to Gomez. "Sir, you must explain to your children and, er, these others that they cannot be present during the delivery. They must wait in the maternity waiting room." Gomez gathered his children, Lurch, Granny, Fester, and Thing around him. "I'm afraid we'll have to listen to the doctor," he said. "Now, go on." Fester stepped close and whispered something in Gomez's ear. Gomez frowned. Fester looked disappointed

and slouched away. "What did he ask for, Father?" Wednesday asked. "A lock of the baby's hair," Gomez said. Granny sighed. "Poor Fester. He just hasn't been himself lately." Gomez nodded and gazed at his troubled brother, who had taken a seat and was digging wax out of his ear with the single fingernail he kept extra long for that purpose. Perhaps, Gomez thought, he had been too hard on him just now. A lock of baby hair. . . Clearly Fester was going through a difficult time. "She's six centimeters dilated," the nurse inside the delivery room yelled. "Tell the husband he'd better get in here." Gomez snapped out of his thoughts. "Take everyone to the maternity waiting room," he told Lurch. "I'll join you all as soon as I can." Gomez stepped into the delivery room. Morticia, still elegant and unruffled, was now in the process of giving birth, surrounded by doctors and nurses. "She's completely dilated," said Dr. Harris. "Push, Mrs. Addams." Morticia closed her eyes and pushed, a rapturous smile on her face. "Look, my darling!" Gomez cried. "You can see the tail!" Morticia nodded and groaned gracefully. "Forceps!" Dr. Harris said, holding his hand open. "Forceps!" repeated the nurse beside him, holding hers open. Having changed its mind and sneaked into the delivery room, Thing picked up the forceps and placed them in the nurse's hand. "Ahhhh!" the nurse screamed. "Mrs. Addams, would you like anesthesia?" Dr. Harris asked. "No, thank you," Morticia replied. "But ask the children." "Cara mia ..." Gomez whispered, passionately kissing Morticia's hand. "Mon cher..." Morticia whispered back with equal desire. Dr. Harris cleared his throat impatiently. "Mrs. Addams? The baby?" With deep regret Morticia gazed into her husband's eyes. "Pardon .. . darling."

Chapter 3

The rest of the Addams family waited in the gaily decorated maternity waiting room. The walls were adorned with drawings of pastel-colored animals and balloons, and a number of children's toys were scattered around the floor. Several other people were waiting there nervously. "I hate places like this," Wednesday muttered sullenly. "Now, now, Wednesday," said Fester. "What are they all so worried about, anyway?" Pugsley whispered to Granny. "They're worried they won't have normal babies," Granny whispered back. A small blond girl approached them. She was wearing a light blue sweater over a pink dress and carrying a

Barbie doll. She had pink ribbons in her hair. Wednesday regarded her suspiciously. "Hi, I'm Rebecca Sloane," the girl said. "I'm Wednesday Addams and this is my brother, Pugsley," Wednesday said. "Is your mommy having a baby?" Rebecca asked. "My mommy's having one. And I know how it was made. Want to hear?" Wednesday rolled her eyes, but Pugsley nodded. "Well, Daddy kissed Mommy," Rebecca said. "Then Mommy kissed Daddy, and the stork flew down from Heaven, and left a diamond under a leaf in the cabbage patch, and the diamond turned into a baby." "Our parents are having a baby, too," Pugsley said. "They had sex," added Wednesday. "What's that?" Rebecca asked. "It's when—" Wednesday started to say, but the grown-ups who were with Rebecca hurried over and led the little girl away. Wednesday and Pugsley turned back toward the chairs where the rest of the Addams family were sitting. "What if Mom has a boy?" Pugsley asked. "I say it's a girl," said Wednesday, firmly. "I say it's a boy!" Pugsley was just as firm. "Children, children," said Granny. "Perhaps you're both right." Fester looked up, excited. "Twins?" "No," said Granny, shaking her head with a smile. The door to the waiting room burst open and Gomez flew in, so excited he could barely speak. "Gomez!" Fester cried, jumping up. "What news?" Granny gasped as they all crowded around him. Gomez opened his mouth, but no words came out. "Father, what is it?" Wednesday asked. "It's..." Gomez took a deep breath. "An Addams!"

Chapter 4

Morticia and the baby stayed in the hospital for a few days, regaining their strength. The family visited often, bringing wilted flowers and blackened rose stems from the garden. Finally the day came to take mother and child home. While Gomez went to Morticia's room to help her prepare for the trip, the children and Uncle Fester went to the maternity ward. Through a glass window they stared into the nursery at the rows of white bassinets, all containing sweet, gurgling babies. Each bassinet had a last name on it, some on light blue labels, some on pink labels. Fester gazed wistfully at the babies. "What's wrong, Uncle Fester?" Pugsley asked. "Oh, I was just wondering if the day will ever come when I will have children of my own," Fester said. "How come some of the labels are pink and some are blue?" Pugsley asked, pointing at the bassinets. "Maybe it's based on the color of their eyes," Fester suggested. "It has nothing to do with that," Wednesday said. "It has to do with their sex. The ones with light blue labels are boys, and the ones with pink are girls." Rebecca Sloane and her father arrived and pressed their faces against the window, too. "We're coming to get my new little sister," Rebecca said, pointing into the window. "See?" A smiling redheaded nurse stepped into the nursery. She waved cheerfully at Rebecca and her father, then went over to the bassinet that said Sloane. She bent over and gently lifted the pink-faced baby out. The baby was swaddled in a pink blanket. The nurse pressed it close to her bosom, then smiled again and left the nursery. "Where's she taking your sister?" Pugsley asked. "She's going to bring it to my mommy," Rebecca informed them. "Then we're all going to leave the hospital together." She and her father left. "What about our little brother?" Pugsley asked. "Look." Wednesday pointed through the glass as a terrified-looking nurse edged her way toward a black bassinet in the corner, clearly kept separate from the rest. On the bassinet was a label with the name addams scrawled on it. The nurse stopped beside the bassinet and looked down with a shudder. She reached tentatively into the black bassinet and held up a bundle wrapped in a black blanket. Holding it with outstretched arms and biting her lower lip, the nurse gingerly backed out of the nursery. A little while later the children joined their parents in the parking lot and got into the family car. Wednesday and Pugsley watched expectantly as Morticia cuddled the infant. Beaming like a proud father, Gomez reached over and tickled the infant under its chin. "Ow!" he suddenly shouted, pulling his finger away. "What happened?" Granny asked. "He bit me." Gomez held up his finger. The teeth marks were clearly visible, and blood began to ooze from them.

"Such a bad little boy!" Morticia said with delight, rocking the child in her arms. "What sharp teeth," Gomez said. "And imagine, he's only three days old." "Addamses always get baby teeth early and sharp," Granny said. They got to the house, and Gomez led Morticia and the baby down a gloomy corridor with peeling wallpaper and creaking floorboards. Thing scooted down the hallway ahead of them on a roller skate, pushing open

doors. "I've arranged a little surprise, my dearest," Gomez said. "I hope you like it." Ahead of them Thing stopped and pushed open another door. Gomez stepped into the room and made a sweeping gesture with his arms. Morticia followed. "Oh, Gomez!" she gasped. The walls were covered with brown and gray wallpaper, the lights were dimmed, and the room was dominated by a large black cradle. "It's enchanting!" Morticia gushed. "Come, cara mia. "Gomez took her hand and led her to the elaborate antique ebony crib festooned with black crepe. "The Addams cradle," Morticia said with a smile. "I got it out of the attic." Gomez ran his finger along the edge. "How wonderful!" Morticia placed the baby on the black satin sheets and clasped her hands together. Gomez slipped his arm around her waist, and together they stared down proudly at the newest member of the family. Lying in the crib, the child began to cry. Wrinkles creased Morticia's brow. "It worries me, Gomez." "Why, my darling? What's the problem?" "I'm afraid if he cries now, during the day, it will mean a peaceful night's sleep." "You're right!" Gomez said. "I know." Morticia picked up a teddy bear and pulled a string attached to its neck. GRRROARRRR! The little teddy bear roared in an amazingly loud and frightening manner. At once the baby stopped crying and cooed happily. "Here you are, darling." Morticia placed the teddy bear in the crib. "And look," Gomez said. He swung a mobile over the baby's head. Hanging from the mobile were several sharp knives, razors, and ice picks. Gomez spun the mobile gently and it began to make tinkly funeral music. Soon the baby's coos were replaced by deep, sonorous snores. Gomez reached into the crib and patted the child's head. "Welcome home, my son." Both in a foul mood, the children retreated to Wednesday's room. Pugsley sat down on the floor and began to play with his old chemistry set Wednesday played with a doll with black hair and black clothes. Wednesday pressed her hand against her chin and thought. "You know, when you have a new baby, one of the other children has to die." "That's not true!" Pugsley said. "It is so," Wednesday insisted. "Everyone knows it. You can ask them." "Even Granny?" Pugsley asked.

"Yes." Pugsley stared at his sister uncertainly. "It's common knowledge," Wednesday went on.

"Really?" "It's a tradition," Wednesday said. "One of us has to go." "Which one?" Pugsley asked. "Well. . . they only need one boy." Pugsley thought about that. "Says who?" "Me," said Wednesday. "I don't see why I have to be the one who dies," Pugsley said. "Maybe someone else should." "But there's only you and me." "No, that's not true," said Pugsley. "There's the baby, too." "But he's new." "So? Pretty soon he'll be old. Then he'll be just like us. I don't see what we need him for anyway." "I suppose you're right," Wednesday said. "But they won't want us to kill him. At least, not yet. You know how everyone always wants to play with the new thing." "Well, we won't tell them we're going to kill him," Pugsley said. "We'll make it look like an accident." "You're right," said Wednesday. "We could put him in front of the car tires, and then ask Lurch to drive us somewhere." "Good idea." Pugsley jumped to his feet. "No, wait, it won't work," Wednesday said. "They just brought him home from the hospital. They won't want him to go out so soon. It has to be an accident that happens in the house." "Don't we have any creatures that could eat him?" Pugsley asked. "We used to," Wednesday said. "But we ate the python for Christmas dinner, and the leopard got away when Mother left the kitchen door open." "Then maybe we could scald him," Pugsley said, "or accidentally cook him in the oven." "I know!" Wednesday gasped. "Tell me," said Pugsley. Wednesday whispered something in his ear. "Yes." Pugsley nodded. "I like that. I really do." Wednesday jumped up and opened her closet. From inside she took out two pairs of heavy rubber hip boots and elbow-length gloves. Then together they clopped down the stairs to the kitchen. Granny was stirring her caldron, and Lurch stoked the fire under the oven. "Grandmother?" Wednesday greeted Granny with as much good cheer as she could bear, which was very little. "Yes, children?" Granny replied. "We're going to give the baby a bath," Wednesday said. "Isn't that sweet." Granny grinned, revealing discolored gums and a single hooked tooth. "Where's the bleach?" Wednesday asked innocently. Lurch grumbled and pointed under the kitchen sink. Pugsley bent down and pulled open a cabinet. Inside was

a large white jug marked extrastrength bleach, with a black skull and crossbones stamped on it. "Have fun, children!" Granny called as Pugsley carried the bottle up the stairs. "Where should we do it?" he asked. "I was thinking of the bathtub," said Wednesday. "But it occurred to me that the bleach is so strong, it might stain the porcelain." "What about a pail?" Pugsley asked.

"Perfect." They found an old metal pail in a closet and dragged it into the nursery along with the bleach. The baby must have been sleeping because it was moaning softly. "Do you really think we'll kill it?" Pugsley asked as he twisted the cap off the bleach. "Perhaps," said Wednesday, "or we might just scar it for life." "That's almost as good, I guess." Pugsley poured some bleach into the pail. The liquid began to bubble as it reacted chemically to the metal of the pail. Steamlike vapors rose from it. The fumes were so strong, Pugsley's eyes began to tear. "Does it really burn?" Wednesday asked. "Yes!" Pugsley gasped, rubbing the tears out of his eyes. Wednesday went over to the crib and reached in. The baby's skin was ghost white, and it already had a headful of greasy black hair parted in the middle. The faintest hint of a pencil mustache could be seen over his upper lip. Wednesday picked up the sleeping baby and carried him toward the bubbling pail. Suddenly the door opened and Gomez stepped in. "Children, what are you doing with the baby?" he asked. "We were just going to drop him in this bucket of extrastrength bleach," Wednesday said. "Don't you think you should ask Mother first?" Gomez said, taking the baby in his arms. "Why?" asked Pugsley. "Well, she might want to watch," Gomez said. "She and I are eager to witness every stage of his development." Wednesday glanced at Pugsley and began to pull off her heavy gloves. Somehow, the idea had lost its appeal.

Chapter 5

The next day in the nursery, Gomez and Morticia were joined by the whole family. Fester watched as Morticia set the child down in the crib. The grownups stood around and admired him while Wednesday and Pugsley stood off to the side. "Look at him," Gomez said proudly. "He has my father's eyes." "Gomez," Morticia said. "Take those out of his mouth." Fester reached into the crib and tickled the baby's chin. "Kitchy-koo! Kitchy-kitchy-koo! Look, he's got my

finger! That's right, baby! Hello, baby!" Suddenly Fester gasped in pain. A growl rose out of the crib. With some difficulty, Fester managed to pull his hand away.

"Right to the bone!" Fester cried. Gomez smiled proudly. "He's all Addams!" "A baby in the house!" Granny chortled with joy and gave Gomez a sharp elbow to the stomach, doubling the man over. "It's about time! Hey, kiddo!" A vicious-looking flaming arrow streaked out of the cradle, narrowly missing her face and slamming into the ceiling, where it quivered and smoked. "Did you see that?" Morticia asked with a doting smile. Loud, growling snores began to rise up from the cradle. "Oh, he must be tired," Morticia cooed. "Perhaps we should let him nap." "All right," said Gomez, and he herded everyone out of the room. Fester backed away, wrapping his bleeding finger in some dirty rags. He knew he should be pleased that his brother and sister-in-law were so happy together and had such a wonderful family, but instead he felt lonely and perhaps a little bit jealous. Of course, jealousy was an admirable emotion, but in this situation it was rather useless. If only something like love would happen to him! Wednesday and Pugsley also left the room, disgusted by this orgy of parental delight. They headed up the stairs to the attic, where they passed the family screening room, which contained an old collection of electric chairs set up in rows before an old screen. Finally they came to their favorite toy, a full-size guillotine imported by Gomez's great-great-great-grandfather from France. "I feel like playing Marie Antoinette," Wednesday said. "What shall we use for the weak-willed King Louis?" "I know!" Pugsley said. "Be right back." He ran downstairs and was back a few moments later, lugging a large watermelon. "The revolutionary court has decreed death!" Wednesday shouted, holding up a dusty roll of parchment. "Death! Death to the enemies of the people of the Republic!" Pugsley placed the watermelon on the guillotine. "Do you have any last requests?" he asked. The watermelon lay silently. "Behead him!" Wednesday cried. Pugsley pulled the rope that released the massive, razor-sharp steel blade. Thwack! The blade plunged down, neatly slicing off a third of the watermelon. "Hoorah!" Wednesday cried. "Justice is served. Bring forward the evil queen!" "Be right back," Pugsley said. A little while later, he returned pulling an old wooden wagon. In the wagon was the baby, dressed in a large doll's flowing lace gown that had once been quite elegant but was now reduced to tatters, much like the dress Marie Antoinette might have worn during her final days. The baby also wore a disheveled white wig. His pale skin had been powdered deathly white, and his lips had been painted dark red with lipstick. A prominent black beauty mark was visible on his face, and he was blindfolded with a black cloth. "The queen throws parties while the rest of Paris starves!" Wednesday cried as she read from the dusty roll of parchment. "The people have no bread, and what does the queen say? 'Let them eat cake'!" Pugsley silently pulled on the rope to raise the blade again. "You have betrayed the people of France!" Wednesday shouted, and stood over the baby. "You are evil incarnate. How do you plead?"

Pugsley held up the baby and hid his face behind him. "Guilty!" he cried in a high-pitched voice. "Guilty!" Wednesday shouted. "By her own admission! The sentence is death! Executioner, place her on the block!" Pugsley placed the baby on the guillotine. "On the count of three," Wednesday ordered. "One, two—" They were interrupted by their mother, calling from downstairs. "Children?" Morticia called. "Yes, Mother?" Pugsley and Wednesday replied. "What are you doing in there?" Morticia asked. "Playing!" Wednesday and Pugsley replied innocently. Wednesday turned back to her brother and quickly hissed, "Three!" Pugsley pulled the cord. The huge, razor-sharp blade plummeted down. At the last second, the baby's tiny arm jerked up and his hand stopped the blade. "Woe to the Republic!" Wednesday sighed sadly. The door to the attic opened and Morticia came in. "Children, have you seen the baby? I've looked every—" Morticia caught sight of the baby lying on the guillotine, holding up the blade. "Oh, you've been playing with him! How sweet!" But then she scowled. "How did he get under the guillotine?" "We put him there," Wednesday replied. "Now, children, you must be more careful," Morticia said as she pulled the rope that raised the blade. "You don't want to hurt him, do you?" In the weeks that followed, Pugsley and Wednesday tied the baby to a lightning rod on the roof during an electrical storm. They left him in the middle of the road, covered with leaves, and waited to see if any cars or trucks might hit him. When that didn't work, they locked him in a steamer trunk in the attic, where he stayed for more than three days until Morticia noticed he was missing and went looking for him. Finally, one cloudy night, they went back to the roof again with the baby and a cannonball. "Ooooooowwwwwooooo!" On the other side of the roof, Fester was howling.

"Seems like he does that every night now," Pugsley said. "Didn't he only used to do it once in a while?" "Father says Uncle Fester is feeling the pain of a lack of female companionship," Wednesday said. "Father says it's not good for a man to be without a woman." "Why?" Wednesday shrugged and stepped to the edge of the roof with the baby. Pugsley stood beside her, holding the cannonball. "The baby weighs ten pounds," Wednesday said. "The cannonball weighs twenty pounds. Which will hit the stone walkway first?" Pugsley looked down over the edge of the roof. The walkway was far below. From high above, Thing's red wagon looked like a small toy. "Well, what's your answer?" Wednesday asked. Pugsley shrugged. "I'm still on fractions." "Which do you think?" Wednesday said. "The cannonball?" Pugsley guessed. "Very good," Wednesday said. "But which one will bounce?" "The baby?" Pugsley guessed.

"There's only one way to find out," said Wednesday. "Ready?" Wednesday held the baby out over the edge of the roof. Pugsley did the same with the cannonball. "One," counted Pugsley. "Two," said Wednesday. "Three!" they cried together. Pugsley let go of the cannonball, and Wednesday let go of the baby. Both disappeared into the night air. Meanwhile, in the master bedroom two floors below, Morticia and Gomez were getting ready to retire. Morticia sat at her dressing table, wearing a lace peignoir and brushing out her long, beautiful black hair. Gomez stood by the French doors, buttoning his pajama top. "Gomez?" Morticia said. "Yes, my darling?" "I'm a bit worried about the children." "Why?" Gomez asked. "It's how they behave with the baby," Morticia said, putting her brush down. "It's become very difficult for me to find the line between typical childish torture and a true intent on their part to commit murder." "They're still young," Gomez said by way of explanation. "I suppose you're right." Morticia started to brush her hair again. Sensing that his wife needed reassurance, Gomez stepped close and placed his hands on her shoulders. "What a glorious evening," Gomez said softly as he caressed her shoulders. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled back, answering Fester's call. "Pure enchantment," Morticia replied, caressing his fingers. "Rain?" "I'll check." Gomez stepped through the French doors and stuck his hand out. Suddenly something rather heavy fell into it. Gomez pulled his hand back and discovered he'd caught the baby. He stepped back into the bedroom. "Look, darling, the baby," he said. "Where did you find it?" Morticia asked. "It fell into my hand," Gomez said. "It must have fallen off the roof," Morticia said. "I wonder what it was doing up there." Gomez scratched his head. "The children!" Morticia gasped. "Cara mia!" Gomez muttered in astonishment. The situation was more serious than he'd thought. "Oh, dear." Morticia hugged herself and shivered. Gomez pressed the child close to his chest. "Should we say something to them?" Morticia shook her head sadly. "I've tried." "Then what shall we do?" Morticia turned to her dressing table and pulled open the drawer. From inside she took out a thin magazine printed on newsprint. "This came in the mail a few days ago." "Someone sent it to us?" Gomez was puzzled. "We haven't received a piece of mail in years." "I think there's a new mailman," Morticia said. "Anyway, it's something called a Penny Saver." Gomez walked over and took a closer look at the magazine. He smiled. "Well, darling, that's one area where we clearly have no worries. As you know, the vault in the basement is filled with gold doubloons.

There's enough down there to keep the family quite comfortable for many generations to come." "Oh, it's not the money," Morticia said. She opened the Penny Saver. "Listen to this: 'Are you a new mother who is experiencing difficulty? Sleep problems? Depression? Sibling rivalry? Child or spousal abuse? Child psychologist Dr. Maria Whalen-Shaffler conducts a New Moms Support Group every Monday. New moms are welcome to attend.'" "Hmmmm." Gomez pondered this. "Do you think it might help to send Wednesday and Pugsley to see her?" "I thought of that," Morticia said. "But do you remember what they did that time we took them to the dentist?" "They strapped him in his chair and removed most of his teeth." Gomez smiled at the memory. "I'm not sure I want to introduce them to Dr. Whalen-Shaffler just yet," Morticia said. "Perhaps I'll go first."

Chapter 6

A few days later Lurch dropped off Morticia in front of a paint store in town. Holding the baby in her arms, she climbed the stairs over the store and found herself in Dr. Whalen-Shaffler's waiting room. Children's toys were scattered around the floor, and the walls were covered with large posters of animals and pastoral scenes. Morticia was just starting to have doubts about coming there when a plump woman came to the door. The woman wore thick glasses and had a rosy complexion. She was wearing a Peruvian mohair poncho and heavy handmade ceramic jewelry. "Welcome," she said, clasping her hands together as if she were very pleased. "I'm Dr. Whalen-Shaffler, and you are ... ?" "Morticia Addams." Dr. Whalen-Shaffler came over and gently parted the black shawl protecting the baby. "And who's this?" "This is Pubert," Morticia said. They'd finally named the baby the night before. Dr. Whalen-Shaffler stuck her finger toward the baby as if to tickle his chin. "Uh, I wouldn't do that," Morticia said, stepping back. "He likes to bite." "Well, please come in and join the group," the psychologist said, holding open the door.

Morticia stepped into the room. Half a dozen new mothers were already there, each with a baby in her arms or strapped into a Snugli pressed against her chest. Morticia smiled pleasantly and sat down in a chair. Across from her Dr. Whalen-Shaffler sat down and placed her hands in her lap. "Welcome," she said. "I'm Dr. Whalen-Shaffler and this is my New Moms Support Group. Your New Moms Support Group. Having a new baby is a miracle and a minefield. And no one understands that better than another new mom. Or a licensed therapist with two cats. Let's begin by just going around the room and introducing ourselves." A young woman to Morticia's right spoke up. "Hi, I'm Judy Morgan, and this is Rebecca Marjorie." She held up a pink-cheeked, healthy-looking little baby in brand-new pink and green corduroy togs. "We're all very sorry," Morticia said sincerely. "Really." Judy Morgan gave Morticia a puzzled look, and then continued. "My baby is a joy. She's just perfect. But my husband says I get too anxious, and won't let her out of my sight. Do any of you have that problem?" "I know just how you feel," Morticia said. "Last week my baby was missing for three days." The other mothers stared at her with wide eyes. "For the first two I was fine," Morticia assured them. "But by Friday—I was, frankly, upset. I looked everywhere—the swamp, the crypt, the trunk of the car. And do you know where he was?" "Where?" Dr. Whalen-Shaffler asked, looking aghast. "The attic. Locked in a steamer trunk, safe and sound," Morticia said. She turned to Judy Morgan and, in a comforting voice, said, "So don't worry. Babies are like mildew. They always come back." Dr. Whalen-Shaffler cleared her throat. "Uh, Mrs. Addams, just what is your new-mom problem?" "Well, my problem really concerns my other two children," Morticia confided to the group. "They're very jealous of the baby. Has that happened to anyone else?" "What do your children do?" the psychologist asked. "Well, the usual," Morticia replied. "They've tied the baby to the lightning rod. They've left him on the road, covered with leaves. Oh, and just this morning, there he was in the garage, covered with honey and red ants." The others' jaws dropped. They were positively appalled. Morticia smiled ruefully. "Kids." "This sounds very serious," Dr. Whalen-Shaffler said to Morticia. "A communication issue. You have to reach out to your children, be completely open. You are risking critical dysfunction. To the older children and the newborn. Is he adjusting? Is there trauma?" "Let's hope," Morticia replied. When Morticia got home she found Gomez eager to hear how the session went. "Well, dear, I'm not really sure," Morticia told him. "Not sure?" Gomez frowned. "What happened?" "We all talked about our problems, and afterwards, Dr. Whalen-Shaffler told me that she didn't think I needed the support her group offered." "That's good!" Gomez brightened. "Yes, but the psychologist did say we should try to communicate with the children," Morticia said. "She said it was important that we ask them to express their feelings." "Sounds like an excellent suggestion," Gomez said. "Why don't we call the whole family together and we'll all express our feelings." Morticia always appreciated Gomez's enthusi asm. In short order the whole family was assembled in the great room. Wednesday and Pugsley sat in chairs facing the rest of the family. Morticia held the baby. Lurch, Uncle

Fester, and Granny sat behind Morticia and Gomez. "Why must we sit this way?" Wednesday asked. "I think it's a more relaxed situation this way," her father explained. "Are you going to ask us questions?" Pugsley asked. "Children, why do you hate the baby?" Gomez said. "We don't hate him," Pugsley said. "We just want to play with him." "Especially his head," Wednesday added. "Children," Gomez said patiently. "Do you think we love the baby more than we love you?" "Yes," Wednesday and Pugsley answered in uni-son. "Do you think that when a new baby arrives, one of the other children has to die?" Morticia asked. "Yes," Wednesday and Pugsley again replied. "Well, that's just not true," said Granny. "Not anymore." "It's just sibling rivalry," Fester said. "Gomez, do you remember what we were like? I hated you." "I despised you," Gomez replied.

"I choked him until he lost consciousness and had to be put on a respirator," Fester told the others proudly. "I tied him to a tree and pulled out four of his permanent teeth!" Gomez recalled with glee. "Brother!" Fester cried. "Brother!" Gomez responded. The two of them stood up and embraced. Slowly the embrace became a clinch. Then Gomez picked up Fester and threw him upside down against the wall. He quickly pulled out a set of fiendishly sharp knives and hurled them at his brother with great precision, pinning Fester to the wall by his clothing. "Children?" Fester said. "You see?" "It's a natural part of our lives," Gomez tried to explain. "But you only threw knives around him," Pugsley said. "You didn't throw any into him." "That's just the point," Gomez said. "You may feel like killing your brother, but you'll never really do it." "You try to come as close as you can," Fester said. "Why?" Wednesday asked. "Because your brother is a very important part of your lives," said Gomez. "Without him you'd feel empty." Wednesday gave Pugsley a dubious glance and then turned back. "We didn't feel empty before you had him," she said to her mother. "Believe me, darlings," Morticia sighed, "it's different now." The family meeting ended with Wednesday and Pugsley agreeing to be nicer to the baby. As a treat Morticia even let them take care of him. Meanwhile Gomez thought Morticia could use some night air. The stresses of a house filled with children were clearly weighing on her. "To the cemetery?" Gomez asked as they stepped out into the foggy evening. He slid his arm through hers. "Where else?" Morticia replied. "Oh, let's see," Gomez said. "There's the mortuary or the toxic dump . . . and it's been years since we visited the tar pit." "Oh, Gomez," Morticia said with a sigh. "You're such a kidder." They reached the cemetery and walked among the family monuments. The concrete vultures, the distant cousin whose arms had been ripped off by an angry mob, the two-headed aunt who'd been burned at the stake ... it all made for such a comforting scene. Gomez stopped by their favorite tombstone. "Here, my darling?"

"Of course." Morticia sat on the cold marble headstone. She and Gomez gazed longingly at each other as bats fluttered above. "Oooowwwwooooo!" Fester's howl pierced the air. "Oh, dear," Morticia said with a sigh. "I know." Gomez nodded sadly. "It's getting worse. It used to be just once in a while for fifteen minutes or half an hour. Now it's practically every night from dusk till dawn." "I wish there was something we could do for him," Morticia said. "I know," Gomez said. "There must be someone out there who can love Fester," Morticia said. "Yes," Gomez said. Morticia smiled at him in the dark. "You're a good brother, Gomez." "Ah, and look at you," Gomez replied, taking her hand and squeezing it. "Midnight, moonlight, surrounded by death." "It's been too long," Morticia smiled. "We let too many unimportant things get in the way," Gomez said. "And important things," Morticia said, "like the children." "Yes, yes," said Gomez. "I suppose they must be asleep by now." "This early?" Morticia seemed surprised. Familiar voices drifted toward them through the mists. "Have you got him?" Pugsley asked. "Yes, here," said Wednesday. "Do it." "Hold him still."

Bang! A shot rang out through the cool night air. "You missed!" Wednesday shrieked. Gomez and Morticia smiled. "Wednesday. Pugsley," Morticia said fondly. "The baby," Gomez said with an amused look. "I suppose we're just like any family in the world," Morticia said. "Meanwhile you and I have the whole night," Gomez said, sliding his arm around her waist. "Yes, the night!" Morticia laid her head gently on his shoulder. "The chilly air," Gomez whispered passionately, "the tombstones, the rotting flesh—how it becomes you, darling." "Someday," Morticia promised. The cemetery became quiet. Now Gomez and Morticia heard sounds coming from the house. "Here, catch!" Wednesday called. "I don't want him," Pugsley shouted. Crash! Somewhere in the house a large pane of glass shattered. "One house, three children, so many windows," Morticia said with a sigh. "You're still worried?" Gomez asked. Morticia nodded. "My darling," Gomez said. "It's you I'm worried about. The stress. All this squabbling." "Oh, I'll be fine," Morticia replied, resting a reassuring hand on his thigh. "I'm just like any modern

woman trying to have it all. A loving husband. A family. I just wish I had more time to . . . seek out the dark forces and join their hellish crusade. That's all." Gomez's eyes went wide. "You can! You shall! So it must be!" "But how?" Morticia asked.

Chapter 7

In the days that followed, Gomez arranged for a procession of nannies to parade through the front door of the Addams home. And if they were lucky, they survived long enough to parade back out, never to return. There was Heather, the pleasant, young Swiss au pair who wanted to talk to the children about the environment and who was especially keen on forest fires. Unfortunately, her concern was with preventing them. Then there was Mrs. Wilfred, a chirpy, older English nanny who wanted to play puppets until Wednesday's puppet demanded her immortal soul in return for cleaning up her room. And then there was Mrs. Montgomery, who fainted at the sight of a special snake-head dinner Granny had prepared. And Miss Faith, who managed to escape by crawling out the window and shimmying down a rope made of knotted sheets. One evening, after a day in which several more nannies came and went, Morticia found Gomez in his study speaking on his antique phone. "Yes, yes," Gomez was saying, "three children, one of them a newborn. No, no, just some light housekeeping. No cooking. Oh, yes, they're wonderful, well-behaved children. No, you won't have any trouble with them at all. What's that? You're not a morning person? Thank God! Neither are we. Well, yes, good, then we'll see you tomorrow. Yes, thank you. Good-bye, Miss Jellinsky." Gomez hung up. Morticia slid onto the bearskin sofa beside his desk. "Grrrrr." The bear growled, but Morticia shushed him. "Well, I think I've found her this time, Morticia," Gomez said excitedly. "Oh, Gomez, I do appreciate your efforts, but what's the use?" Morticia said glumly. "Even if you find them, they never stay more than a few hours." "This one will!" Gomez declared. "I know you mean well, my darling," said Morticia. "But perhaps we're better off without a nanny. In a few years Wednesday will be old enough to help with the baby. I can wait that long to find the dark forces and join

their hellish crusade. These things don't disappear overnight." "But you don't understand," Gomez said. "The nanny who's coming tomorrow is going to be great!" "How do you know?" Morticia asked. "Did you call her references?" "She said she'd bring the letters when she came," Gomez said. "I'm telling you, Morticia, she sounds wonderful. I know this one will stay!" The next day, the doorbell rang and Lurch went to answer it. Standing outside was a woman in her early thirties. She was blond and her voluptuous curves were barely concealed inside the tight white uniform she wore. Lurch stared at the young woman, who stared back at him. They were both somewhat stunned by the other's appearance. "Hi!" Debbie Jellinsky said. Lurch blinked.

"Addams residence?" she asked. Lurch blinked again. Debbie leaned inside the doorway and looked around. "Oooooo, it's old," she said of the house. "And big!" An elegant-looking woman in black appeared at the top of the stairs. "Lurch?" she called down the stairs. Lurch turned and stared up at her with a dazed look on his face. "Hi!" Debbie waved up at the woman. "I'm Debbie Jellinsky from the agency." "The agency?" Morticia frowned. "But they claimed no one else was available." "Surprise," Debbie said brightly. "I've been out of town. Are you the mom?" "I am Mrs. Addams," Morticia replied. "I love your dress," Debbie said. "It's so tight." "Thank you," Morticia said. A handsome man wearing a maroon smoking jacket entered the hall and approached Lurch and Debbie. "Gomez, I believe we may have a new nanny," Morticia said. "Miss Jellinsky." "Deb," Debbie said, as Gomez shook her hand. She turned back to Morticia. "Isn't he a lady-killer?" "Acquitted," Gomez said with a smile. Debbie laughed. "Oh, a wit!" Gomez beamed proudly. "I can show you all my references," Debbie said, and started to go through her purse. "So you'll know I'm not a homicidal maniac." "Of course you're not," said Morticia. "You're too young," said Gomez. Debbie gave him the slightest puzzled look, but quickly covered it with a smile. "So I suppose you'd like to see our son," Morticia said. "Love to!" Debbie gasped. "Well, then, please come up," Morticia said. "He's in the nursery." Debbie started to climb the stairs, followed by Gomez. Each step of the stairs creaked. "Sounds like these steps need oiling," Debbie said. "Oh, no, never!" Gomez replied. "It took us years to develop these creaks. Why, a house doesn't feel like a home until it creaks." "Of course," Debbie said with a smile. She reached the top of the stairs and, along with Morticia and Gomez, started down a long, dim hall lined with rich brown wainscoting. "Now, I don't know what my husband told you about our son," Morticia said. "But he's a very special child." "Oh, I know, Mrs. Addams," Debbie replied. "That's what every mother says about her son." "The nursery's just up here," Gomez said. Inside the nursery, Morticia watched as Debbie paused for a moment to take in the bizarre wallpaper, the tattered drapes, and cracked windows. Meanwhile Gomez lifted the baby out of the black-lined crib. "Ohhh!" Debbie gasped. "Is that the little critter?" "Oh, no," Morticia said. "This is our baby." "He's adorable!" Debbie said. "He's perfect! What's his name?"

"It was agony," Morticia said. "We went through all the books, all the usual baby names." "Lucifer," Gomez said. "Benito," added Morticia. • "Mao," said Gomez. "And then we came to our senses," Morticia said. "We realized we needed something simple. Something a child could live with." "Pubert," Gomez said proudly. "Pubert," Debbie repeated slowly. "Family name?" "Yes," said Gomez. "He's named after his greatgrandfather Pubert Pendragon Addams the third." "Pubert," Debbie said. "I like it. It's filthy." Gomez and Morticia exchanged a glance. Morticia could see that her husband was impressed. "May I?" Debbie held out her arms toward the baby. "Grrrrrr..." Pubert growled softly. "Your blouse," Gomez said. "Is it flammable?" Debbie shook her head. "GRRRR..." Pubert growled more loudly. They heard a low rumble around them, and the sound of glass tinkling. "You've had your shots?" Morticia asked. "Measles, mumps, rabies?" Debbie nodded. The room began to shake. The entire house started to creak and groan. "I just love babies," Debbie gushed. "They're just so sweet and pink and innocent. I just want to grab 'em and squeeze until there's not a breath left in their tiny little bodies!" Gomez took Morticia aside and whispered, "She's almost too good to be true!" "I know," Morticia whispered back. "I hope she's not just saying all these things because she knows it's what we want to hear." Gomez gestured down at Pubert, who was still in his arms. "Well, I guess this is the most important test." Morticia nodded. "Go ahead." The house was still rumbling and the room was shaking. Gomez stepped toward Debbie and held out Pubert. It sounded like an earthquake was occurring right below them. The room began to shake so hard that pieces of plaster were falling from the ceiling. Gomez and Morticia looked upward with worried expressions on their faces. Debbie took Pubert in her arms. She cuddled the baby close to her bosom. "Hello, Pubert," she said softly. "I love you." The room stopped shaking. Gomez and Morticia breathed a sigh of relief.

Chapter 8

From the nursery they proceeded to Wednesday's room. "The children's names are Wednesday and Pugsley," Morticia explained. "They're very close." "They play together all the time," Gomez added. "Don't they have any other friends?" Debbie asked. "Pugsley had a friend once," Gomez said. "I forget what happened." "I thought they used him for a laboratory experiment," Morticia said. "What about play dates?" Debbie asked. "Play dates?" Morticia scowled. "I'm not sure what that means." "Well, a play date is when one of the kids goes over to someone else's house and plays," Debbie explained. "And then, the next time, that child comes to your house. You sort of take turns." "That's odd," Morticia said. "I've never heard of such a thing. Who arranges it?" "Usually the mothers or the nannies," Debbie said. "Well, none of the mothers from the children's schools have ever called to ask for one here," Morticia said. She stopped outside a door. A sign on it stated: NO ENTRY

violators will be mutilated "Wednesday?" Morticia knocked on the door. "Go away," a child's voice shouted from inside. "We'd like you to meet the new nanny," Gomez said. "Forget it," a boy's voice yelled. "Children, have you forgotten your manners?" Morticia asked. "Why bother?" a girl's voice said. "She'll be gone by tomorrow like all the others." "Not this one," Gomez said. "I can tell she's here to stay." "We're coming in, children." Morticia reached for the doorknob and turned it. The door opened. Debbie took a step into the room, but Gomez quickly grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. A second later a large sword fell from inside the doorway. Had Debbie been standing there, she would have been sliced in half. "It's safe now," Gomez said. Debbie stepped into the room. Like most of the other rooms, the windows were covered with tattered black drapes. Scattered around this room were dozens of dolls, almost all of them missing heads and/or limbs. Teddy bears and other stuffed animals were pinned to the walls by arrows, and Debbie couldn't help noticing that Wednesday's bed was small and coffin-shaped. In the middle of the room a Cabbage Patch doll dangled on a noose from a lighting fixture. The doll's

mouth had been taped shut. Wednesday and Pugsley were standing near the dangling doll. Both wore protective welding masks and held bright, hissing acetylene torches. "Children, this is Miss Jellinsky," Morticia said. "She will be your new nanny. What do you say?" "Be afraid," Wednesday said, flipping up the front of her mask. "Be very afraid." Debbie kneeled down in front of both children. "Look at you," she said, "all cooped up in the house with a new baby. It's not easy, is it?" "No," said Pugsley. "Why, I bet sometimes you wish it was still just the two of you," Debbie said. "Or less," Wednesday said ominously, glancing at Pugsley and aiming her torch at him. "Well, don't you worry," Debbie said. "Everything's going to be just fine." "How do you know?" Pugsley asked. "Maybe we don't want things to be fine," said Wednesday. Debbie just smiled and stood up. She turned to Gomez and Morticia. "Such sweet, bright children. I love them." Suddenly Debbie felt a hand alight on her shoulder. For a moment she froze. "Thing," Morticia said with a smile. "Stop that." Debbie looked over her shoulder and found a human hand on it. One of its fingers caressed her cheek. "He likes you," Gomez said. Debbie smiled at Thing. Then she took his forefinger in her mouth in a most sensuous way. Thing vibrated with delight. "I'm good with my hands," Debbie said to Gomez with a wink. From Wednesday's room they returned to the front hall and stood by the grand staircase. Debbie noticed an overweight, bald man hiding behind a column and peeking at her. "What a wonderful family," Debbie said. "Although there's one fella I haven't met yet." Tentatively the man crept out from behind the column. He had dark rings around his eyes, and Debbie detected a somewhat rancid odor in the air around him. "Hi there, mister," Debbie said. The man's mouth fell open. "Your nephew?" Debbie asked Gomez. "My brother," said Gomez. "No." Debbie couldn't get over this. Meanwhile, Fester once again backed behind the column. "Fester, come out here," Morticia said. She turned to Debbie. "He's very shy. Fester, this is Miss Jellinsky, our new nanny." So this was Fester Addams! Debbie thought as Fester came out from behind the column. "Hello, Fester," Debbie said. She turned to Morticia. "These Addams men, where do you find them?" "It has to be damp," Morticia replied. Debbie gave Fester the warmest and most open smile she could muster. Fester responded with bulging eyes. A little bit of drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He could feel his insides churning as if he were about to be hit by a monstrous bout of intestinal flu. She was beautiful! And she smiled at him. It was enough to make his head spin. Suddenly he knew, without a doubt, that he was in love. Gomez rubbed his hands together. "So, uh, Miss Jellinsky, you've met the family. We've discussed your pay

and hours. I think we've just about covered everything." "Great," Debbie said enthusiastically. "I can't wait! I'll start first thing tomorrow!" Without warning Pubert came hurtling down toward them from above. Only Gomez's quick reflexes saved the child from smashing headfirst into the floor. Everyone looked up at the second-floor railing, where Pugsley and Wednesday stood. Gomez hugged Pubert to his chest. "Why not start tonight?" he asked. Later that night Debbie returned to the Addams home with a suitcase. Morticia took her downstairs to her new room. "I really think you'll love it down here," Morticia said as they walked down a hallway lined in stone and lit with torches. "It's very peaceful and it's away from the rest of the family. We understand that you'll need some private time." "That's very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Addams," Debbie said. Morticia pushed open a creaking metal door and stepped into a dark room that smelled of mildew. "This will be your room. It's very special." Debbie entered the room. It was barely larger than a closet. The air felt cold, and the walls and floor were made of stone. High on one wall was a small, barred window. Below it was a narrow iron bed. Across from the bed was a small sink and a toilet without a seat. "It is special," Debbie said. Debbie lay down on the iron bed and tested it. Suddenly iron restraints popped out from around the bed and snapped down around Debbie's wrists, ankles, waist, and neck. She was immobilized. As she watched in stunned amazement, a feather descended on a rope just over her nose and started to tickle it. Then a drop of water hit her on the head, followed by another and another, in a crude but effective imitation of Chinese water torture. "Can I tell you a secret?" Morticia asked. "Oh, yes, please," Debbie replied eagerly. "This is the room where my aunt Salome went mad." "What happened?" Debbie asked as more drops of water splashed onto her forehead, and the feather continued to tickle her nose. "No one knows," Morticia replied. Upstairs, in his bedroom, Fester lay on his horsehair mattress, wearing his nightshirt and stocking cap. As was his nightly habit, he was eating rancid cookies with curdled milk. Gomez, dressed in blue silk pajamas and his maroon smoking jacket, sat on the edge of the bed. Three candles flickered on the dressing table. "So we've hired Miss Jellinsky?" Fester asked eagerly. "She's a gem, don't you think?" "She's ..." A million adjectives raced through Fester's brain. "She's perfect!" "Yes," Gomez agreed. "And she'll make the perfect nanny for my perfect children. And now my darling wife will have the time she needs to seek out the dark forces." "Yes!" Fester nodded. Gomez smiled at the thought of how happy his family was going to be. "Oh, Fester, I'm such a lucky man. I hope that someday you'll know the indescribable joy of having children .. . and paying someone else to raise

them." "But first—wouldn't I have to get married?" Fester asked. "Of course," Gomez said. "But you're just a boy. There's plenty of time. You'll meet someone very special. Someone who won't mind your rash. Someone who won't press charges." "I'd like that," Fester said with a smile. "You rascal!" Gomez stood up. As he was about to leave, he noticed the corner of a magazine sticking out

from under the horsehair mattress. He reached down and pulled it out. "Oh, and what's this?" Fester's jaw dropped. Gomez stood up and let the centerfold unfold. Together Fester and Gomez stared at the photograph adoringly and said, "Mom." Gomez crossed to the door. "See you in the morning, Fester." He smiled and waved. Fester waited until he heard the creaking sounds of his brother going down the stairs. Then he picked up the magazine and gazed lovingly at the centerfold of his dear old mother. Alas, she was gone, and a photograph, no matter how detailed or touched up, couldn't replace the wonderful feeling of pressing up against cool, slightly rigor-mortised flesh. Fester sighed, and gazed at the flickering candles on the dresser. He felt an excruciating pang of loneliness, and the presence of Miss Jellinsky in the house only made it worse. It was so tantalizing. She was so perfect and yet, for him, so unattainable. Fester took a deep breath and trembled as he exhaled. The excruciating pain of loneliness had been replaced by the excruciating pain of unrequited love. In the master bedroom Morticia sat at her vanity while Thing polished her fingernails. "Oh, I know, Thing," she said. "It really is so hard to get good help these days." Thing gestured toward her long, shapely fingers. "The cuticles?" Morticia said. "I don't know. What do you think?" Thing gestured again. "Yes, I think you're right," Morticia said. "Let's wait until next time. Anyway, that's why I think Debbie is such a find. I do hope you like her." Thing hopped up and down. "Oh, I'm so glad," Morticia said. She reached over and petted Thing gently. "I'm so glad you're not the jealous type, Thing. You'll never have to worry about anyone ever replacing you in our hearts ... or in our hands." The door opened and Gomez strolled in. "Did you tuck Fester in, darling?" Morticia asked. "Of course," Gomez replied, sitting down on the bed and slipping off his slippers. "Poor old boy. I think he's

become obsessed with yearning for companionship." "Poor Fester," Morticia sighed. "If only he didn't have that rash covering ninety percent of his body." "But no one can see it unless he's undressed," Gomez said. "That's true," said Morticia. "But I think it's on his mind constantly. It inhibits him." Gomez lay down on the bed, and Thing continued to work on Morticia's nails. "How did Debbie like her room?" Gomez asked. "I think she really likes it," Morticia said. "I told her it was one of the most special rooms in the house, and she seemed to agree." "She appears to be a young woman of uncommon taste and wisdom," Gomez said. "I feel that way, too," said Morticia. "Now that we have her, I feel so at ease. The children really took to her." "Like leeches," Gomez agreed. Suddenly Morticia turned away from the vanity and gazed at her husband with a troubled expression. "Darling, now that we're... old married folks with three little ones, do you think ... we've grown beyond passion?" At the hint of an intimate conversation, Thing quickly finished Morticia's nails, screwed the tops on the bottles, and scampered out of the room. Gomez sat up on the bed, alarmed. "My darling!" he gasped incredulously. "Do you think that, for us, amour is a thing of the past?" Morticia asked. "Cara mia?" Gomez was seized by uncontrollable trembling.

"Do you feel that perhaps that portion of our lives is over?" Morticia asked, turning back to the vanity, her head bowed with worry. Gomez was so upset, he couldn't speak. He looked around wildly, then began to crawl up the wall and onto the ceiling, like a human fly. Morticia had her back to him as she continued to muse over the possibility of lost passion. "Sometimes I wonder if physical desire is fleeting or forever," she speculated. "Is the fire only a figment? Has the fascination become farewell?" The thought was too much for Gomez to endure. "OOOHHHHHAAAAAAAHHHHH!" he bellowed in pain at the mere thought of life without lust. "Is our love in the autumn of its years?" Morticia asked. "Est-ce que l'amour est morte? The flame, forgotten? The fever—finis?" Thunk! In a frenzy of passion, Gomez lost his grip on the ceiling and crashed to the floor at Morticia's feet. He grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pressed it to his quivering lips. "My ecstasy!" he cried, gazing up worshipfully at his statuesque wife.

Morticia smiled down at him and patted his head. "Mon sauvage... So you still desire me? After all this time?" "Oh, yes!" Gomez gasped. "Little old me?" Morticia teased coquettishly. "The old ball and chain?" "Forever!" Gomez nodded frantically. Morticia gave him her most seductive smile. "I'll get them."

Chapter 9

The family was up early the next day. Aware that Pubert was playing on the first floor, Wednesday and Pugsley tied a rope to a small anvil and swung it over the second-floor railing. "See where he is," Wednesday whispered while she held the rope. Pugsley looked down over the railing. "Directly below!" he whispered back. "One," Wednesday whispered. "Two," whispered Pugsley.

"Three!" they whispered together. Wednesday let go of the rope. Just at that second Thing scampered past on the floor below. Pubert crawled after him. Crash! The anvil smashed into the floor exactly where Pubert had been sitting a split second before. "Darn!" Pugsley muttered. Debbie entered the room and picked up the crawling infant. Morticia and Gomez were heading for the front door. They seemed to be in a hurry. "Take good care of Pubert," Morticia said. "We'll be out most of the morning." "Fester!" Gomez called as he pulled on his jacket. "Fester, come along!" But Fester was nowhere in sight. "Oh, where is he?" Gomez said. "Well be late!" "Where are you going?" Debbie asked innocently. "It's time to see the accountant," Gomez replied in a distracted manner, and then shouted, "Fester!" again. Gomez pulled open the front door. "Ah, there he is!" Fester appeared in a tattered brown coat. "Say good-bye to Debbie," Gomez said, but Fester raced past her with his head down and went out the door. Gomez turned back to Debbie and shrugged. "As you know, he's shy." "That's perfectly okay," Debbie said with a wink. "Here are all the important numbers," Morticia said, handing Debbie a piece of paper. "Police, fire department, pest control, and morgue." "Have fun!" Debbie stood in the doorway and waved. She watched them get into the Rolls Phantom and drive off. Then she closed the door. "The accountant, hmm ..." she said to herself with a smile. "Fester has a lot of money." Carrying Pubert on her hip, she started down a long, gloomy hallway lined with the heads of lions, tigers, and elephants. They passed a series of glass cases filled with dioramas of birds, wolves, and sea turtles in their natural habitats. Then came a diorama in which a small stuffed bear cub stood with his paws pressed against the glass, a terrified expression on his face. Debbie stopped and studied the case with a frown. It appeared as if the bear cub had written Help Me! in blood on the glass. Debbie shook her head. No, it couldn't be. She continued down the hall and came to Gomez's study. Looking around to make sure no one had followed her, she quietly opened the door and went in. The room was like many of the others, dark and dusty and filled with bizarre antiques. Rich mahogany wainscoting lined the lower third of each wall, while the upper part of the walls was covered with a pale yellow wallpaper with a poison ivy design. Debbie knew it wouldn't be easy to do what she wanted to do as long as Pubert was loose, so it was fortunate when she found a small ball and chain to lock around his ankle. With Pubert out of the way, Debbie went to a large wooden file cabinet and pulled it open. She thumbed through the files inside until she came to a section of financial ledgers. Each ledger had Fester Addams typed on top, and then a financial category: Stocks and Bonds, Deeds, Gold Bullion, Treasury Bills, IRAs. Debbie inspected each ledger, then smiled to herself. It was just as she'd read in the newspaper stories. He's loaded! Something creaked behind her. Debbie quickly spun around. Her eye caught an old suit of armor-just the place for someone to hide while they spied on her! Debbie quickly crossed the room and lifted the helmet's visor. There was no one inside. Her eye caught a portrait of a creepy-looking man holding a candle. Had someone cut the eyes out so they could watch through it? Debbie inspected the portrait. No, the painted eyes were there.

"What a strange old house," Debbie muttered to herself. "So drafty. It's really... no place for children. No place at all." Having confirmed her beliefs about Fester's wealth, Debbie released Pubert from the ball and chain and left the room. No sooner had she gone than part of the wall moved. Painted like dark mahogany wainscoting from the neck down and like yellow poison ivy wallpaper from the neck up, Wednesday stepped away from the wall. She'd sensed that Debbie was up to no good, and she'd been right. From Gomez's study, Debbie took Pubert to the nursery to dress him. Like many babies, Pubert thought it was some kind of game and was very squirmy. "Hold still, you little brat!" Debbie snarled as she tried to get him dressed. "He's not a brat," Wednesday said. Debbie twisted around and saw her standing in the doorway. "Of course not," she said, forcing a smile onto her face. "He's an adorable little baby." "Oh, fine, rub it in," Wednesday replied. "We're getting him ready for a nice walk," Debbie said. "Would you like to come?" "Are you really a nanny?" Wednesday asked. "What a question," Debbie said with a smile. "Why did you come here?" Wednesday said without changing her expression. The kid gave Debbie the creeps, but after all, she was just a kid. "To take care of you," she replied. "All of you." "Especially my uncle?" Wednesday asked with a stern look. Inside, Debbie was shaken, but she tried to take the question in stride. Did that little witch know something? Or was it just a lucky guess? "I'm here to take care of Pubert, Pugsley, and you," Debbie replied. "And I'd be glad to help out your parents and uncle in any way I can." Wednesday just stood in the doorway and stared at her. Debbie felt a shiver. She was going to have to do something about this one, and her brother, too. Debbie took Pubert for a long walk, and then put him down for a nap. Later she'd just gotten him up when she heard the grown-ups come back in. She picked up the baby and carried him into the great room, where she joined Morticia and Gomez. "So how did it go?" Morticia asked. "Oh, just great," Debbie said. "Pubert was a perfect baby." Gomez sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that." "And what about the children?" Morticia asked. "The same as always," Debbie said. "Except . . ." "Except what?" Gomez asked. Debbie shook her head. "I shouldn't be telling you this." "Shouldn't tell us?" Gomez frowned. "It's a secret," Debbie explained. "Wednesday and Pugsley swore me to secrecy, the little angels." "Nonsense, Debbie," said Morticia. "You're their nanny. We expect you to betray their confidence." "Well. . ." Debbie let out a big sigh, as if she were reluctant to continue. "Do you know what Wednesday and Pugsley are dying to do? Go to sleep-away camp." Morticia and Gomez turned to each other with incredulous looks. "Camp?"

"It's all they want," Debbie said. "It's all they talked about all morning." "But they've never said anything about it," Gomez said. "I know." Debbie nodded sadly. "They're afraid to ask. They're afraid you'll think they want to leave home because they don't love you." "The poor things," Morticia said with a wistful sigh. "It is a bizarre request." "It's terrifying," said Gomez. "They have their hearts set on it," Debbie said. "I knew you'd want to know. As concerned, caring parents." Morticia turned to her husband. "Oh, Gomez, what do you think?" "How can we say no?" Gomez asked. "Don't even mention it to them," Debbie advised. "Just do it. I'm sure they'll deny everything. But they want to go." She smiled. "God love 'em."

Chapter 10

Weeks passed. The children made numerous attempts on Pubert's life, but all were foiled either by dumb luck or Debbie, who needed to keep the baby alive to proceed with her plans. At the same time, Debbie carefully cultivated Fester's attentions with frequent winks, flattery, and occasional glimpses of her long, shapely legs. On the night before summer camp started, Gomez waited until after dinner to tell the children. Debbie was upstairs, changing Pubert's diaper. "Children," he said, dabbing his lips with a napkin. "I have news for you. Your mother and I have decided to send you away for the summer." "To a leper colony?" Pugsley asked excitedly. "I'm afraid not," Gomez said. "We are going to send you to Camp Chippewa." "I've never heard of it," Wednesday said. "It's a summer camp, darlings," Morticia said. "Your father and I know you're both dying to go. We don't understand it, but we've decided to grant you your wish and hope the experience will get camp out of your systems for good." Wednesday and Pugsley stared at each other, and then back at their parents. "Is there any way we can get out of it?" Wednesday asked. "You could break a leg or suffer acute lead poisoning," Gomez said. "Otherwise we're going?" Pugsley asked. Morticia nodded. "Lurch will drive us there in the morning." "May we be excused?" Wednesday asked. Gomez allowed them to leave the table. The children began to climb the stairs to their rooms. "I'm not going," Wednesday said. "I'm sure it's all Debbie's idea. She just wants to get rid of us." "What should we do?" Pugsley asked. "We'll run away," his sister said. "But if we do that, Debbie will still get rid of us," Pugsley pointed out. "For a while," Wednesday said. "But then we can come back. Once we go to camp, we may never be able to come back." In their rooms, the children packed for their escape. Wednesday packed a large steamer trunk. Pugsley chose a large green duffel bag. Later they dragged them to the secret chutes in their closets that opened outside near the cemetery. The night was dark and misty, with a slight chill in the air. The steamer trunk and duffel bag tumbled out of the chutes, followed by the children. Wednesday and Pugsley stood up and dusted themselves off, then began to drag their luggage away from the house. "Children?" a voice called out in the dark.

Wednesday and Pugsley turned and saw Uncle Fester inserting an IV tube into a vine. "Where are you going?" Uncle Fester asked. "We're running away," Wednesday informed him. "Mother and Father want to kill us. They want to drop us into a pot of boiling oil. They want us to experience a vision of hell." "Summer camp?" Fester guessed. Wednesday nodded. "Why did they listen to that woman?" she asked bitterly. "That woman?" Fester repeated, surprised. "Was it Debbie's idea?" "That's what I think," said Wednesday. "Well, then, maybe it's for the best," Fester said. "She's very wise. And very caring." "And blond," Wednesday added. "Do you like her, Uncle Fester?" Pugsley asked. "No, no ... well... No! I don't like her. Well, maybe a little. Oh, she's nice... for a nanny. Actually, I think she's the tops!" "Get a grip, Uncle Fester," Wednesday said derisively. "Children, is that you?" their father called. "Oh, darn," Pugsley muttered. "Yes, they're over here, Gomez," Uncle Fester said. "They were just telling me how they were about to run away." "Gee, thanks, Uncle Fester," Wednesday said angrily. Gomez came around the side of the house. "Why, hello, children. Where were you planning to run away to?" "Anyplace as long as it's not Camp Chippewa," Wednesday said. "But that's where you're going tomorrow," Gomez said. "That's just the point," Pugsley said. "We don't want to go." "Oh, it's just precamp jitters," Gomez said with a smile. He picked up Pugsley's duffel bag. "Debbie told us all about how eager you are to go. Come, Fester, let's take the children's luggage inside, and then we'll keep them up late watching old home movies. We wouldn't want them to get too much sleep before traveling." Gomez and Fester lugged the bags inside. Pugsley and Wednesday followed with morose looks on their faces. They arrived at the camp just before noon the following day. Lurch drove the Rolls Phantom under a wooden archway with the words camp Chippewa spelled out in sticks and pinecones. Past that, they could see the wooden bunkhouses and several buildings made of logs. "Rather rustic," Gomez observed.

"Camp Chippewa," said Morticia. "Isn't that charming." "What's a Chippewa?" Pugsley asked. "It's an old Indian word," said Gomez. "It means orphan," said Wednesday. Lurch parked the car outside the camp's main lodge, and the Addamses got out. All around them dozens of families were getting out of cars. Gomez took a deep breath. "Ah, fresh air! The scent of pine!" he exclaimed, pulling a cigar out of his jacket and handing it to Pugsley. "You better have one of these, son." "Wednesday," Morticia said, "look at all the other children—their freckles, their bright little eyes, their eager, friendly smiles." "What should we do?" Wednesday asked.

"You must help them," her mother said. A young girl of about twelve approached. She had long blond hair and was wearing a denim jacket, and jeans with rhinestones lining the seams. "Hi, I'm Amanda Buckman," she said to Wednesday. "Why are you dressed like that?" "Like what?" Wednesday asked. "Like you're going to a funeral," Amanda said. "Why are you dressed like somebody died?" "Wait," Wednesday replied. A man in a blue blazer and a woman in a yellow sundress joined Amanda. "Hi," the man said, offering his hand to Gomez. "Don Buckman, Amanda's father. Isn't this place something else? Very exclusive. A kid has to be extraspecial to get in here. Gifted. Exceptional. Our Amanda has already skipped two grades. How about your boy?" Gomez placed his hands proudly on Pugsley's shoulders. "Just put on probation." Meanwhile the woman in the yellow sundress, Ellen Buckman, had introduced herself to Morticia and struck up a conversation. "We just love Chippewa," she said. "Amanda couldn't wait to come. It's all she talked about for months. Last week we went out and bought her a whole new wardrobe." "How nice," Morticia said. "And this little lady?" Ellen gestured to Wednesday. "Wednesday's at that very special age," Morticia said proudly, "when a girl has only one thing on her mind." "Boys?" Ellen asked, kneeling down beside Wednesday. "Homicide," Wednesday replied. Ellen looked slightly shocked, but before she could say anything more, she was interrupted by the shrill bleating sound of a whistle. "Attention, everyone!" the whistle-blower yelled. "Listen up! I'm Gary Granger." Gary was wearing light blue slacks and a white Camp Chippewa polo shirt. He appeared to be in his early thirties; he was tanned, blond, and muscular, with hairy arms and a tuft of hair poking out at his throat. A young blond woman wearing a matching outfit stepped up beside him. "And I'm Becky Granger!" she announced with a gung-ho voice that matched her husband's. "We're the owners and directors here at Camp Chippewa," Gary announced. America's foremost facility for privileged young adults!" "And we're all here to learn, to grow, and to just plain have fun!" said his enthusiastic wife. "Because that's what being privileged is all about!" Gary added. Wednesday pulled a bottle marked "Poison" out of her dress and began to unscrew the cap. But just before she got the bottle to her lips, her mother took it away. "Now, now, Wednesday," Morticia said. Now that the poison was gone, Wednesday had no choice. She watched while Gomez cut down the noose Pugsley attempted to hang himself with, and then said good-bye. Morticia and Gomez got into the car and rode away. The children were sent to their bunks and told to unpack and change into bathing suits. Later Wednesday and Pugsley walked out onto the camp dock, wearing their black, full-length old-fashioned bathing suits. Amanda Buckman was already there, along with a group of other campers.

"Is that your bathing suit?" Amanda asked in a snooty tone. "Is that your overbite?" Wednesday shot back, making it clear she was not about to be intimidated. Tweet! Gary blew his whistle. "Okay, campers, listen up. I'm going to be talking about lifesaving! I know

we're all top-notch little swimmers, so now we get to show our stuff. You all want to earn those certificates you can take home and pin up on your walls to impress your friends. So let's have our first pair of lifesaving buddies. Amanda and Wednesday." Amanda eagerly stepped forward. Wednesday followed reluctantly. "One of you will be the drowning victim," Gary said. "And one of you will be our first lifesaver." Amanda quickly volunteered. "I'll be the victim!" "All your life," Wednesday quipped. "I'm going to be an actress," Amanda said, turning up her nose. "Okay!" Gary clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Amanda, you jump in, swim out a few yards, and start drowning." Amanda obediently jumped in the water. "Help me!" she cried, splashing around like a drowning victim. "Help me! I'm drowning!" Wednesday watched impassively. "Help!" Amanda cried more dramatically. "I'm going to die." "I think she needs help," Gary said to Wednesday. "Let's see. Maybe she'll make it," Wednesday said. "I really think you should save her," Gary said. "I would," Wednesday said. "But I don't swim." "You don't?" Gary looked shocked. Wednesday shook her head. Gary was not amused. Tweeeet! He blew his whistle. "Out of the water, Amanda!" he yelled. "Next team, get ready to drown." Amanda angrily climbed out of the lake and stood dripping wet before Wednesday. "You were supposed to save me," she sputtered. "I know," Wednesday replied with uncharacteristic sweetness. "But the alternative seemed so much more attractive."

Chapter 11

the children out of the house, Debbie found it easier to focus on attracting Fester's attentions. In the nursery, she left the door open and sat in a rocking chair next to the cradle, telling the story of Cinderella to Pubert. "When Cinderella entered the ballroom, everyone at the ball turned and stared at her," she said. " 'Who is that beautiful young woman?' they asked. Even Prince Charming noticed the new arrival. 'Who are you?' he asked her." Debbie paused for a moment. She'd heard a creaking sound in the hallway and now caught a glimpse of Fester standing near the doorway, listening. Debbie smiled to herself and continued her story. " 'My name is Cinderella,' she said to the prince. 'And could you tell me—who is that man over by the punch bowl? That fascinating man. That oddly sensual man. That man who makes me quiver under my bodice. That handsome bald man?'" Outside in the hallway, Fester's eyes widened. Could it be? Was it possible that she was attracted to him? The possibility filled him with such excitement that he could hardly contain himself. He quickly left the nursery and hurried toward Gomez's study. The door was closed, so Fester knocked. "Gomez!" he cried excitedly. "Are you in there?" "Yes," Gomez replied. Fester pushed open the door. Gomez was seated at his desk, signing papers. At the same time, he was throwing darts with his free hand at a target Lurch was holding. Lurch looked very nervous, and with good reason— Gomez wasn't watching where he was throwing the darts. Every time he released a dart, it was up to Lurch to move the target so that the dart scored a bull's-eye. "She's driving me wild!" Fester cried. "Who?" Gomez asked. "Debbie!" Fester said. "Debbie, Debbie, Debbie! Even the sound of her name. Debbie. . . Isn't it beautiful? It makes me think of vinyl. Chemicals." "Truly?" Gomez asked, seemingly staggered. "Fester, has it finally happened? At long last?" "I don't know," Fester said, trembling. "I think so! All these years, I've watched you with Morticia —from windows, doorways, keyholes. I've been happy for you, but I have to confess . . . I've been jealous, too. I've dreamt that someday, against all odds, there might be . .. someone for me." "There's Thing," Gomez said. "I know, but I want more," Fester confessed. "Legs. Elbows. A head. Is that asking so much?" "Two legs?" Gomez replied, weighing the question carefully. "I've seen them!" Fester yelled. "And maybe, just maybe . .. Dare I ask Debbie to dinner? What if she says no? What if she says yes? Oh, Gomez, if I asked her and she said yes, would you come? You and Morticia?" "Of course!" Gomez replied with delight. Pubert had fallen asleep. Debbie quietly left the nursery and went looking for Morticia. She found her in the conservatory standing at an easel, painting. Across the room Thing stood on a pedestal draped in red velvet. "Mrs. Addams?" Debbie said. "Yes, Debbie?" "I hope I'm not disturbing." "I don't find you disturbing at all," Morticia replied. "You could tone down the hair slightly, but that's a matter of personal taste." "No, no," Debbie said. "I meant, am I disturbing your work?" "Oh, no," Morticia said with a smile. Thing waved from the pedestal.

"Could I ask you something of a personal nature?" Debbie asked. "Of course," Morticia said as she continued to paint. "It's just, well, you seem so worldly," Debbie said. "So sophisticated. It's clear that you know everything about love." "Merci," Morticia said. "Anyway," Debbie said, "I was wondering ... is Fester ... seeing anyone?" "You mean, is there a woman in Fester's life?" Morticia shook her head slowly. "Or in his luggage? No, sadly. I've always wondered about that. Fester Addams ... He's bloated. He's pasty. He has that rash that reeks... If I weren't already married ..." "Oh, I know!" Debbie blurted with pretend girlish enthusiasm. Morticia gave her a curious glance. "Debbie?" "Oh, please, go on with your work," Debbie said, blushing slightly. "I didn't mean to interrupt." "It's all right. My hand has fallen asleep." Morticia pointed at the pedestal, where Thing was lying on his back, his fingers pointed upward and twitching as he dreamed. But Debbie's mission had been a success. She'd planted the idea in Morticia's mind that she might be interested in that bulbous brother-in-law of hers. Now it was time to back off. "Did you hear it?" Debbie quickly asked. "Hear what?" Morticia said. "The baby," Debbie said, backing out of the room. "I think he's up." She hurried away. Later that evening Gomez and Morticia sat on a marble bench in the cemetery, listening to the sweet whistle of the breeze blowing through the crypts. "I sense that something's afoot," Gomez said. "Fester?" Morticia guessed. "Debbie?" Gomez countered. "She's blond," Morticia said. "Good with children," Gomez added. "A lovely young woman," Morticia said with a sad shake of her head. "I know, cara mia," Gomez said, feeling crestfallen. "But he loves her. Perhaps it's not for us to judge. After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder." "I'd hoped for so much more for Fester," Morticia said with a sigh. "Someone with breeding. Elegance. Scars." Gomez nodded regretfully. "It's true. Our dear mother, on her deathbed, had only one request: Find Fester a wife. Search far and wide. Drain the swamp." "Still..." Morticia raised her head "Debbie seems devoted to him." "She's very sweet," Gomez said. "I'll do what I can," Morticia said with determination. "Maybe something with her hair." "And for Fester?" Gomez asked. "Oh, Gomez," Morticia gasped, positively awestruck. "Could you?" Gomez gathered up his will. "I'll do it!" "Bravo!" Morticia clasped her hands together. Gomez jumped up and raised his hand in grim determination. "For Fester—a bath!"

Far away at Camp Chippewa the children had settled into their bunks for the night. In Wednesday's bunk the girls lay on their beds in their designer pajamas. It was dark and they were taking turns telling ghost stories. Wednesday lay beneath the covers of her bed, feeling unspeakably bored. She was bored with this dull camp and its dull activities. She was bored with these dull girls and their preoccupation with material things and plastic surgery. "Wednesday?" Amanda said in the dark. "What?" "It's your turn." "My turn to do what?" Wednesday asked absently. "To continue the ghost story," Amanda said. "This is dumb," said Wednesday. "You mean, you can't do it," Amanda taunted her. "No, I mean, it's dumb." "Well, if you can't do it..." Amanda feigned a sigh. "Oh, okay," Wednesday said. "Where did the story leave off?" "The ghost came back and told the girls he would haunt them forever," Amanda said. "Okay," Wednesday said. "The girls weren't very scared, and the ghost knew he would have to think of something much worse than just haunting them forever. So the next night he came back again to the cabin. And this time he said to the campers, 'None of you really believe in me. So I will prove my powers.' And then the next morning, when the campers woke up—all of their old noses had grown back," Wednesday said. "Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" The entire bunk shrieked in real terror.

Chapter 12

A few nights later at the Addams mansion the sound of running water could be heard in an upstairs bathroom. "No, no!" Fester shouted. "Yes, Fester, you must!" Gomez insisted. There was a thud, a crash, and a great splash of water.

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Fester screamed. Later, Gomez entered the master bedroom, where Morticia was dressing for dinner. "How did it go?" Morticia asked as Gomez stripped off his heavy black rubber gloves and black rubber apron. "The washcloths were useless, but the wire brush worked," Gomez said. "I do think we ought to talk to Fester about bathing more often. This once-a-decade routine makes it difficult for him to remember that the soapsuds aren't lethal." "Well, at least it's over," said Morticia. "Now you better hurry and change. We have reservations at nine." Later they all met by the front door and went out to the car. Lurch drove them to the restaurant, which was in an ancient, rotting stone cavern in an extreme state of mossy decay. The tables and chairs were painted in tarnished gold, and the tablecloths were the color of dried blood. Tendrils of brown moss fell from the ceiling, and a sputtering chandelier provided the gloomy lighting. In one corner four decrepit men played Bach on out-of-tune instruments. Gomez, Morticia, Fester, and Debbie sat at a central table. Gomez had chosen an elegant pinstriped zoot suit for the evening. Morticia was dressed in black as usual. Debbie had chosen a tight pink dress with a plunging neckline. Fester was wearing his best charcoal gray sack. Petrified with nervousness, he gnawed on a dinner roll. "What a marvelous place," Debbie said, wiping away a few tendrils of moss that had fallen from the ceiling onto her plate. "It's our favorite bistro," Gomez replied. "We've been coming here for years." "Of course, it's been redone," Morticia said in a slightly disapproving tone. "I wish they wouldn't always feel so compelled to modernize, don't you?" "Oh, yes, I agree absolutely," Debbie said. "And yet, it's just lovely." She glanced at Fester. "Don't you agree?" Fester continued to gnaw on the dinner roll. Flakes of bread crust stuck to his chin, and his eyes darted about the room in a near panic. "Fester?" Gomez said. "Debbie just asked you a question." Fester froze. Uncertain about what to do next, he removed the half-eaten roll from his mouth and offered it to Debbie, who couldn't hide a brief look of revulsion. "It's a quaint French custom," Morticia said quickly, as if to cover up Fester's gaffe. "Sharing half-eaten bread." "Fester is truly continental," Gomez said, eager to change the topic of conversation. "He spent many years abroad." "He speaks twelve languages fluently," Morticia added. "I could tell!" Debbie played along. "You know, when I first saw him, I thought he was from Europe." "You did?" Fester's eyebrows rose. "It's true!" Debbie gasped. After the main course, Morticia rose to go to the ladies' room. "Oh, I'll join you," Debbie said. Together they went to the powder room. Morticia stood before the cracked mirror, reapplying some makeup, while Debbie went to the sink and ran warm water over a paper towel.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Morticia asked. "Oh, yes," Debbie replied. "I just wish Fester were more comfortable."

"He's really a wonderful man," Morticia said. "He's just terribly shy." "Are you sure?" Debbie turned to her. "I just can't tell if he likes me at all." "Oh, of course he does," Morticia said. "He vomited." "That's true," Debbie said, rubbing the wet paper towels over a stain on her dress. "Does he always do that with women he likes?" "Oh, no." Morticia smiled. "Just with you." Meanwhile, out in the restaurant, Fester was miserable. "1 was awful, just awful!" he groaned. "No, you weren't," Gomez said. "You were your wonderful, charming self." "How can you say that?" Fester asked. "I vomited all over her." "So?" "Do you think she minded?" Fester asked. "Of course not!" Gomez gave his brother an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "She adores you." "I know I'm making a mess of things," Fester said miserably, and looked up at his brother with pleading eyes. "Gomez, how do you do it? How can I be like you? How can I be . . . suave?" "Woo her," Gomez said. "Admire her. Make her feel like she's the most sublime creature on earth." "Yes!" Fester saw the wisdom in his brother's words. "That's it!" Morticia and Debbie returned to the table. "We're back," Morticia said brightly. "Noses powdered." "Perfection achieved!" Gomez observed admiringly, and nudged Fester with his elbow. "We are the luckiest brothers on earth. We are unworthy of such splendor. We are undeserving of such radiance!" "That's right!" Fester said, eager to join in. "We should have .. . ugly girls!" Suddenly a stirring chord rose out of the string quartet. Unable to resist the music, Gomez jumped up and offered his hand to Morticia. "Madame?" He bowed. "Monsieur." Morticia curtsied. Gomez led her out to the dance floor and they commenced a torrid, intricate tango. As husband and wife circled each other, exchanging heated glances, the diners watched in silent awe. As Morticia spun into Gomez's arms, the whole restaurant became still, mesmerized by the passion of the dancing couple. Women felt their faces flush. Men swallowed and loosened their neckties. Debbie spit on a napkin and gently dabbed Fester's face. It was the dance of romance. As husband and wife twirled around each other, Morticia played the coy temptress, and Gomez, the enraged bull. To fan the flames of jealousy, Morticia blew a kiss to the violinist.

Instantly enraged, Gomez grabbed a vase and hurled it against the wall. At their table Fester began to feel ignored. He stuck two breadsticks up his nostrils and tapped Debbie on the shoulder. Debbie turned and smiled. Sensing that her date was feeling left out, she placed her hand demurely on the table, beside him. Tentatively and with great yearning, Fester poked it gently with his fork. The dance continued at a fevered pitch. Holding Morticia by the waist, Gomez flung her about the dance floor. They swirled apart with only their hands clasping. Morticia plucked a butter knife from a diner's hand. Spinning back toward her husband, she raised the knife high over her head, threatening to plunge it down into him. But Gomez deftly caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Unable to withstand the overwhelming heat, corks exploded out of champagne bottles all over the restaurant, showering the diners in a glorious fountain of bubbly lust. After returning home from the restaurant, Fester and Debbie strolled among the crypts and tombs. It was dark and late. The mist that hung over the cemetery was heavier than usual. Gomez and Morticia had gone inside to check on the baby. "How you must hate me," Debbie said. "What?" Fester stared at her, totally confused. Debbie stopped and faced him. "Here you are, a debonair man of the world. How I must bore you." "Never!" Fester swore. "You're just saying that," Debbie said. "I'm not!" Fester insisted. "You fascinate me! Captivate me!" "Oh, Fester," Debbie sighed, and reached for his hands. "Oh, Debbie." Fester took a step forward, as if to kiss her on the lips. "Wait." Debbie averted her face and took a step back. "What is it?" Fester asked. Debbie shook her head and stared at the muddy ground. "Fester, before we go any further, I have something to confess, Something I must tell you. I'm . . . I'm a virgin." "You are?" Fester looked shocked. "Yes." Debbie nodded and stared down at the ground. "What's that?" Fester asked. Debbie looked up, surprised. "It's someone who's never experienced . . . physical love." "You mean, with another person?" Fester asked. Debbie nodded. Fester tugged on his earlobe. "Then, Debbie, I have a confession to make as well. I'm one, too!" "You?" Debbie asked incredulously. Fester nodded. "You?" Debbie asked again. "But with your looks and your charm, women must follow you everywhere." "Store detectives," admitted Fester. "Oh, Fester!" Debbie clasped her hands together in joy. "I've always dreamed of meeting someone .. . untouched. Someone pure. Someone just like you." "You'll meet him," Fester said. "Oh, yes," Debbie said. "And I dreamed that when I met him, we would wait until our wedding night to give ourselves to one another. To make the ultimate sacrifice." "A goat?" Fester guessed. "Until now, I thought it was impossible." Debbie took his hands again. "But, Fester Addams, I love you!" "You do?" Fester was stunned. "Please," Debbie asked with studied desperation. "Be brutally honest. I have to know how you feel about me." "I love you!" Fester cried. "I worship you! I'd do anything for you! I'd pay!" "Fester!" Debbie gasped. "Debbie!" They embraced. Being that close to Fester, Debbie held her breath. Slowly Fester sank to his knees before her. "Oh, Debbie . . . Debbie Jellinsky," he gasped. "Will you?"

"Yes, Fester?" "Will you, please?"

"Yes, Fester?" "Debbie Jellinsky, will you marry me?" "No." "What?" Fester stared at her in shock. "I can't marry you if you don't have an engagement ring," Debbie explained. "An engagement ring.. ." Fester rubbed his chin. "I haven't seen one in years. The last time I saw one was at Mother's funeral." "Whose was it?" Debbie asked. "Mother's," Fester said. "And what happened to it?" Debbie asked. "She was buried with it." "Here?" "Right over there." Fester pointed to a nearby tombstone. "Hmmm." Debbie thought hard. "Fester, I have an idea." "Yes?" Fester asked eagerly. "Get a shovel." A little while later Gomez and Morticia stood arm in arm in the nursery, gazing happily at their snoring baby. "Look at him." Gomez swelled with paternal pride. "So peaceful," Morticia said. "You know," Gomez said, "this evening as I watched Fester and Debbie, I kept my fingers crossed. I hoped."

"I prayed," said Morticia. " 'Let them fall in love,' I whispered to myself." "Let them know happiness," Morticia said. "Let them adopt," added Gomez. The door flew open behind them, and Fester dashed in. "Gomez! Morticia!" he cried. "Great news! Something impossible! A miracle!" "The rash?" Gomez guessed. "It's gone?" Morticia asked. "I'm engaged!" Fester shouted. Debbie entered shyly, holding out her hand. On her ring finger was a huge diamond ring. "That ring," Morticia said, puzzled. "It was our mother's," Gomez said. "She was buried with it." Debbie held up a dirt-encrusted shovel. Then she and Fester kissed. Late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, Debbie sat in her room, smoking a cigarette and watching a small TV she'd recently purchased. The host of "America's Most Disgusting Unsolved Crimes" was introducing that night's case. "Tonight, on 'America's Most Disgusting Unsolved Crimes,' we investigate the case of Ursula Jorgensen," he said. On the TV screen, Debbie saw a picture of herself with long, straight blond hair, disguised as a Scandinavian. "Also known as Carmen Gonzalez," said the host as a shot of Debbie as a raven-haired Latino appeared on

the screen. "As well as Nadine Jones." The TV showed Debbie as a voluptuous redhead. "Three very different women with one thing in common ... murder." Various shots of corpses covered by sheets or in body bags floated across the screen as the host continued: "Murders all committed by the same woman. She is known by the police as the Black Widow—she mates, and then she kills. She preys on wealthy men, looking for the richest and loneliest bachelors." Debbie glanced up at the wall of her room, which was now covered with photos of Fester and newspaper clippings. The headlines read: addams fortune STILL INTACT and BIZARRE FAMILY IS ONE OF AMERICA'S GOLD MINES.

"First she gains their trust and love," the host continued, "then she marries them. And kills them on their wedding night. The deaths appear to be accidental, and after the funerals she disappears, cash in hand. But the money never lasts...." Debbie glanced over at her dresser. A few crumpled dollars and a handful of change sat in a small glass mason jar. "Soon the Black Widow is hungry again," said the host. "Hungry for cash, hungry for love. A mistress in disguise, she has eluded the authorities for years. Who is she? And what seemingly innocent disguise will she assume next?" Debbie opened up a sketchbook and stared down at drawings of herself in a pageboy and wearing glasses, and in pigtails, with freckles. Meanwhile the TV host summed up the show. "All we can say is, bachelors, beware!"

Chapter 13

The next morning, the family gathered in the dining room. Debbie sat next to Fester, holding Pubert, while Granny and Lurch served breakfast. "Granny," Gomez said happily. "Fester has grand news!" "I'm engaged to be married!" Fester announced. "You?" Granny squinted at him. "Yes!" "Mail-order bride from some impoverished Third World country?" Granny guessed. "Nope." "Something put together out of spare anatomy dug up from the cemetery?" "No." "Whoever she is, she's human, isn't she?" Granny asked. "Not only human, but she's sitting right here at our table," Fester said, resting his hand on Debbie's forearm. "You?" Granny looked surprised. "Isn't it wonderful?" Morticia asked. "Our Fester, engaged to be married," Granny said wondrously. She turned to Lurch. "I owe you fifty bucks." Lurch smiled. Granny picked up a pot of steaming food. "Porridge, anyone?" she asked. "Yes, please," Fester said. "Today I'm so happy, I could eat a horse." "Suit yourself," Granny said. "Be right back." She went back into the kitchen, to get a different pot. Morticia leaned across the table toward Fester and Debbie. "We're all so excited for the two of you," she said. Then, turning to Debbie, she added, "And we'd love to meet your family and have them for dinner." "Are they big people?" Granny asked, returning from the kitchen, carrying a pot. "Are they meaty?" Suddenly Debbie sniffed, and dabbed her eyes with a napkin. "Angel," Fester said softly. "What is it? What's wrong?" "You're all so kind and good to me," Debbie said miserably. "It's just. .. it's just that my entire family ... There was a horrible accident.. . years ago, when I was just a child ... an explosion." "A really big one?" Fester asked, interested. "Nothing left of them?" asked Gomez. "Maybe an arm or a leg?" Granny suggested. "No." Debbie shook her head. "Nothing. Not a shred." "Then from now on we're your family," Morticia said. "And everything we own is yours." Debbie brightened measurably. "Everything?"

"Absolutely," Gomez said. "Is there a complete list?" Debbie asked. "We'll have one made up right away," Morticia said. "Lurch, can you do it?" Lurch nodded. Gomez reached across the table and patted Debbie's hand. "And as for the wedding, it will be our pleasure." "In fact, we insist," Morticia added. Debbie gave them an overwhelmed look. "You people . . ." she said. "There's just so much love in this room." The same could not be said for Camp Chippewa. Life there was not easy for Wednesday and Pugsley. There were no chemistry sets and no weapons, save the occasional baseball bat or bow and arrow. The other children participated in things called team sports and sing-alongs. They even studied nature! One day after lunch, the directors of the camp, Gary and Becky Granger, stepped into Wednesday's bunk.

Pugsley was there, visiting. "Mail call!" Gary shouted. Wednesday paid no attention. Unlike the other campers, she never received mail from home. So while the others waited eagerly for their cards and letters, she and Pugsley played with her collection of pet centipedes and millipedes. "Castleman!" Gary shouted, tossing a letter to Cheryl Castleman. "Barkley!" Becky yelled, tossing a letter to Jessica Barkley. "Addams," Gary said. "Look at this one." Wednesday held up an unusually large dark brown millipede. "I found him under a rock. I like him so much, I thought I might even take him home when camp ends." "Addams!" Gary yelled. "If we collected enough of them, do you think Granny could cook them?" Pugsley asked. "Addams!" Gary shouted. "Maybe she could dip them in chocolate," Wednesday said. Amanda Buckman came over. "Don't you hear Gary?" "I try not to," Wednesday replied. "You've got a letter," Amanda said. "Impossible," said Wednesday. "Why?" asked Amanda. "Don't your parents write?" "Only to prisoners in maximum-security facilities," Wednesday replied. "I'll go see," said Pugsley, getting up. After Pugsley left, Amanda stared at Wednesday's collection of centipedes and millipedes. "Yuck, they're so gross." "I know," Wednesday said proudly. "What do you do with them?" "Eat them when they're fully grown," Wednesday replied. "Very funny," Amanda said. "And couldn't you at least keep them in a jar?" "I like them in bed with me," Wednesday replied. "It reminds me of home." Pugsley returned with the letter. "I think it's from home," he said, handing it to Wednesday. Wednesday opened the letter and began to read. "Oh, no!" "What is it?" Pugsley asked. "This is unspeakable!" Wednesday cried. The rest of the bunk grew quiet.

"Is something wrong?" Becky Granger asked. "Did you get bad news?" "In the history of human events, it's the worst thing that's ever happened," Wednesday moaned. She turned to her brother. "Uncle Fester is getting married." "A wedding!" Gary smiled. "But that's great news." "Who's your uncle marrying?" asked Amanda. "The nanny," Wednesday said. Amanda backed away in revulsion. "Get out of the cabin! I mean, I'd kill myself. The help." "Now, now, Amanda," Becky Granger said. "I'm sure the nanny is a very nice lady." "Well, I still think it's disgusting," Amanda said. "I think their whole family is like some weird medical experiment. I think they're like circus people." "And I think it's time for volleyball," Becky said. "Come, children, let's go out and play." Before long Wednesday and Pugsley were standing in the back row of the volleyball court, in the midst of a heated game. With them stood a thin, pale boy with thick glasses. He was wearing khaki pants and a plaid shirt, and reading a dogeared paperback book entitled A Brief History of Time. Wednesday had seen him before. Like Pugsley and herself, he was an "outcast" clearly not meant to be a Chippewa camper. She recalled seeing him on the first day of camp begging his parents not to make him stay. But his mother simply told him to stand up straight, and his father ordered him to smile. The boy took out an inhaler and breathed deeply through it. Then he turned and stared at Wednesday and Pugsley. "Who are you?" Wednesday asked. "Joel Glicker," the boy said. "You?" "Wednesday and Pugsley Addams," Pugsley said. "Why aren't you interested in the game?" Wednesday asked. "Outdoor activities make me sick," Joel said. "I hate athletics and I'm allergic to almost everything." Flap! A volleyball flew over the net and bounced off Joel's head. Joel ignored it. "Come on, Glicker, participate!" Gary Granger shouted. "You can't be allergic to almost everything," Wednesday said. "Yes, I can," Joel said. "I can't have dairy products or wear wool or drink fluoridated water." Blap! Another volleyball hit Joel in the head. Joel paid no attention to it. "Someone's not trying!" Becky Granger shouted. "Do you know what happens if my mother uses fabric softeners?" Joel asked. "What?" said Wednesday. "I die," Joel said proudly. Plap! Another volleyball hit Joel in the head. He ignored it and looked down into his book. "Glicker!" the rest of the campers shouted. "This is ridiculous!" Amanda yelled, pointing at Joel, Wednesday, and Pugsley. "They're not even trying. It's like they don't even care." "Is this true?" Gary Granger asked. "Of course we don't care," Wednesday said. "I'm getting really sick of them," Amanda snapped with her hands on her hips. "What did you say?" Pugsley asked. He and Wednesday started to advance slowly and threateningly toward Amanda. "Campers!" Becky Granger shouted, trying to head off an ugly confrontation. "Group hug!" The campers, except for Wednesday and Pugsley, gathered together and hugged one another. "Wednesday," Gary Granger said. "Pugsley. Will a hug hurt us?" Wednesday crossed her arms resolutely. "We don't hug."

"They're just shy," Becky said, stepping toward them. "We're not shy," Pugsley replied. "We're contagious," added Wednesday. "Please join us." Becky stood before them with open arms. Pugsley and Wednesday shook their heads. "You know," Gary said, joining Becky, "I'm starting to sense some real friction here. Something not quite Chippewa. But, hey, no problemo! They'll come around. All they need are good friends, good fun. And... a little time in the Harmony Hut." "What's the Harmony Hut?" Wednesday asked. "It's a very special place," said Becky. "Where we go when we need to think about who we are, and who we should be." "Suppose we don't want to go?" asked Pugsley. "It's not a choice," Gary said.

"You can't make us," said Wednesday. "Oh, yes, I can!" Gary pulled out a long white contract. "You see right here in your camp contract? Clause forty-three, subparagraph k? It says you will go to the Harmony Hut if it is deemed necessary by the camp directors." "We didn't sign any contract," Wednesday said. "You didn't," Gary said, squinting down at the contract. "But someone named Fester Addams did." "So unless you want a lawsuit, you'll go," said Becky. Gary and Becky started to lead Wednesday and her brother away. "Hey, don't forget Glicker!" Amanda shouted, pointing at a bush where Joel was hiding. "Come along, Joel," Gary said. "But—" Joel gasped. "It's indoors," said Becky. "Oh, good." Joel jogged after them. Gary led them to a low wooden building. The front door was decorated with paintings of rainbows and brightly colored butterflies. "In there," the camp director said. Wednesday pushed open the door and abruptly stopped. The walls were covered with bright yellow wallpaper with smiling suns and rainbows. There were also posters. One showed a kitten hanging from a chin-up bar, with a caption that read, "Hang in there, baby!" Another poster of a sunset had a caption that said, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life." A third poster showed a sad-eyed troll doll holding a flower. The windows were covered with Laura Ashley curtains, and scattered around the room were brightly colored throw pillows. Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel went in. "How long do we have to stay in here?" Pugsley asked. "Until we crack," Wednesday said. "Have fun!" Becky and Gary shouted from outside. Pugsley tried the doorknob. "Darn," he muttered. "Locked in." Not knowing what else to do, Wednesday and Pugsley sat down in two chairs. Suddenly music started to play. "Oh, no!" Wednesday tried to cover her ears. "It's Raffi!" Joel sat down in a corner and started to read. "Was not playing volleyball the first thing you did wrong?" Wednesday asked him. Joel shook his head. "I wouldn't go horseback riding either."

"That's all?" Pugsley asked. "And I wouldn't make a birdhouse," Joel said. "Why not?" asked Wednesday. "I just wanted to read," Joel said. Suddenly the door to the Harmony Hut flew open and Gary charged back in. "Did somebody say they wanted to read? Not on my time, four-eyes!" He grabbed the book away. "Have fun!"

Bang! The door slammed shut again. "Jerk," Joel muttered. He looked over at Wednesday and Pugsley. "Are you in here just because of volleyball?" "No," Wednesday said. "We're antisocial and enemies of the people." Joel accepted that and looked around. He spotted a poster of Michael Jackson with a group of children. The caption beneath it read, "Heal the world." "Doesn't this place give you the creeps?" Joel said. "We hate it," said Pugsley. "We shouldn't be here," said Wednesday. "We're needed at home. We have to save our uncle." "From what?" Joel asked. "Marriage." "Sounds bad," Joel said. "I hate this place, too. It's like a concentration camp disguised as paradise. Big Brother is always watching. Doors lock from the outside. Darkness lurks in every corner." "Stop," Wednesday said. "Why?" Joel asked. "You'll make us want to stay." "Well, I just don't see why I shouldn't be allowed to spend the summer indoors, reading, if that's what I want to do," Joel said. "Whoever said outdoor activity was a panacea for man's woes?" Wednesday and Pugsley glanced at each other. "He's right," Pugsley said. "I think it's time to plan an escape," said Wednesday. That night, long after lights out, two small figures dressed in black and wearing black ski masks met behind Wednesday's bunk. "Anyone see you?" Wednesday whispered. "I don't think so," Pugsley said. "What about you?" "Amanda might have still been up, but I don't think she noticed," Wednesday said. "Come on." She scampered into the dark woods. Pugsley had difficulty keeping up with her. "Hurry up!" Wednesday hissed as she made her way through the underbrush and around the trees. "I'm coming!" Pugsley answered. Ahead, a rustic-looking wooden fence was visible in the moonlight. "Help me up," Wednesday said. Pugsley backed against the fence and cupped his hands to give his sister a boost. Suddenly another figure clad all in black appeared, carrying a black backpack. "Wait!" he whispered urgently. "Who's there?" Wednesday asked in a hushed voice. "It's me," Joel said. He pointed at the top of the fence. "Be careful! Tetanus!"

Wednesday and Pugsley looked up at the fence. Now they saw what they'd missed before. Glinting in the

moonlight over the fence was barbed wire. Joel pulled a large pair of wire cutters out of his backpack. Wednesday and Pugsley helped him to the top of the fence, where he cut the barbed wire. Moments later he jumped back down. "Okay, the coast's clear. Now, go!" Pugsley started to boost Wednesday over the fence again. Eeeeerrrreeeeeennnn! Suddenly a siren went off! Grrrr-wooooof-wooooofl Vicious-sounding dogs started to bark! High overhead, searchlights arced across the sky. In no time Wednesday and the others found themselves squinting into a very bright flashlight. "There they are!" Amanda Buckman shouted. "I saw them sneak out!" Led by Amanda, Gary and Becky and a whole troop of campers surrounded Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel, backing them against the fence. "Thought you could get away, huh?" Amanda gave a haughty laugh. Then she stepped forward and ripped off their ski masks. "Addams, Addams, and Glicker. No surprises here." "Children!" Gary Granger gasped in dismay. "What did you think you were doing?" "We have to see our family," Wednesday said. "It's very important." "More important than a summer of fun?" Becky asked. "More important than making new friends? More important than sharing?" Wednesday held her chin high. "Yes." Gary looked disappointed. He turned to Joel. "Joel Glicker, I'm surprised at you." "I have to get out of here," Joel said. "I have allergies." "You're allergic to sunshine?" Becky asked. "And archery? And arts and crafts?" "Yes!" Joel insisted. "I think they should be punished!" Amanda shouted. The other campers began to close in on Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel. "Punish them! Punish them! Punish them!" they shouted. "No, campers, no!" Becky raised her hands to stop them. "We're not here to punish. We're here to inspire." Pugsley glanced nervously at Wednesday. "Campers," Gary said, "do you know what I think our little ninja friends here need? Do you know what just might turn their sad and potentially wasted little lives right around?" "What?" Joel asked warily. Gary nodded at Becky, who took out a pitch pipe and blew a note. Wednesday suddenly realized what was happening. She glanced around wildly, searching for a route of escape, but none was to be found as the group of campers sat down on the ground around her and her brother and Joel. "Ahem." Becky cleared her throat, and a moment later the group of campers began to sing: "Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya, Kumbaya, my Lord, kumbaya, Oh, Lord, kumbaya..."

Chapter 14

Debbie had hoped that she and Fester could simply elope from the Addams madhouse as fast as possible, but Morticia had decided to give her a bridal shower in the conservatory, and she couldn't say no. The room was decorated with dried, wilting flowers, and the mirrors were covered with black crepe. Tinny, somber funeral-type music floated out of an old-fashioned record player. Debbie was standing alone in the middle of the room, surveying it, when Morticia swept in. "Nervous?" Morticia asked. Debbie nodded. "So was I at my shower," Morticia said. "But this will be different." "Why?" Debbie asked. "I didn't invite any of the living dead," Morticia said. "I know some of them wanted to come, but it's hard for them during the day." "I understand," Debbie said. The doorbell rang. "Oh, that must be the first guests!" Morticia clasped her hands together excitedly and called out, "Lurch, the door." Moments later a pair of redheaded Siamese twins appeared, both wearing brightly colored dresses. "The Amore twins," Morticia cried with delight. "Morticia!" they cried in unison. "We haven't seen you since Fester's birthday party." The three hugged, and then turned to face Debbie. "Debbie, this is Flora and Fauna Amore," Morticia said. "Girls, I want you to meet Debbie Jellinsky, Fester's fiancee." "We're delighted," Flora said. "You and Fester will make such a lovely couple," gushed Fauna. "And I hope your children will, too," Flora added, "like us!" The twins giggled. The doorbell rang again and two more women entered the room. One was elderly and quite wrinkled. She looked like a faded southern belle from a bygone era. She was wearing a stained but flowing white dress and carrying a lace umbrella. The other woman was younger and rather large and broad-shouldered. She was wearing a tight, tattered red dress, carrying an open gin bottle, and she staggered slightly. Morticia put her arm through the faded southern belle's and brought her toward Debbie. "Debbie, I want you to meet our cousin Ophelia Addams, who's come all the way from Memphis," Morticia said. "That's so nice of you," Debbie said.

"It is?" Ophelia looked confused. "Why am I here?" "She's not all there," Morticia whispered to Debbie. Then she turned to Ophelia. "You're here for the bridal shower, remember? Debbie is going to marry Fester." "Congratulations." Ophelia smiled at Debbie. "I was married once, you know. And for a time, I was so very happy." "What happened?" Debbie asked. Ophelia looked puzzled. "I don't know." She looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Am I dead?" Morticia pressed two fingers against the old woman's wrist. "No, you still have a pulse. But maybe you should sit down." Ophelia wandered off, and Morticia turned to the tall woman in the tattered red dress. "Debbie, this is the countess Aphasia Dubarry-Addams," she said. "Aphasia, this is Fester's fiancee, Debbie Jellinsky." The countess took a gulp from her bottle and wiped her lips on the back of her hand. "Enchantee," she said in a surprisingly deep masculine voice. "Aphasia is an actress," Morticia said. "Oh, really!" Debbie pretended to be excited. "Have you seen any of my films?" Aphasia asked. "I'm not sure," Debbie replied. "Were you in the army?" Aphasia asked. "No." The large woman nodded. "That explains it." Across the room Ophelia had opened some French doors and started to go out. "I better get her before she wanders off and frightens someone," Aphasia said, and staggered away. Debbie and Morticia watched as she grabbed Ophelia and dragged her back into the room. "They're such a wonderful pair," Morticia said with a sigh. "Aphasia treats Ophelia terribly, but Ophelia never remembers." The doorbell rang once again and a relatively normal-looking woman entered, pushing a baby carriage. "Morticia!" she cried. "Margaret!" Morticia and the woman embraced. Then Morticia introduced her to Debbie. "Margaret, this is Debbie Jellinsky, the bride-to-be." "Welcome to our family," Margaret said. "Margaret used to be married to our lawyer, Tully," Morticia said. "I can't tell you what it's meant to me, joining the Addams clan," Margaret said dreamily. "Have you met my new husband, Cousin It?" "Cousin . . . It?" Debbie repeated. "We've been so happy together," Margaret said. "And, of course, we've been blessed with our own bundle of joy." She reached down into the carriage and lifted up a small, cooing hair ball. Debbie didn't know what to say. "What," said Margaret. "Oh, 1 didn't say anything," Debbie said.

"Oh, no, dear," said Margaret. "That's the baby's name. What. From the obstetrician." "Isn't he precious?" Morticia asked. "We've had offers," Margaret said proudly. "Well, I can't wait to meet your husband," Debbie said. "Where is he?" Margaret asked Morticia. "He's with the men in Gomez's private retreat," Morticia said, "doing what they always do when we women get together." "Playing cards and smoking cigars?" Debbie guessed. "Or dissecting a cadaver," Morticia said. She turned to the others. "Now, come, girls, it's time for Debbie to open her presents." The women gathered around the coffee table piled high with shower gifts. Debbie opened the card on the first gift. "From Aphasia," she read. She opened the box and took out a torn, slightly smelly sheer lace brassiere. "Oh, Aphasia," Debbie said. "You shouldn't have."

"Something old," Aphasia explained. Morticia handed Debbie another box. "It's from me," said Granny. "For your wedding night." Debbie opened the box and dug through some Styrofoam peanuts. Then she pulled out a primitive African wood carving. "It's ... uh ... beautiful," Debbie said uncertainly. "It's either a fertility god or the source of all despair since the beginning of time," Granny said. "I can't remember which." She pointed at a white slip of paper in the box. "There's the receipt." In addition to those gifts, Debbie got a bed of nails from Morticia and Gomez, a pair of handcuffs from Flora and Fauna, and a set of Tupperware from Margaret. Ophelia forgot to bring a gift. "She was lucky she made it here herself," Aphasia muttered. In another part of the house the Addams men were sequestered in Gomez's private retreat, a lavishly appointed, though somewhat cobwebby, place where no woman had ever set foot. The room was decorated like a turn-of-the-century bordello, with red velvet drapes, brass rails and fixtures, gaslights, and rich mahogany paneling. Fester sat at a round table in the middle of the room, surrounded by his closest friends. In addition to Gomez, Lurch, Thing, and Cousin It, there was Lumpy, the teenage hunchback, and Donald and Dexter, the two-headed man. "I never thought I'd come to a bachelor party for Fester," Donald muttered. "I did!" Dexter said brightly. "You're such an optimist," Donald spat out. "Someone around here has to be," Dexter replied sharply. "Boys, boys," Gomez said grandly, rising from the table. "No squabbling tonight." He held up a glass of champagne. "To Fester. May he have a long and miserable life!" "May he greet each new day with despair!" toasted Lumpy. Tap-tap.. . tap-tap-tap . . . tap, tapped Thing in Morse code on the tabletop. "Oot oot glipper!" toasted Cousin It. As everyone tipped back their champagne glasses and drank, Gomez nodded to Lurch, who went to the wall and turned down the lights. Thing scampered over to an ancient reel-to-reel movie projector and turned it on. A flickering light burst out of the projector and caught the blue cigar smoke curling into the air. A black-and-white image appeared on a wrinkled bed sheet tacked to the wall. "A stag film at a bachelor party!" Dexter gasped. "What an original idea!"

"Stupid and lewd," Donald muttered. The film showed a Victorian-style room filled with throw pillows, fringe, fake palm trees, and overstuffed divans. A plump woman in a harem costume danced clumsily into the frame. "Fatima!" Gomez gasped. "Woman of a thousand mysteries!" Fester cried with a twinkle in his eye. "Oooot! Ooot! Oot!" Cousin It cried. In the film Fatima began to do an extremely klutzy belly dance. "This is about as titillating as watching my front-loading washing machine," Donald groaned. "She's fabulous!" shouted Dexter. Fatima's dance grew more frenetic and enticing. Lurch stared wide-eyed. Thing was so flummoxed, he accidentally got caught in one of the film reels and was spun around. "Dance, harem temptress!" Gomez cheered. "Dance for Fester!" The air in the room grew warm and pungent with the smell of cigar smoke and human sweat. All eyes were glued to the fabulous, tantalizing, jiggling Fatima. Finally the men could no longer restrain themselves. "Take it off!" they shouted wildly. "Take it off!" The enticing image on the sheet smiled at them as if she could hear. "Take it off! Take it off!" Fester and the others shouted again. Fatima reached for her head and took it off! Holding her head by the hair, she swung it around and around, then tossed it toward the camera! Plop! Fatima's head landed in Fester's lap. He stared down at her. She winked at him. Gomez picked her up and put her under his arm. "Okay, boys, remember," he said, "this is our secret. You must never tell anyone what happened here." The lights went up and Lurch refilled everyone's glasses with champagne. They all guzzled down their drinks and cried for more. Then Thing led them in a drunken rendition of "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow." "You guys are the best bunch of friends a fella could ever hope for!" Fester cried happily when they'd finished. "What a night!" "Just wait till tomorrow night!" Dexter shouted. "You'll be a married man!" "Better enjoy this while you can," Donald muttered. "Today is your last day of freedom." "And it's not over yet!" Gomez shouted. "Now for the piece de resistance!" The velvet drapes on one side of the room parted and Lurch rolled in an enormous six-foot-high cake while Thing played a drumroll. "Ta-da!" Gomez gestured like a circus ringmaster. "Oh, I know what's going to happen!" Fester shouted. "I know!" "It's like all your fantasies come true!" Dexter cried. "How mundane," Donald muttered. Everyone stared expectantly at the cake, but nothing happened. Gomez scowled and gave Thing a nod.

"Ta-da!" Gomez exclaimed, and Thing played another drumroll. Again nothing happened. "Such delicious moments of anticipation!" Dexter cried. "Maybe she took a coffee break," Donald added. Gomez frowned and walked over to the cake. "Lift the top, Lurch," he said. Lurch lifted off the top and they both stared down inside.

"Oh, dear," Gomez said with a sigh. "What's wrong, Gomez?" Fester asked. "What happened?" "That poor girl," Gomez said sadly. He leveled his gaze at Lurch. "Lurch? Was she in there before you baked?" Lurch nodded, shamefaced.

Chapter 15

A full moon hung over Camp Chippewa. Wednesday tiptoed across the dew-covered grass toward the infirmary. The door creaked slightly as she pulled it open and she closed it quietly behind her. Moonlight spilled in through the windows, illuminating medical cabinets, eye charts, and a human skeleton hanging on a chrome stand. "Joel?" Wednesday whispered. "Where are you?" "Over here!" Joel hissed back. "Where?" Wednesday whispered. "By the skeleton." Wednesday tiptoed over to the skeleton. Joel stepped out of the shadows. "I got your message," Joel said. "Inside my cutlet." "I need to ask you something," Wednesday said. "What?" Wednesday paused and took a deep breath. "Do you believe in the existence of evil?" "Well..." Joel thought for a moment. "Did you meet my mom?" Wednesday took one of the skeleton's hands in hers. "Joel, my Uncle Fester is about to get married. To this woman in a white uniform." "A radiologist?" Joel asked. "A nanny," Wednesday said. "I have to go to the wedding." "Forget it; they'll never let you out of this place." "They will," Wednesday said. "Gary gave me a pass." "A . . . pass?" Joel's voice trembled with painful admiration. "You can leave?" "Don't cry," Wednesday said. "Why are you telling me this?" Joel gasped. "Are you just trying to torture me?" The thought hadn't entered Wednesday's mind. It was very appealing, but she had another idea. "I was wondering if you'd like to come." In the shadows Joel looked shocked. He took the skeleton's other hand in his. "You mean like ... on a date?" "No," Wednesday said. "I. . . I'd love to," Joel stammered. Suddenly the door creaked. "Hello? Is someone in here?" a voice asked. It was Gary! Wednesday and Joel looked at each other in terror. Joel mouthed the words, "What are we

gonna do?"

Wednesday's eyes darted around and stopped at two empty gurneys standing side by side. She had an idea and tugged at Joel's sleeve to follow her. Meanwhile the infirmary door swung open and Gary and Becky stepped in, pointing flashlights. Beams of light traced the floors and walls. "Who's in here?" Becky called out. "You sure you heard someone?" Gary asked in the dark. "I'm not positive, but I thought so." The camp directors walked carefully through the room. Suddenly they stopped and focused their flashlights on the twin gurneys and the bodies that lay upon them, covered by sheets. "It's nothing. Must be the Morrison twins," Gary said. "From this afternoon." "Oh, of course. Bungee-jumping?" asked Becky. "Square dancing," Gary corrected her. Gary waved his flashlight around one last time. "Well, there's no one in here. Let's go." A moment later the door creaked and slammed shut. Joel and Wednesday sat up on the gurneys and pulled off the sheets. "Wow, did you hear that?" Joel gasped. "Campers are dying here." "Almost makes me want to stay," Wednesday said with a sigh. *** At the Addams mansion Debbie waited until everyone in the house was asleep. Then she pulled on her robe and slipped quietly out of her room. She took the winding staircase up to Fester's room and knocked softly on his door. "Darling?" she whispered, pushing the door slightly ajar. At the sound of his wife-to-be's voice, Fester awoke. "Dearest?" he mumbled sleepily. "I'm outside the door," Debbie said. "You want to come in?" Fester's eyes widened. She'd never visited him in his chambers before. "Yes, but you have to keep your eyes shut, sweetheart," Debbie said from the other side of the door. "It's bad luck to see the bride." "But I saw you before," Fester said. "That was okay," said Debbie. "But now that it's the night before the wedding, you shouldn't look." "Are you sure it's all right for you to see me?" Fester asked, shutting his eyes. Actually, it was rather painful, Debbie thought as she pushed open the door and stepped into the room. "Yes, it's perfectly fine for the bride to see the groom," she said. "In fact, darling, I just had to see you one more time before the wedding." "Why?" "Well, I wanted to tell you that I had a wonderful shower," Debbie said, stepping slowly toward him. "Did you use soap?" Fester asked. "Oh, you're always kidding me," Debbie said with a laugh. "I meant bridal shower, silly." "I know," Fester said. "Gomez gave me a bath before we went out to dinner that night. Now that you've had your bridal shower, I guess that means we won't have to wash until our tenth anniversary." Which you'll never live to see, Debbie thought as she stepped closer to Fester. "No, dearest, let me explain," she said as she took a tape measure out of the pocket of her robe. "The

bridal shower is where I get gifts for the wonderful life you and I will have after we're married." Wonderful, but in your case, a very short life, Debbie thought. She crept closer and held the tape measure over Fester's throat, measuring exactly how large a noose she would need to hang him while making it look like a suicide. Fester lay on his bed with his eyes tightly shut and a big grin on his face, utterly unaware of what Debbie was doing. "I had a terrific party," Fester said. "I just adore Gomez and Morticia," Debbie said. "All the Addamses." She made a fist, stuck out one finger like a gun, and pretended to shoot Fester point-blank. "Muffin, we're going to be happy, aren't we?" Fester asked. "Of course, my beloved!" Debbie replied. Now she pretended she was holding a dagger in her hand and mimed stabbing him repeatedly. Her face was contorted into a silent scream of fury and murder. "I wish I could open my eyes and see your beautiful face," Fester said wistfully. "Oh, no, pumpkin, you mustn't!" Debbie said. "I'll try to keep my eyes closed," Fester said, straining. "But it isn't easy. Not when you're this close." "Just think of how close I'll be tomorrow night," Debbie purred. "I can't wait!" Fester cried, and started to breathe hard. "But, Fester?" Debbie said. "Yes, cupcake?" "I do have one request. 1 know it's silly." "Anything!" Fester said. "I need your signature," Debbie said. "In my wedding album. It's a tradition." "My signature?" Fester scowled with his eyes closed. "Eyes shut!" Debbie said. She pulled a document out of her robe, which read: Fester Addams's Last Will and Testament. .. Debbie gets everything. "Here's the pen," she said, handing it to Fester. "But I can't see what I'm signing," Fester said. "Don't worry," Debbie said, guiding his hand to the document. "I'll make sure it's in the right place."

Chapter 16

The day of the wedding arrived. As was the Addams family tradition, the ceremony would take place in the cemetery at dusk. In preparation for the event the mansion was bedecked with dead branches and black crepe. More black crepe covered the monuments and crypts in the cemetery. The sun began to set, its fading light catching the ragweed, dandelions, and poison ivy that thrived around the house. The wedding guests took their seats among the tombs. The altar, covered with black roses, was just in front of the largest family crypt. Lurch sat at the pipe organ, which had been moved outdoors, and played a stirring rendition of "Sunrise, Sunset." Bats swooped through the gray light, and wild creatures howled in the distance.

Wearing a black yarmulke, Joel sat in a seat near the front, a thrilled childlike expression on his face. The ceremony began. Wednesday was the first to come down the aisle. Looking very somber, she dropped rocks out of a flower basket. Next came Pugsley, the ring bearer, carrying a black satin pillow, upon which lay Thing, holding the rings. Next came Debbie, carrying a bouquet and looking radiant in her white wedding gown. She was escorted by Gomez, who wore a tux. Moments later the family assembled before the altar. Gomez and Morticia stood to one side, looking proud and happy. Pugsley and Wednesday stood on the other side, looking sullen. Behind them stood Granny with Pubert. Standing before them, wearing minister's robes, was Cousin It. Beside him stood Margaret, who cuddled What in her arms. She would serve as her husband's translator. "Ooot oot muck glipper," Cousin It began. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here," translated Margaret. "Ooot oot piddle," said Cousin It. "To join this man," said Margaret. "Gleep glip." "And this woman." "Aaaaaiiiiieeeeeee!" From the crypt behind them came a mournful shriek. Gomez and Morticia quickly turned and banged their fists against the crypt wall, and the shrieking stopped. "Oooot oot gleep glip glot," Cousin It went on. "Please begin the vows," said Margaret. Fester was gazing dreamily at his beautiful bride. "The vows, Fester!" Gomez poked his older brother. "Oh, yes, the vows." Fester snapped out of it and pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. As he unfolded it, Debbie looked over his shoulder. "Do you have to read all of that?" she asked impatiently. "It's a declaration of my undying love," Fester explained. "Well, see if you can declare it in twenty-five words or less," Debbie said. Looking a bit flustered, Fester began. "Uh, uh, I, Fester Addams, do hereby declare my unending love. I will worship you forever; I will devote my every waking moment to your happiness alone; henceforward, I am your eternal and helpless slave." "Nice," Debbie said. "Ditto." Cousin It turned back to Fester. "Glipper gleep gleep?" "Fester," Margaret said. "Do you take this woman to be your wife?" "I—I do!" Fester stammered. "Same here," Debbie said. "I do. I'm there. Let's get this done." "Glip glap glop," Cousin It said.

"May I have the ring?" Margaret translated. Pugsley held out the pillow, upon which Thing held out the ring. Fester took the ring and started to put it on Debbie's finger. "Could I see that for a second?" Debbie asked, pulling a small appraiser's magnifying glass out of her wedding dress. Fester waited while she appraised the ring. After Debbie seemed satisfied, Fester slid the ring onto Debbie's finger. Almost instantly the women in the audience began to sob and dab their eyes with lace hankies or oily rags. "A man and a woman." Margaret sniffed and sighed. "It could work." In the first row, Ophelia, the faded southern belle, and Aphasia, the soused actress, also dabbed away their tears. "I do love weddings," Ophelia said daintily. "Aphasia, have you ever been married?" "Oh, sure." Aphasia nodded. "In white?" Ophelia asked. "In Berlin," Aphasia replied. Meanwhile, at the altar, Cousin It spoke again. "Gleep glapper glit." "You may kiss the minister," Margaret said. Debbie raised her veil and moved to kiss Fester. "Not me," Fester said, raising his hand and nodding at Cousin It. "Him first." Debbie straightened up. "Another family tradition?" Fester nodded. Cousin It leaned forward, and Debbie kissed him. As she backed away, she pulled a long brown hair from her mouth. "Gleep gleep gleep!" said Cousin It. "You may now kiss the bride," said Margaret. Debbie leaned forward and kissed Fester. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Lurch coming toward them carrying an old-fashioned box camera. Just as Lurch took their picture, Debbie raised her hand to hide her face. Crash! Boom! Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by thunder. Little What in Margaret's arms shrieked in fear, and Cousin It's hair stood on end. The rest of the wedding party glanced around, alarmed. "There were no storms in the forecast," Gomez said. "It's just Pubert," Granny said, pressing him against her shoulder and patting his back. Blech! Pubert burped, and the thunder and lightning disappeared. "Ah, that's much better." A smile etched its way across Gomez's lips, but Morticia looked worried. "Tish, my darling, what is it?" Gomez asked. "I'm not sure," replied Morticia. "But just as Debbie and Fester kissed and the lightning and thunder began, I was struck by a sudden feeling of discomfort." "Manic depression?" Gomez guessed. "I'm not sure, but it might have had something to do with Fester and Debbie."

"Oh, it's probably just the fear of change," Gomez said dismissively. "You know how much we Addamses hate anything new. But we're just going to have to get over it. Now, look!" He pointed beyond the cemetery. "The bride and groom are headed for the getaway car!" It was true. Debbie was quickly leading Fester toward the family Phantom, which was festooned with decorations and just married signs. Tin cans were tied to the rear bumper along with a corpse lying facedown. Gomez, Morticia, and the rest of the wedding party hurried to catch up to them. "Stop!" Gomez shouted as Debbie pulled open the door. Debbie stopped and turned to him. "What?"

"You're going to have a wonderful life together," Gomez said. "Yes, I am," Debbie replied, and started to get into the car again. "Wait," Fester said. "Now what?" Debbie asked, annoyed. "The bouquet," Fester said, pointing at the bunch of flowers in her hand. "You want 'em? They're yours." Debbie started to toss the bouquet toward him. "Not me," Fester said. "Come on, darling, let's see who the next happy bride is going to be." Debbie turned to the crowd of wedding guests who now surrounded her. She rolled her eyes and tossed the bouquet toward them. Suddenly a riot broke out as women dove in and fought for it. Shoes, pieces of clothing, and a wig flew into the air above the melee. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Standing in the middle of the crowd, Wednesday discovered to her horror that she held the bouquet in her hand. Joel turned to her with romance in his eyes. "Now you have to get married." "It's not binding," Wednesday replied. "Tramp," Aphasia muttered. Meanwhile Debbie shoved Fester into the car and jumped in behind him, slamming the door. Morticia watched this and felt that sensation of discomfort grow inside her again. As Lurch got in front to drive the newlyweds to the airport, Morticia quickly looked around for her right hand. "Thing," she said. "Follow that car!" Lurch had started the car and put it in gear. The massive Rolls had started to move. Thing raced after it and jumped up onto the rear bumper. As the car disappeared into the dark, Thing waved back at Morticia and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

Chapter 17

Debbie and Fester flew all through the night and landed at an airport in the dark hours, just before dawn. The exhausted newlyweds got into a cab and went to their hotel, where they collapsed onto separate beds and fell asleep just as the new day awoke. They slept all day. At dusk, Fester awoke. On the other side of the bedroom, Debbie was asleep in the second bed, lying on her back, her mouth agape, snoring loudly. Fester had never heard such a romantic sound. He was tempted to crawl into bed with her, but he told himself it would be better to wait until she was awake. Instead he slipped out of bed, pushed open the curtains, and went out onto the balcony. Pressed against the balcony railing, he stared out. Before him the broad Pacific Ocean spread away in a vast expanse of bluegreen water. The few wisps of clouds in the dark blue sky shimmered in lavender and deep pink as they reflected the last moments of the glorious sunset that had just passed. The air was pungent with the sweet aromas of tropical blossoms. Something was terribly wrong.... Fester stepped back into the room. In her bed Debbie stretched gracefully and scratched her armpit. Fester was in awe of how unconsciously erotic she was. "Darling," he said softly. Debbie turned and stared at him for a moment as if she'd forgotten who he was. "Oh, Fester." "Did you sleep well?" Fester asked. "Yes." Debbie yawned. She was wearing a sexy, see-through negligee. "So here we are on our honeymoon," Fester said. Debbie nodded a bit apprehensively. "There's just one thing I don't understand," Fester said. "What's that?" "This is Hawaii." "I know," Debbie said. "But I thought we were going to Death Valley," Fester said. "Of course," Debbie said, sitting up and yawning. "Didn't I tell you I had to change our plans?" "No." "With all the details of the wedding, I must have forgotten," Debbie said. "The travel agency called and said Death Valley was overbooked. The best they could do was a free week at Diamond Head." "Are there vultures here?" Fester asked. "We can try the zoo later," Debbie said. Fester nodded sadly, then came around the bed and sat beside her. "I suppose all that really matters is that we're together on our wedding night!" He took her hand in his. "Just you." "And you," Debbie said, squeezing his hand.

Suddenly Thing crawled onto their clasped hands. "And Thing!" Fester gasped in delight. "Ahhhhh!" Debbie screamed and jumped up. Thing scampered away and climbed up on the balcony railing. "What a wonderful surprise!" Fester cried. "A stowaway!" He turned to Debbie, who'd placed her hand on her chest as she caught her breath. "Isn't this great?" "Great," Debbie repeated drolly, and sat down on the bed again. Fester took her hands in his. "Now, where were we? Oh, I know. Wasn't I about to take you in my arms?" He slid closer to her. But Debbie slid away. "Yes, my dearest," she said. "But first, there's just one thing." "Yes?" Fester asked eagerly. "A wedding night tradition," Debbie said.

"Some mystical ancient custom?" Fester asked. "Yes." Debbie nodded. "A bath." Fester shuddered and backed away. "What is this?" he asked. "This bath thing?" "It's only one night," Debbie said softly. Fester took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "For you," he said, as though girding himself for battle. He stood up and went into the bathroom. Debbie went to the balcony and leaned on the railing, staring out at the dark ocean. Thing was perched on the railing near her. Debbie reached over as if to pet him, and Thing crouched down in anticipation of her caress. But at the last second she gave him a little shove. Thing disappeared over the railing. Later Fester lay in the sunken marble bathtub, covered up to his chin in soap bubbles. Thing, who'd managed to survive his fall by bouncing off several large palm leaves, had ridden the elevator back up. Now he massaged a small clump of suds on Fester's bald scalp. Debbie entered the bathroom, thumbing through a large book. She looked up, surprised. "Thing?" she gasped. Thing stopped massaging Fester's head and wagged a finger at her, as if scolding her for what she'd done. It was clear, however, that Thing hadn't told Fester. "Dearest," Fester said, lifting a suds-covered arm toward her. "Would you like to join me?" "Not yet," Debbie replied. "I'm still. .. awfully nervous." "But, darling, we're married now," Fester said. "I know, but I still have to get into the mood," Debbie said. She gestured to the book. "I've been reading this book—it's a best-seller, Jane Seymour's Guide To Romantic Living." "What does it say?" Fester asked. Debbie opened the book. "Jane advises soft lighting." She stepped to the wall and dimmed the bathroom lights. Then she lit several candles. "Ooh, it's like a cave," Fester whispered approvingly. "What next?" "She says to scent the air with an exotic potpourri," Debbie said. "How?" Debbie left the bathroom, then returned a moment later with a spray can. "What is it?" Fester asked. "Glade's 'Romantic Odor,'" Debbie said. She lightly spritzed the air, then gave Thing a good shot of the stuff. Thing trembled and fell into the bathtub with a small splash. Meanwhile Fester took a deep breath. "Mmmm!" He exhaled. "It smells just like ... a taxi! Hee .. . hee .. . hee!" Fester began to giggle.

"What is it, my pumpkin?" Debbie asked sweetly. "It's Thing," Fester cried. "He's tickling me! Thing, stop it!" Thing climbed out of the tub and sat on its edge, dripping wet. "So is that it?" Fester asked eagerly. "Are you in the mood now?" "Almost," Debbie said. "But Jane says that the key ingredient is romantic music." "Do we have any?" "Be right back." Again Debbie disappeared into the bedroom. This time she returned carrying a large silvery boom box with a long orange extension cord. She pressed a button, and soft, sensual classical music began to play. "Is that the radio?" Fester asked. "No, it's a CD," Debbie said. "I ordered it from Time-Life. It's called 'Five Thousand of the World's Most Romantic Melodies.'" "It's superb," Fester gushed. "What do you call this?" Debbie looked at the plastic CD case. "Number four hundred and thirty-eight." "Debbie, you're marvelous!" Fester cried. "The lighting, the aroma, the romantic music. You've thought of everything!" Debbie knelt down at the edge of the tub with the boom box in her arms. "So, Fester," she said, eyes sparkling. "You like romantic living?" "I do!" Fester nodded. "So far!"

Debbie turned up the volume on the boom box. "I can't hear you!" "I said—" Fester began, but Debbie stood up and began to waltz to the music in a suggestive and sensual way. "Oh, I just love romantic living!" she cried. "Like Jane! Oh, Fester, how much do you love me?" Mesmerized by the loud music, the candles, and the beautiful woman dancing before him in a sexy seethrough negligee, Fester gasped, "With all my soul!" "Would you do anything for me?" Debbie asked as she gyrated before him. "Yes!" Fester cried wildly. "Anything?" Debbie shouted. "Yes!" Fester gasped, beside himself with pas sion. Debbie dropped to her knees and stared into his eyes. "Would you ... die for me?" "Yes!" "Promise?" Debbie said. She stood up and hurled the boom box into the bathtub. Ka-boom! There was a loud, crackling explosion. The bathwater hissed and steamed. Bolts of electricity coursed through Fester's body, lighting up the room. Pop! Pop! Pop! Throughout the hotel suite, lamps shorted out and light bulbs exploded. Thing ran madly around the room, throwing off sparks. The bathroom was dark and quiet except for the sloshing sound of the bathwater. Debbie bent down and unplugged the boom box. "Pumpkin?" she muttered derisively. Suddenly a light bulb lit up. Debbie stared incredulously. The bulb was in Fester's mouth! "Muffin?" Fester's voice was garbled. "You .. . you're alive?" Debbie gasped. "It was incredible!" Fester sighed as if spent. "No one's ever done that for me before." "Really?" Debbie replied miserably. "Have you ever done it to anyone else?" Fester asked. "Uh, no," Debbie said. "It was an accident, Fester."

"It was?" Fester looked surprised. "Yes, Fester," Debbie said. "Don't you know you could have been killed?" Fester shook his head. He had an astonished look on his face. "Really?" "Yes." "Wow," Fester said. "I never realized dying could feel so good." Debbie rolled her eyes and went back into the bedroom. Fester came out of the bathroom, wearing a white terry cloth robe. He sat down on the bed beside Debbie. Still upset by her failure to do in her newest husband, Debbie ignored him and stared at the TV.

"Darling," Fester said, gently taking the remote from her. "I know you're nervous." He flicked off the TV. "So am I." "I'm not nervous," Debbie said irritably. "I'm upset." "Because of the bathtub?" Fester said. "Accidents happen." "I know!" Debbie snapped. "I'm fine, darling," Fester said. "I know," Debbie said, distraught. "Don't give it another thought," Fester said, gently stroking her shoulder. "Think only ... of me. And our future together." The thought was so horrible that Debbie began to whimper. Sensing her discomfort, Fester slid closer. "Don't be frightened," he said softly. "I'll be gentle. This is as new to me as it is to you." Debbie gazed at him incredulously. "You've really never had sex?" "Never." "Well, then." Desperate to stall, Debbie placed her hand on his. "How do you know we're not having it right now?" "Sweetheart," Fester said patiently. "We're married now. It's time." "Oh, my God," Debbie moaned. "The most beautiful moment between a man and a woman," Fester said. "We'll be just like Gomez and Morticia." "But I'm not ready!" Debbie gasped. "This isn't how it's supposed to be!" "Darling, don't worry," Fester said. "You're an Addams now. Pretend we're at home, in my room. Granny down the hallway, Lurch by the door." "Oh, my God," Debbie muttered, horrified at what was to come. Fester sensed that something wasn't right. "Please. What is it? What do you need?" Need? Debbie stared at him. She needed him to be dead, but the task was proving to be more difficult than she'd expected. As a new plan began to ferment in her head, she gave him a sultry smile. "I'll tell you what I need," she purred. "You. Only you, my dearest." "Really?" Fester asked, pleased. "Yes," Debbie gasped. "In fact, Fester, suddenly I... I feel ready." "Oh, my gosh!" Fester cried. "Oh, Debbie, I love you. I want you." Fester leaned closer, intoxicated by her perfume and the nearness of her body under that filmy negligee. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and began to kiss her skin. "There's just one thing, Fester," Debbie whispered. "Gomez told me," Fester whispered back. "No giggling." "And ..." Debbie said. "No hand puppets," Fester added.

"And . .." Debbie said. Fester looked up with a scowl. "What?" "After we've made love, you can never see your family again." "What?" Fester didn't know what to think. "Otherwise I could never really enjoy myself," Debbie said, grabbing his hand and pressing it against her bosom. "I could never really give myself completely." "Unless I never see my family again?" Fester asked, bewildered. "Please try to understand," Debbie said urgently. "If I picture them in our lives, I could never achieve . . ." "What?" Fester asked. "You know," Debbie said. "What women achieve." "Notoriety?" Fester guessed. "No, with their husbands," Debbie said. Fester frowned. Debbie put her hand on his thigh, then leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "That?" he gasped. Debbie nodded and rubbed her hand up and down his thigh. "Never?" Fester repeated. "Don't you love me?" Debbie asked plaintively. "Of course!" Fester insisted. "Don't you want me?" Debbie whispered in his ear. "Yes!" Fester trembled. Debbie kissed him hard on the lips and then pulled away. "Then promise me you'll never see them again." "But. .." Fester was torn between desire and strong family ties. Debbie slid her hand up his leg again. "Ohhhhhhh ..." Fester moaned deliriously. "Never, stud?" Debbie whispered. "Never," Fester whispered back. "Swear?" "I swear!" Fester gasped. Debbie's negligee fell away, revealing the tattoo of a black-widow spider on her shoulder.

Chapter 18

A week passed. Back at home the Addamses went about their daily routines—casting spells, conjuring demons, and raising Pubert. One morning at breakfast, Morticia hardly touched her poached entrails. Gomez noticed she looked distant and worried. "Darling?" he said, snapping her out of her daze. "I'm having strange premonitions," Morticia said. "About Fester." "Ah, yes, the newlywed." Gomez smiled benignly. "It's been a week and we haven't heard from him," Morticia said. "So what does that tell you?" Gomez asked. "He's got other things on his mind," Granny said with a wink. "Oh, Granny, you are a rascal!" Gomez said with a laugh. "But Fester's such a homebody," Morticia said. "It's not like him to be so out of touch." "Maybe the phones in Death Valley are out of order," Gomez said. "They didn't go to Death Valley," Granny said. Both Gomez and Morticia looked surprised. "What?" "Just before they left, I heard Debbie on the phone with a travel agent," Granny said. "She changed their reservations to Hawaii." "Hawaii?" Morticia said with consternation. "Why would anyone want to go there?" "I don't know," Granny said. Morticia faced Gomez. "I knew something was wrong. I knew she was up to no good." "Wait!" Gomez said. "The volcanoes." Morticia relaxed a little. "Of course. Silly me for getting all worried. They want to make a sacrifice." Wooof! Woof! Grrrrrr! Out near the front door a dog barked viciously. "Aaahhhhhh!" someone screamed. "Mail's here," Gomez said. "Sounds like a new mailman," said Granny. "Yes, I don't recognize that scream," Gomez said. "Maybe there'll be something from Fester." Morticia got up and went out toward the front hall. "She does seem unusually concerned," Granny observed once Morticia had left the kitchen. "She's just feeling protective," Gomez said, dismissing it. "It is the first time Fester's left home in a while," Granny pointed out. "True," said Gomez, "but the last time he was lost in the Bermuda Triangle, remember? He was gone for more than twenty years. And did he ever write?" Granny shook her head. "See?", Gomez asked.

Morticia returned, looking glum. "Any news from Fester?" Gomez asked. "None," Morticia said. "Just a letter from your pen pal in Attica. It just seems so odd that Fester hasn't been in touch," she said, sitting again. "No phone calls, no letters, no carrier pigeons ..." A burp erupted from Pubert's crib. Gomez got up and went over. In the crib Pubert was wearing sunglasses. "Look at him. Too much fun at that reception," Gomez observed, then disappeared into the kitchen. "This'll do the trick," Gomez said when he returned, shaking up a bottle of raw egg, Worcestershire sauce, and a dash of vodka, capping it with a rubber baby nipple. When he stood by the crib, Pubert reached up with eager, outstretched arms. "Baby knows his medicine, doesn't he?" Gomez said proudly, dangling the bottle over the crib. Pubert grabbed it, and they heard loud sucking sounds, followed by a very satisfied little moan. "Hair of the pup," Gomez said proudly. The doorbell rang. "Maybe they're home!" Morticia gasped and jumped up. "But why would they ring the doorbell?" Gomez asked, following her out into the front hallway. "Fester has keys." "Maybe he lost them," Morticia said. By the time they got to the front door, Lurch had already opened it. Two men wearing blue coveralls were standing there, looking around. Over the breast pocket on each man's uniform was a white patch. One said Billy; the other said Al. "Addams residence?" said Billy. Lurch nodded. Morticia looked puzzled. "We're not expecting any deliveries." "We ain't deliverin'," said Al. "We're pickin' up." "Picking up what?" Gomez asked. "All his stuff," said Billy. "All of whose stuff?" asked Morticia. Al frowned and flipped some pages over on a clipboard. "Fester Addams. He wants it out of here." "Fester?" Gomez looked shocked. "You must be mistaken," Morticia said. "Here's the list," Al said. "Paper clip collection. Underwear. One pair. Box of dirt." At that moment Granny passed through the entryway, carrying a box of dirt. "Here," Billy said, reaching for it. "I'll take that." "The heck you will," Granny screeched. "We gotta take the box of dirt belonging to Fester Addams," Al said. "This is my dirt," Granny snapped. "Fester's is upstairs in his bedroom, where it belongs." Granny continued on her way. "So, uh, you wanna show us where this guy Fester's stuff is?" Billy asked. Gomez and Morticia glanced at each other. "This is very, very strange," Morticia said with a shiver. Meanwhile, at Camp Chippewa, Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel stood at the archery range.

"Have you heard anything from your uncle Fester?" asked Joel. "Not a word," Wednesday said. "It's been a week," Pugsley said. "What do you think they're doing right now—Debbie and Uncle Fester?" "Having sex," Wednesday said. Pugsley gave her a blank look. "Do you know what that is?" Wednesday asked. "Of course," Pugsley replied. Wednesday glanced at Joel. "He doesn't know," Joel said. "Yes, I do!" Pugsley insisted. "He's just a baby," Wednesday taunted him. "I am not," Pugsley shouted angrily. "Okay, Mr. Grown-Up," Joel said. "If you're so certain you know what sex is, why don't you tell us?" "Well, okay," Pugsley said. "Here's what happens. First they take their clothes off." "Okay," Joel said. "So far, so good." "See?" Pugsley said. "What next?" Joel asked. "Well, after they take their clothes off, their skin comes off. And their bodies split in half and wiggle on the floor. And then their brains gush together. And they scream." "That's it?" Joel asked. Pugsley nodded. Joel turned to Wednesday. "You told him." "No, I didn't," Wednesday insisted. "Amanda's turn," Gary Granger shouted. Wednesday and Joel watched Amanda pick up a bow and arrow. She pulled the arrow far back and aimed it at the target. "Go!" Gary shouted. Amanda let go of the arrow, and it flew twenty-five yards and impaled the center of the target. "Bull's-eye!" Gary shouted. "Excellent, Amanda. Next!" Joel, Wednesday, and Pugsley looked around. There was no one else left. "Your turn, Glicker," Gary said, holding out the bow. "I can't," Joel said. "Allergic?" Gary raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Pacifist," Joel said. "Don't worry," Gary said. "The target can't feel a thing." Joel reluctantly took the bow and arrow. He pulled the arrow back a few inches. "Go!" Gary shouted. Joel let go. The arrow flew about three feet and fell into the dirt.

"Good try!" Gary shouted. "Next!" Joel handed the bow to Pugsley, and Gary handed him an arrow. Just then a camper ran up with a postcard. "This just came," he said. "It's for Wednesday and Pugsley." With the arrow pulled back tightly in the bow, Pugsley turned around. "Duck, everyone!" Gary shouted. A dozen campers threw themselves on the ground. "For God's sake, Pugsley. Aim that thing somewhere else!" Pugsley aimed the arrow into the sky and let go. Thump! A moment later a large brown bird with a white head hit the ground. Pugsley's arrow was embedded in its side. Jamal picked it up. "Hey, it's an American bald eagle," he yelled. "Aren't they extinct?" Amanda asked. "Now they are," said Wednesday. Becky sidled up to her husband. "Can we get in trouble for this?" "We could, but..." Gary turned to Jamal. "Take this to the camp kitchen and tell Woo Fang we'd like it for dinner tonight."

Jamal took the eagle away. Gary Granger turned back to his wife and smiled. "There goes the evidence." "What's the postcard say?" Joel asked Wednesday. "It says, 'Dear Wednesday and Pugsley, I love you dearly, but I can never see you again. When you are grownup and very lonely, you will understand. Love, Uncle Fester.'" "That's terrible!" Joel gasped. "It's Debbie," Wednesday said. "Debbie?" Pugsley didn't understand. "She's behind this," Wednesday said. "That's it. She's got her claws into him. Uncle Fester's a dead man." Later, at the back of the Camp Chippewa theater, a rustic-looking building made of logs, Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel were hiding on the floor behind the last row of seats. The rest of the campers were gathered in two groups on the stage. In the middle of the stage was the group of popular kids, with Amanda Buckman at their center. Off to the right were the outcasts. Becky and Gary sat in the seats, holding clipboards. "Heads up, campers!" Gary shouted. "The jamboree is only two weeks away! You know what that means? Clean cabins, creating with clay, and canoes, canoes, canoes! We'd better get crackin'! It's gonna be one funfilled, viciously competitive event after another! Remember our Chippewa motto: 'Winning isn't everything ...

but it should be!' Our time together is drawing to a close, so let's just have more fun than we can humanly stand!" Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel were ignoring it all as usual. Joel was showing them a pack of cards he'd received in the mail. "They're called 'Schizos and Serial Killers,'" he whispered. "Now I'll have almost the whole series. I'm only missing Jack the Ripper and that zodiac guy." "Hey, look!" Pugsley gasped, pointing at a card that looked like Debbie in disguise. "Wow, it might be her," Wednesday said. "You're right," Joel said. "She looks just like the nanny who married your uncle." He picked up the card and read it." 'The Black Widow. At least three rich husbands, all dead.'" "I'll trade you," Pugsley said. "For what?" Joel asked. Pugsley held out a cherished card. "Amy Fisher." Up in front, Gary was addressing the campers who'd gathered on the stage. "As you may know," Gary said, "each year we conclude our summer with a very special theatrical presentation. Book, music, and lyrics by ..." "Gary Granger!" Becky announced proudly. The crowd on the stage stared at Gary and his wife blankly. "Book, music, and lyrics by ..." Gary repeated. "Gary Granger!" Becky said, winking at the campers. "Oh, I get it!" Amanda Buckman said, and started to clap. The rest of the campers joined in. Gary smiled. "This year the old bean has come up with something very exciting," he said. "My personal salute to the first Thanksgiving. Now, we've thought long and hard about choosing just the right little actress for the leading role of Sarah Miller, the beautiful and kindly Pilgrim lady." On the stage Amanda and her friends held hands in eager anticipation. They all pointed at Amanda, who

blushed with fake modesty and pointed at someone else. "We've selected Amanda Buckman!" Gary announced. Amanda's jaw dropped, as if she were completely stunned. "Me?" she gasped dramatically. "And for Amanda's Pilgrim pals," Gary announced, "we've chosen Lily, Jennifer, Tiffany, Missy, Michelle, and Melissa!" All the other girls on the stage screamed and rushed together for a group hug. From the back of the auditorium Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel watched silently. Now Becky Granger turned and faced the outcasts on the stage. "Of course, not everyone can be a star," she said. "Let's not forget our cheery little Chippewa Indians, played by Mordecai, Esther, Miriam, Yang, and, uh, I'm not sure how to pronounce this...." "Jamal," said Jamal. "Right, Jamal," Becky said. "And as their leader, in the secondary but still compelling role of Pocahontas, guess who we have in mind." The outcasts stared at one another and shrugged. It wasn't as if they cared. "That's right!" Becky said. "Our own little brunette outcast, Wednesday Addams!" Wednesday felt a shiver of horror race through her. "Where is she?" Gary asked, staring at the crowd on the stage. "Back there." Amanda Buckman pointed at the back of the theater. Wednesday stood there in shock. The thought of appearing in the camp play was overwhelming! She sank beneath the seats and disappeared.

Chapter 19

For the rest of their Hawaiian honeymoon, Debbie worked the phone feverishly and in private. They did take one trip up to the volcano, where Debbie "accidentally" gave Fester a little shove. Her new husband briefly disappeared over the edge, only to be spit back on a burst of hot gases and ash, as if the volcano didn't want him, either. Finally it was time for the journey home. The last leg of the trip was by commuter airline to a small rural airport. After the plane landed, Fester looked out the window and frowned. "This isn't the airport we took off from when we left," he said.

"I know," Debbie said. "We're going to our new home." "New home?" Fester asked, surprised. "Didn't I tell you?" Debbie asked. "No." "Oh." Debbie just shrugged and handed him her purse and several heavy carryon bags. "Here, pumpkin, carry these." The stewardess pulled open the airplane's door, and Debbie stepped down to the runway. In the distance she spotted a hearse. Darn, she'd forgotten about that. The uniformed driver of the hearse was coming toward her. "Mrs. Addams?" he said, looking a little perplexed. "Yeah?" Debbie replied. It was so hard to get used to being called that. "Your hearse is here," the driver said. "But where's the body?" "Right there." Debbie pointed at Fester, who was struggling with the luggage. "But he's alive," the driver said, looking even more perplexed. "Tell me about it," Debbie muttered. "I don't understand," the driver said. "Just send the bill," Debbie said with a sigh. "Make sure it's addressed to Fester Addams." Debbie led Fester to the luggage carousel inside the terminal, where they picked up the rest of the bags. Thing followed, dragging a wilted lei. Then, with Fester barely visible under the mountain of suitcases and carryons, Debbie led him out to the curb, where a short man with slick black hair waited beside a gleaming white brand-new Buick. "You Mrs. Fester Addams?" the man asked. "Yeah," replied Debbie. "Here you go." The man handed her a set of car keys. "She's all yours." "Thanks." Debbie tossed the keys at Fester. "Open the trunk and put the bags in." Fester let go of the bags and they crashed to the ground. "Where did we get this car?" he asked as he opened the trunk. "I bought it on our charge card." Debbie took out a compact and started to apply lipstick. "But it's so new," Fester said uncomfortably. "It's so white." "Bone, actually." Debbie corrected him. "My favorite color." "Then I love it, too," Fester said, trying to be agreeable. Debbie almost wished he wouldn't be. If she couldn't find a way to kill him, the least he could do was get mad at her and disappear. But no matter how cruel she was to him, he just seemed to keep coming back like a little puppy. "Fester?" she said. "Yes?" "We may be together ... for a while," Debbie said, wincing at the very thought of it. She still hadn't given up the hope of finding some way to kill him. "All our lives, cara mia," Fester said with the look of love. "What?" Debbie asked. "Mon chere," Fester exclaimed. "Speak English!" Debbie said irritably. "Pumpkin," Fester said as he closed the trunk.

"Look," Debbie said, sliding into the backseat. "Let's be frank. If I have to be seen with you, we need to make some changes." "Changes?" Fester asked, puzzled. "Yeah," Debbie said. "Now, get in and drive." The following day several moving trucks drove up to a massive, garish-looking modern colonial mansion surrounded by a broad green lawn and a tall white iron fence. An army of moving men carried an entire house's worth of new furniture through the front door. Debbie stood near the door, holding a clipboard and supervising as the movers carried in an ultramodern chrome and black leather couch with matching chairs. "That's for the living room," she said, pointing down a white hall lined with black and gold columns. Two more men followed, carrying a white and gold French antique. One of the men almost slipped on the thick white shag rug. "Watch it, you bozos!" Debbie shouted. "That's a Louis Quatorze! Fester, get over here!" From inside the house Fester appeared, wearing a thick brown toupee, a new denim shirt with epaulets, stonewashed jeans, and white high-top sneakers. He started to reach toward his head. "What are you doing?" Debbie gasped. "It itches," Fester said. "Don't touch it!" Debbie shouted. "Not until the scab falls off." Fester pulled uncomfortably at his clothes. "Do you think these clothes are really me?" "Of course not!" Debbie said. "That's the point!" Fester was puzzled as to why she wouldn't want him to look like himself, but before he could say anything, a mover approached, carrying an ornate gold lamp whose base was two entwined serpents. "Ma'am, where do you want this?" the moving man asked. "Second floor," Debbie snapped. "In the boudoir. And be careful." The mover nodded, but before he could go up the black and white stairs, Fester stepped in his path. "Hi," he said proudly. "I'm her husband." The mover gave him a strange look and stepped around him. "Fester!" Debbie gave him a sharp look. "Give me a kiss," Fester said, puckering his lips. "Give me a twenty," Debbie shot back. Fester dug into his pocket for the money. Suddenly Debbie saw a familiar-looking car coming down the street toward them. She spun around and gave Fester a push, sending him back into the living room. "Inside!" she shouted. "Go to your room and don't come out until I tell you to." "Why?" Fester asked. "Because I said so," Debbie barked. "Concetta!" A woman in a light blue maid's uniform appeared. "Yes, Miss Debbie?" "Debra," Debbie yelled at the maid. "There are people coming. Send them away." Moments later the Addamses' Rolls Phantom pulled up in front of the house. Morticia got out, carrying Pubert. Granny, Gomez, and Lurch followed. They walked warily up the front steps and rang the doorbell. Concetta pulled open the door. "May I help you?" "We would like to see Debbie and Fester," Morticia said. "I'm sorry, but they're not here," Concetta said. "Fester is," Gomez insisted. "I can smell him."

Concetta turned and yelled into the house. "Miss Debbie!" "It's Debra!" Debbie replied. Concetta held the door open and the Addamses stepped into the white marble entryway and looked around at the black and gold columns in horror. The furniture was covered either in Laura Ashley florals or high-tech pastels, and motel-quality abstract oil paintings hung on the walls. In the middle of it all was a grand white marble staircase with black carpeting. Morticia suddenly froze. "Gomez," she said warily. "Where are we?" "It looks familiar," Granny said, looking around. "Oh, of course! Now I recognize it." "From Trump Towers?" Gomez asked. "No, no, the gates of hell," Granny said. Suddenly Debbie appeared at the top of the stairs. She was wearing an elaborate white peignoir. "Welcome to my home," she said woodenly. "How did you find us so soon?" "We had a hand," Gomez said. On the floor at the base of the stairs, Thing waved at Debbie. "Of all the underhanded tricks," Debbie muttered. "We've brought you some housewarming gifts," Morticia said gaily. Lurch held up a raven in a cage. Granny held up a skull. "It works anywhere, dear," Granny said. Debbie stared at them impassively. "Uh, might we, er, see my brother?" Gomez asked uncomfortably. "No," Debbie replied. "He doesn't want to see you. Any of you. Or that." She pointed at little Pubert nestled in Morticia's arms. "Why not?" Morticia asked. "Because he's in love," Debbie said. "He's wrapped in a gossamer blanket of ecstasy ... and he hates your guts." "But why?" Gomez asked, distraught. "You flaunted yourselves," Debbie said. "You made him feel inferior with your great love affair. You kept him a child. I've made him a man." "Let me hear this from my brother's own lips," Gomez cried. "His lips are busy," Debbie answered coldly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Fester had come out of his room and was cowering in the hallway behind her, unseen by his family. He looked very torn. "Debbie ..." he whimpered. "You wanna talk to these people?" Debbie asked, turning to him, delicately stroking her bare neck and cleavage and licking her lips. She could see that she was having the desired effect on him. "No!" Fester cried. "Go away! All of you!" "That's not my brother!" Gomez shouted in agony from below. "Sorry." Debbie shrugged. "You've enslaved him," Morticia said, pointing a finger at Debbie. "You've placed Fester under some strange sexual spell. I respect that. But please . .. just let us see him." "Don't even think about it," Debbie said coldly. Gomez looked stricken. "You've gone too far," Morticia said angrily. "You have married Fester. You have destroyed his spirit. You

have taken him from us. 1 could forgive all that. But, Debbie .. ." "What?" Debbie asked. Morticia pointed at the paintings. "Pastels?"

Debbie was stung by the insult. "Get outta my house!" "I beg you," Morticia cried. "Be kind to Fester. Love him. Feed him. Walk him." Debbie wasn't interested in her entreaties. "Hit the road!" she shouted. "Get out and take that Thing with you!" Thing struggled across the deep shag rug toward Gomez. "And if you ever show your faces around here again, we'll have you locked up!" Debbie yelled. "For what?" Gomez asked. "For ... trying to visit!" Debbie said. "Right, Fessie?" "Right," Fester whimpered. The family turned and started to file out the door. Suddenly Granny spun around, flung up her arms, and pointed her gnarled fingers at Debbie. "Luxor, nexor, burst and burn!" "What's she doing?" Debbie asked. "It's just a curse," Granny said. "Have a nice day." She went out. Outside, Gomez stopped by the Rolls Phantom and stared back at the horrible white suburban house. "My brother is trapped in there!" he cried with deep-felt pain. "He's a prisoner." "What can we do?" Morticia asked. "The police!" Gomez pointed a righteous finger in the air. "Where?" Granny looked around, frightened. "No, no," Gomez said. "We'll go to the police. They'll help us." "They've never helped us before," Granny said. "There's always a first time," Morticia said hopefully. The interior of the police station was a grim pea soup shade of green. Seated behind the main desk was Sergeant Merth, a weary-looking man whose skin was just a few shades lighter than the walls. As the Addams family entered, he picked up a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and took a big gulp. "Officer," Gomez said. Sergeant Merth raised his hand wearily. "I'm warning you. I've had a bleeding ulcer. I have kidney stones. And I have a headache. Don't push me." "Of course, Officer," Gomez said, lowering his voice. "I have but one single request." "Let's hear it," the police officer said. "I demand justice!" Gomez shrieked, unable to contain himself. "Someone has married my brother!" "No," Sergeant Merth said, deadpan. "She took him to Hawaii!" Gomez cried. "Get outta here," said the sergeant. "They've moved into a large, expensive home, where they make love constantly!" Gomez said. "You got proof!" Sergeant Merth's eyebrows went up. "You got Polaroids?" "You must arrest her at once!" Gomez demanded. "Without delay!" "Who?" "Debbie!" Gomez said. "My brother's wife. The temptress of Waikiki!" As if to add emphasis, Thing climbed up on the sergeant's desk, balled himself into a fist, and banged on it.

Sergeant Merth leaned forward and squinted at him. "Hey, don't I know you?" "Thing?" Gomez stared at the disembodied hand. Suddenly Sergeant Merth remembered. "Lousy pickpocket! Why, I oughta . . ." He took a swing at Thing, but the hand leaped off the desk to safety just in the nick of time. Sergeant Merth turned back to Gomez. "Let me get this straight. You want this babe arrested because she and your brother are having too much fun?" The next words came to Gomez with great pain and difficulty. As if to emphasize the horror into which Fester had lowered himself, Gomez whispered, "They have ... a lawn." "And a mailbox," Granny added. "They mow," Morticia admitted shamefully. "Have you heard enough?" Gomez asked. Sergeant Merth stared at them incredulously. "Who are you people? What are you? Who moved the rock?"

"Officer, you must issue a subpoena!" Gomez insisted. "I believe they own—" "No, Gomez! Don't say it!" Morticia gasped. But it was too late. "—a Buick!" Gomez finished the sentence. "Okay, okay," Sergeant Merth said, gesturing for them to come closer. "I think I get the picture. Here's what I want you to do." The family stepped closer to the desk, and Sergeant Merth leaned over it. "Just leave," he said in a low voice. "Leave quietly. Leave now. Don't make me call the Ringling Brothers." "Has the planet gone mad?" Gomez asked, staggering backward and clutching his head. "My brother has become passion's hostage! I seek justice and it's denied!" He pulled himself together and addressed the entire room. "I shall not submit! I shall conquer! I shall rise! My name is Gomez Addams and I have seen evil!" As if to demonstrate, he took Pubert and held him up. "I have seen horror!" Gomez shouted. Lurch smiled a little and waved at Sergeant Merth. "I have seen the unholy maggots, which feast in the darkest recesses of the human soul!" Gomez cried. "They're at camp," Morticia explained to the sergeant. "I have seen all this, Officer," Gomez cried. "But until today, I had never seen . .. you!" Sergeant Merth turned to another police officer who had just entered the room. "Hook 'em. Book 'em. Cook 'em. Now!" The next thing Gomez knew, the police officer grabbed him by the collar. "You're under arrest."

Chapter 20

The more Debbie thought about it, the less she liked the idea of Fester Addams living in her new house. One hot afternoon she pulled on the skimpiest bathing suit she owned and went out to the pool. On the way down the stairs, she left a roller skate on the top step, a finely sharpened bear trap halfway down, and a large, pointed steel spike at the bottom. Then she called up the stairs, where Fester was taking a nap. "Oh, lovelump?" "Huh?" Fester answered groggily. "I'm going out to the pool and I'm wearing my teeniest bikini," Debbie yelled. "I hope you'll want to join me soon." A few moments later Debbie was reclining on a large plastic raft in the middle of the pool, soaking in the hot summer rays and sipping on a cool bottle of Diet Coke. "Ooops!.. . Ahhhhh!" Snap!. .. Thud! "Ugh!" The series of horrible noises, crashes, and screams was music to her ears. Her husband had just had a terrible accident! Debbie relaxed on the raft and closed her eyes. Once again she was rich and free! "Snuggles?" Debbie's eyes burst open in stark amazement and horror. Fester was standing at the side of the pool, holding the roller skate and the spike. The bear trap was closed tightly around his arm. "What?" Debbie muttered irately. "Nothing," Fester said meekly, removing his debris. Debbie calmed herself down. There was nothing like a challenge when it came to murder. "Want to swim?" she asked, forcing a smile to her lips. "You know I don't know how," Fester said. "Oh, come on," Debbie said, motioning at the water. "It's heated." "But I've told you—I can't swim." "And I told you I'll teach you," Debbie said. "Just jump in." "No!" Fester insisted. "It's like with babies, Fessie," Debbie said. "It's a natural instinct. Toss them in the water and they float. Like croutons." "But what if they don't?" Fester asked. "I mean, what if they sink to the bottom and just stay there?" "The pool man takes care of it," Debbie said with a shrug. Fester was not reassured. "Well, maybe later." He started to turn away. "Fester?" Debbie pouted and pulled down one of her bikini straps. "I'm lonely." "You are?" Fester turned back, his eyes bulging. "Yes," Debbie said. "I'm all alone out on this great big water bed." She slowly undulated on the raft.

"Oooh, I can feel the motion." "You can?" Fester began to breathe heavily. "Oooh . .. Ooooh ..." Debbie kept undulating. "Have you ever made love on a raft?" "No ..." Fester hesitated, but he was clearly interested. Debbie held out her arms. "Jump, darling. Come to me." Without a second thought, Fester held his nose and jumped. Splash! He hit the water and immediately sank. "Help!" He rose to the surface and screamed, then began to thrash around. "Help me! Help! Help!" "Swim!" Debbie yelled with a smile. "I can't!" Fester screamed. "Help!" "Try," Debbie said. "I thought you said it came naturally," Fester gasped. "I thought it did," Debbie said. "But I'm sinking!" Fester kept thrashing. "Well, it was just a theory," Debbie said. Fester kept screaming and thrashing. Debbie picked up her drink and sipped it. Slowly the screaming and thrashing dwindled to a few glub glubs and then to nothing. Fester sank to the bottom of the pool. His toupee floated to the surface. All the thrashing had pushed the raft to the side of the pool. Debbie reached for a cellular phone and dialed 911. "Hello?" a voice said. "Hello," Debbie said, taking her time. "What are you wearing?" she asked seductively. "Ya-hoo!" With a loud splash, Fester once again burst through the surface of the water and pulled himself onto the raft. "That was great!" he cried as he gasped for breath and water dripped off his hairless body. "It worked. I can swim! Like a baby!" Debbie stared at him with a stunned expression and slowly put down the phone. Fester took her hand in his and began to kiss it. "Oh, why did I ever doubt you?" Fester asked happily. "I love you, Debbie Addams." Debbie just gazed back at him in disbelief. She was not amused. "That's Debra," she hissed. At Camp Chippewa it was time for the dress rehearsal. The stage in the auditorium was filled with campers trying on costumes of Pilgrims, Indi ans, turkeys, and pumpkins. Gary stood nearby, teaching a group of campers to sing "Happy Turkey Day," a song of his own creation. With a pincushion taped to her wrist and a tape measure around her neck, Becky Granger knelt before a small raised platform, fitting Amanda Buckman into her costume. Amanda was dressed as Sarah Miller in a perfect black starched dress, a bonnet, and buckled shoes. "Oh, Amanda!" Becky gushed. "You look perfect! You're the prettiest Pilgrim I've ever seen! Gary, come take a look at her!" While Gary was admiring Amanda, the doors to the auditorium swung open and a group of campers came in, pushing Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel ahead of them. "Here they are!" shouted a camper.

"We caught them by the pay phone," reported another. "What were you doing?" Gary asked Wednesday. "Calling the FBI," Wednesday said. "Their uncle is in trouble," Joel explained. "We were running a check on his new wife." "Meanwhile you're late for your fittings," Becky said with a huff. "I don't want to be in the pageant." Wednesday crossed her arms resolutely. "Don't you want to help me realize my vision?" Gary asked. "Your work is puerile and underdramatized," Wednesday said. "You lack any sense of structure, character, or the Aristotelian unities." "Yeah," joined Pugsley. Gary glared at her. "Young lady, I am getting just a tad tired of your attitude problem." "Everyone! Campers!" Becky shouted, clapping her hands. "1 have a wonderful idea. Wednesday, Pugsley, and young Mr. Glicker have never quite latched on to the Chippewa spirit. Nor have some of their little comrades." She paused and pointed at Jamal, Ying, and Mordecai. "Now, isn't that sad?" "Yes!" shouted the other campers, led by Amanda. "Don't we just hate that?" Becky asked. "Yes!" "Don't we wish they would just die?" "Yes!" "Oh, no, we don't." Becky wagged a finger at them. "But you know what we're going to do with them? We're going to make an example! We're going to show them that anyone, no matter how odd or pale or chubby, can still have a darn good time! Whether they like it or not!" "What are you going to do?" Joel asked, trembling. Becky glanced at Gary and nodded. "Oh, no!" Joel shouted. "Yes," Gary said. "Back to the Harmony Hut." They were marched out of the camp theater and over to the Harmony Hut, where Gary ordered them to sit down in front of a large-screen TV while Becky got out a box of videocassettes. "Let's see, now," Gary said, picking up one of the cassettes. "Yes indeedy, this is just the ticket . .. Bambi." "Lassie Come Home," Becky read off the cassette she was holding. "The Little Mermaid," Gary said, holding up another cassette. "Stop it!" Wednesday cried. She couldn't stand it a minute longer. Even the titles nauseated her. With a vicious smile Gary loaded The Little Mermaid into the VCR. Wednesday turned back to Pugsley and Joel. "Pugsley's only a child," Joel gasped. "Don't worry," she whispered. "We're getting out of here." "But it's Disney." Joel shuddered. Wednesday stared at him. Now she knew they were in trouble.

Day dissolved into night. Outside the Harmony Hut, Gary, Becky, and the wholesome campers gathered. Gary knocked on the door. "You can come out now." For a moment nothing happened. Then the brightly painted door swung open slowly. Joel and Pugsley emerged, looking like hollow-eyed zombies. Wednesday followed them, looking morose. "Well, good evening," Gary said with a smirk. "Is there anything you'd like to say to everyone?" "Yes," Wednesday muttered. "And just what might that be?" Becky asked. "I'm not perky," Wednesday said. "That's for damn sure," said Amanda. "But I want to be," Wednesday added. The campers looked shocked. "You do?" Gary asked warily. "I want to smile and sing and dance," Wednesday said as if in a trance. "I want to be Pocahontas in Gary's vision." Becky stepped closer and crouched down until she was at Wednesday's eye level. "Darling, do you really mean it?" Wednesday nodded. Then, very slowly, for the first time in her life, she tried to smile. Soon, with great effort, she produced a terrifyingly perfect grin. "Isn't she pretty?" Becky gasped, overjoyed. "She's scaring me," Amanda Buckman groaned.

Chapter 21

Morticia and a police officer stood outside a cramped jail cell. Inside, Gomez sat with three surly-looking men with scarred faces and ragged clothes. "Addams, you made bail," the police officer said, opening the cell door. Gomez stood up and walked out of the cell somberly. "Darling, are you all right?" Morticia asked with great concern. "I've been in that cell for twenty-four hours," Gomez said. "For one full day I sat beside a thief, a hit-andrun driver, and a man who slaughtered his entire family, sliced them into bricks, and used them to construct a backyard barbecue." "Really?" Morticia's eyes widened. She waved at the men in the cell. "Dinner on Thursday, boys?" she asked gaily. "Our place," Gomez said. They left the police station, and Lurch drove them home. Gomez's concerns for his brother were now mixed with his desire to see his young son, whom he'd missed terribly during the previous twenty-four hours of incarceration. Morticia assured him that the child was all right, but no sooner had they entered their house than they heard a terrible scream. "Ah, music to my ears," Gomez said. "It's good to be home." "Wait, I think it came from the nursery," Morticia said apprehensively. She and Gomez hurried upstairs. The door to the nursery was open and they went in and abruptly stopped. The room was bright and cheerful and filled with sunlight. The walls were covered with smiling cartoon characters, and large stuffed teddy bears and giraffes were scattered about the floor. Gomez and Morticia looked around in horror. Across the room Granny bent over the crib, which was now made of white wicker and lined with blue-and-white-checked fabric. "Stay back!" Granny warned them. "You don't want to see this!" Ignoring her, Morticia and Gomez rushed to the crib. Inside, Pubert lay on Muppet sheets. He was pinkcheeked, chubby, and looked radiantly healthy. His hair was blond and fell in soft ringlets around his bright blue eyes. Cute little gurgles and coos escaped his lips. "Aaaaiiiiieeee!" Gomez grabbed his head and let out a bloodcurdling scream. "My baby!" Morticia shrieked, reaching down for him. "What happened?" "1 don't know," Granny said. "I came up here and found him like this." "Is it terminal?" Gomez gasped. "Surely you can do something, Granny," Morticia pleaded. Granny rubbed her chin. "Let's take him down to the kitchen." A little while later Pubert lay on an ancient threadbare cloth on the kitchen table. At its center was a pentagram with candles burning at its points. A pair of crossed daggers, a monkey's paw, and a shrunken head lay close to the baby. Scattered around the kitchen were antique leather-bound spell books, all open to different pages.

As Gomez and Morticia held each other and watched hopefully, Granny stood over the baby, trying to reverse the spell. Lurch stood nearby. "Gravitas ergito poomba-hex," Granny chanted. "Lurch, the fresh zebra blood." Lurch handed Granny a small vial of red liquid. Granny took a little and dabbed it on Pubert's forehead. "Soil from a grave in Potter's Field," Granny ordered. Thing pulled over a little red wagon heaped with soil. Granny took a handful and made two small piles on either side of Pubert's body. "Gomez, a diet soft drink," Granny ordered. Gomez went to the refrigerator and got her a Diet Coke. Granny took a sip and handed it back. "Thank you," Granny said. She shut her eyes and waved her hands over Pubert, chanting, "Lumbar dison pox and thither, curad brattle, bone and brine!" Granny opened one eye and peeked at Pubert, who hadn't changed. "Bone and brine!" she chanted more loudly. But Pubert remained the same. Granny shrugged. "He's stubborn. This always works on cats." Turning to Lurch, she said, "Are you sure this is fresh zebra blood? Was there a date on it?" Lurch nodded. "Mama, what are we going to do?" Morticia asked despondently. "Is it hopeless?" Gomez asked. Granny picked up one of the books. "Here it is, chapter eighteen. 'Infant Possession.'" "Is he possessed?" Gomez gasped. " 'Warning signs,'" Granny read. " 'Severe alterations in appearance and personality. Such alterations can become permanent.'" "Permanent?" Morticia gasped. "Those golden curls?" "Those rosy cheeks?" Gomez couldn't bear the thought. "That smile?" Morticia shuddered. "I've seen it before," Granny said, and looked down at the book again. " 'These terrifying changes are most often the result of a troubled family life. Separations, deaths, and group appearances on game shows.'" "Separations?" Gomez echoed. "You mean—" "Fester!" Morticia said. "Bingo," said Granny. "This kid knows that something's not right around here. And unless Fester comes back, we're talking dimples!" "Not in this house!" Gomez swore. "Pubert could stay this way for years. Forever. He could become ..." Granny looked down at her book. "A lawyer!" "I won't listen to this!" Gomez cried, clasping his hands over his ears. "Or an orthodontist," Granny said, reading from the book. "Mama! Stop!" Morticia gasped. "Even president," Granny said. The thought was so horrible that even Lurch staggered, groaning, from the room. Morticia shut her eyes. Gomez fell to his knees and raised his hands toward the heavens. "Please, I beg you!" he screamed. "Take me!" A second later he fainted and collapsed on the floor. The Camp Chippewa theater was filled with proud parents. Their view of the stage was momentarily obscured by a curtain decorated with crudely painted images of the Pilgrims, Indians, and two large portraits of Becky and

Gary Granger. The Grangers themselves stood at center stage, dressed in khaki and plaid attire. Becky also wore a headband with a feather, while Gary sported a Pilgrim hat. "Welcome Chippewa parents and friends," Gary spoke into a microphone. "What a splendid turnout. I've been told that every last mom and dad is here, with the exception of Gomez and Morticia Addams, who are at home with a sick baby." "What a shame," Becky said. "I think it's pretty selfish," said Gary. "Anyway, each summer we take this occasion to celebrate a seminal event in American history. In past years we've presented stirring musical dramatizations of the Battle of Gettysburg." "The signing of the Declaration of Independence," said Becky. "And the Johnny Carson farewell," said Gary. "But this year we will depict perhaps the most important day in our shared past," Becky said. "The first Thanksgiving." "A day for maize—the Native American word for corn," Gary continued. "The day for a terrific turkey dinner

and for brotherhood. So, white meat and dark meat, take it away!" The Grangers stepped to the side, and the curtains parted to reveal the town square of a Pilgrim village lined with thatched huts, flimsy trees, wooden stocks, and a backdrop of painted hills and clouds. A group of campers dressed as turkeys, pumpkins, and ears of corn gathered on the stage and started to sing one of Gary's songs: "Eat us, Pilgrims and Indians, Eat us, grab your knives and forks, Eat us on Thanksgiving Day!" When the song ended, a long wooden table was set up across the stage. The table was decorated with a papier-mache feast. Amanda Buckman, dressed as Sarah Miller, stood at center stage while her friends, dressed as Pilgrims, surrounded her. "I am so glad we have invited the Chippewas to join us for this holiday meal," Amanda proclaimed a bit stiffly. "Remember that these savages are our guests. We must not be surprised at any of their strange customs. After all, they have not had the advantages we have had, such as fine schools, libraries filled with books, and shampoo combined with conditioner." In the audience, Ellen Buckman was tearful watching her daughter. "So beautiful. And bright." Wednesday entered the stage dressed as Pocahontas. Holding her hand was Joel, wearing an Indian loincloth over his boxer shorts, a beaded breastplate over his white vee-necked T-shirt, long tube socks, and moccasins. The other Indian outcasts stood behind them. In the audience, Mr. and Mrs. Glicker slouched down in their seats. Mrs. Glicker looked longingly at Amanda and whispered, "Amanda Buckman. Thirteen. And thin." "Twenty grand for summer camp, and he's Mr. Woo-woo," moped Mr. Glicker. "How," said Wednesday onstage, raising her hand in greeting. "I am Pocahontas, a Chippewa maiden." "And I am Running Bear, betrothed to Pocahontas," Joel said. "In the play." The Glickers slouched down even farther. On the side of the stage, Becky clutched her husband's arm, thrilled as his vision came to life. "We have brought a special gift for this holiday feast," Wednesday said. Pugsley walked onto the stage, dressed as a turkey. "I am a turkey," he said. "Kill me." "What a thoughtful gift," Amanda said. "Why, you are as civilized as we are. Except we wear shoes and have last names. Welcome to our table, our new primitive friends." "Thank you, Sarah Miller," Wednesday said. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Your

hair is the color of the sun, your skin is like fresh milk, and everyone loves you." "Stop, sit," Amanda said. The Indians and Pilgrims started to move toward the table. "Wait," Wednesday said. Offstage, Becky stared down at her script, puzzled. "What?" Amanda asked awkwardly, caught by surprise. "We cannot break bread with you," Wednesday said. Amanda glanced nervously offstage at Becky. Wednesday was deviating from the script. "You have taken land which is rightfully ours," Wednesday stated. "Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the roadside. You will play golf and enjoy hot hors d'oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, 'Do not trust the Pilgrims. Especially Sarah Miller.'" Jamal began to pound a drum. Amanda looked pleadingly at the Grangers, and whined, "Gary!" "Wednesday!" Becky hissed. "Stop making things up!" But Wednesday ignored her. "For all of the above reasons, I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground." "Wooo-wooo-wooo!" Joel whooped wildly. Mordecai shot a flaming arrow at one of the thatched huts, setting it ablaze. The rest of the Indians began to chase the pilgrims, shooting them with suction-cup arrows and wrestling them to the ground. Amanda was covered with arrows. "Becky!" she screamed. "Children!" Becky shouted, trying to restore order. "Campers!" "Stop it!" Gary yelled. "You're destroying my script!" The Indians began to tie up Amanda with rope. Parents in the audience were standing and pointing. Mayhem reigned everywhere. Meanwhile Wednesday, Pugsley, and Joel snuck off the stage. It was time for them to make their final escape. "I can't believe it," Joel whispered as they snuck out the back door of the theater. "The parents on fire! Amanda is tied to a stake! Becky and Gary are being held hostage! The entire camp is going to be destroyed!" For the second time in her life, Wednesday actually smiled. Only this time she was really happy. The joyful trio ran through the dark woods and soon reached the fence that circled the perimeter of the camp. Earlier that day, Joel had cut a hole through the barbed wire to prepare for the escape. Wednesday and Pugsley climbed over the fence. Suddenly Wednesday realized that Joel hadn't followed them. "Come on." She waved at him. "No, I have to go back," Joel said, pointing at the dark gray mushroom cloud rising over the camp. "For the others." "You're very brave," Wednesday said solemnly. "And to watch the place burn," Joel said with a grin. "You go. Save your uncle." In the distance a siren began to blare and they could hear the dogs barking. "Come on!" Pugsley said impatiently. But Wednesday didn't come. Instead she climbed back onto the fence. On the other side Joel also climbed up. They faced each other through the hole in the barbed wire. "Joel—I may never see you again," she said, staring up into his eyes. "I know." Joel nodded glumly. "There are forces that are tearing us apart," Wednesday said. "Gary, Debbie, seventh grade." "I'll never forget you," Joel said, reaching for her hand. "You won't?" Wednesday looked surprised.

"No," Joel said tenderly. "You're too weird." "We'll always have tonight," Wednesday said, squeezing his hand. "And Chippewa." "And this," Joel said, holding up something pink, made of plastic and wire. "What is it?" Wednesday asked. "Amanda Buckman's retainer," Joel said, handing it to her. "Oh, Joel. . ." Wednesday felt her heart flutter as she cupped the retainer in her hands. "Cara mia," Joel said softly. "Mon cher." Wednesday shut her eyes. They leaned forward and kissed.... Then both wiped their mouths.

Chapter 22

On the way home from the bomb maker's, Debbie stopped at the passport office. She filled out an application and stood on line. When her turn came she stepped up to the scratched Plexiglas window and spoke to the clerk. "I'd like to renew my passport," she said. "I'll be leaving the country very shortly." "Very good," the clerk said as he reviewed her papers. "Will you be traveling alone?" "Yes," Debbie replied. "I'll be a widow." Renewed passport in hand, Debbie drove home. Fester was down in the kitchen, and she went upstairs and locked the bedroom door. Inside, sitting at her vanity, she took the ticking bomb out of her bag. It was now 5:30, and she set the digital readout for 6:30. Then she placed it in a light blue gift box roughly the size of a loaf of bread, and wrapped it with a silver bow. She was just about to take the bomb downstairs when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She made her eyes wide with panic. "But, Officer!" she gasped. "My husband was in that house!" She smiled and pulled open a drawer below the vanity, taking out a black veil. Placing the veil on her head, she stared at the mirror and practiced a sniff. "Thank you," she said with studied sorrow. "It was such a senseless tragedy." She laughed out loud, picked up the gift box, and headed down to the kitchen. Fester—wearing oven mitts and an apron, both covered with frilly little hearts—was cooking a roast. Debbie placed the gift box on the tiled kitchen counter. She looked around at the custom-made wood cabinets and the expensive leaded windows. What a waste, she thought sadly. "Just think," Fester said glowingly. "Our three-week anniversary!" "Angel, I'm going out for just a minute," Debbie said. "I forgot the champagne." "I'll go, sugarplum," Fester volunteered. "No, no, sweety-pooh," Debbie said quickly. "You're working hard enough. I'm leaving your present on the table. Don't peek?" "Oh, please, please!" Fester begged. "No. Not until I return." "Is it string?" Fester asked hopefully. "You never know," Debbie said with a smile. "Is it a dog toy?" Fester asked hopefully. "Just you wait." "Is it a bomb?" Debbie momentarily lost her breath. "What?"

"I know," Fester said, disappointed. "Wait for my birthday." "Exactly." Debbie breathed a little easier. "Do you have my list?" Fester took the piece of paper and read. " 'Cook dinner. Seal all doors and windows. Turn on all the gas jets. Wait for Debbie.' Check!" he said brightly. "Oh, Fester." Debbie suddenly felt the tiniest glimmer of affection. "Let me look at you. I always want to remember you just this way." "What do you mean?" Fester asked. "Rich," Debbie explained. "Will you miss me?" "But you'll be right back, won't you?" Fester asked. "Of course," Debbie said as she picked up two large suitcases and headed toward the front door. After she left, Fester set out two elaborate place settings, candlesticks, and floral arrangements. He kept looking at the gift box, which was ticking loudly. He was so curious to see what was inside, but he'd promised Debbie he'd wait, and that was what he was going to do. As Debbie pulled out of the driveway, she thought she saw that annoying hand, Thing, dash across the street. But when she looked, it was gone. It must have been her imagination. She was very glad that she would soon be finished with these Addams family freaks. It was a matter of less than an hour now. She drove to a nearby bar featuring a nautical theme. Shrimp nets and lobster pots hung from the ceiling, and the tables were made of old ship's hatches. Inside, half a dozen sailors sitting at a round table whistled and called to her to join them, which she promptly did, treating them all to champagne. The hour passed quickly. Debbie and the sailors sang bawdy songs and told dirty jokes. Debbie was enjoying herself so much that she almost forgot her plan. "Wait!" She suddenly jumped up from the table. "Hold it! What time is it, Jorge?" Jorge, a husky sailor with a thick blond beard, checked his pocket watch. "Six twenty-five." "Ooops! Gotta go!" Debbie picked up her bag. The sailors begged her to stay. "Please stay!" "One more round!" "Don't go now!" "I have to," Debbie said. "It's my anniversary. But you guys can wait. I'll be right back." "Your husband!" Jorge shouted as she left. "He is a very lucky man!" "Don't say that!" Debbie gasped. She drove home quickly. KA-BOOM! Just as she was turning onto her street, there was a tremendous explosion. The white colonial mansion disappeared in a giant ball of black smoke and flames. Debris showered down around the Buick. Debbie pulled over and rolled the windows up so no soot would get in the car. Then she calmly put on a fresh coat of lipstick. She waited a few moments more, until the flames and smoke had abated a bit, and then drove into the driveway. She left the car engine running; she didn't expect to stay long. The heat from the fire was intense. The only things visible above the smoke and flames were the marble staircase and the remains of the chimneys. "Help, help," she said rather sweetly. "Did someone call for help?" a voice asked. From out of the smoke and fire stepped a soot-covered Fester carrying a charred roast on a tarnished silver platter. His clothes were tattered and wisps of smoke rose from his head. "Did you get the champagne, sweetheart?" he asked. Debbie lost control. She just couldn't stand it anymore! Reaching into her purse, she drew out a revolver. "Freeze!" she shouted, aiming it at Fester.

"Pookie?" Fester looked confused. "Who are you?" Debbie screeched. "What are you?" "I'm your husband," Fester said. Debbie kept the gun trained on him. "I tried to make it look like an accident. I tried to give you some dignity. But, oh, no, not you!" "What are you saying?" Fester gasped. "I'm saying our marriage is a ridiculous sham!" Debbie shouted. "I'm saying I want you dead, and I want your money!" "But don't you love me?" Fester asked. Debbie let out a crazed, contemptuous laugh. "Is that a no?" Fester asked. "Do I love you?" Debbie shouted. "Look at yourself! You're a nightmare in a cheap toupee! No woman in her right mind could love you!" She sighted the gun on him and started to pull the trigger. "But, honeylamb . .. sugarplum ..." Fester stammered. "You can't mean that." Debbie's finger tightened slowly. "Buttercup?" Fester swallowed. Thunk! Without warning, the Buick rolled into Debbie, knocking her off the side of the driveway and into a flower bed. Fester stared into the car in amazement. "Thing!" he shouted. In the driver's seat Thing gestured for Fester to get in. Fester jumped into the car, and Thing jammed it into reverse. The tires squealed as they backed out of the driveway and down into the street. Debbie jumped up and fired a wild shot. In the grand tradition of evil witches, she shouted, "I'll get you! And your little hand, too!" Mortally stricken by the transformation in his infant son, Gomez had taken to bed. Morticia sat in the sunny nursery, struggling to read a Dr. Seuss book to Pubert. She lowered the book and stared at her blond cherub. "Are you really enjoying this?" she asked woefully. Pubert smiled and cooed happily. Morticia shook her head sadly. "To think a child of mine . . ." she muttered despondently. She pulled herself together and tried to continue. The book was horrible. The only possible redeeming quality it could have would be if somehow that awful cat met an untimely death. Unable to restrain herself, Morticia flipped to the end of the book. "Oh, no!" she gasped. "He lives!" The nursery door swung open and Granny dashed in. "Hurry! It's Gomez!" Morticia put down the book and ran after Granny toward the master bedroom. There Gomez lay in bed, wearing maroon pajamas and a fez. He looked paler than usual and his eyes were slightly sunken. The bed was surrounded by filmy glass tubes and arcane copper medical devices with small fires burning beneath them. Morticia sat beside him and took his hand. "Fester, Fester . .." Gomez moaned deliriously. "Lie still, mon cher," Morticia whispered gently. "Have some soup," Granny said, holding a steaming tablespoon to his lips. "Just a taste before it clots." But instead Gomez broke into song: "Swing low, sweet chariot, comin' for to carry me home ..." "Oh, Mama," Morticia cried. "My baby is ill and my husband is dying. What should I do?" "Well, you've got a black dress," Granny said.

Suddenly the door swung open and Fester staggered into the room, breathing heavily. "Gomez! Morticia! Granny!" he cried happily. "Fester!" Morticia shouted. "Fester?" Gomez yelled deliriously, his eyes darting around wildly. "Where is Fester?" "He's right here, mon cher," Morticia said, leading Fester to the edge of the bed. Fester knelt beside his ailing brother and clasped his sweaty palm. "It's me, Gomez," he said emotionally. "I'm so sorry. I've tried to be someone I'm not. Someone terrible. Someone wrong. Someone clean. I live in shame ... and in the suburbs." "But you belong to Debbie," Gomez replied deliriously. "You are Debbie's love toy. You are . . . Mr. Debbie!" "No!" Fester insisted firmly. "I am an Addams!" He took his brother's sweaty palm and placed it on his bald head. "Fester!" Gomez cried, coming out of his delirium. He sat up in bed and embraced Fester. "Oh, Mama!" Morticia whispered as she watched them. Tears of joy ran down her face. "Can you ever forgive me?" Fester begged his brother. "For all I've done? The betrayal? The destruction of our most sacred bond . .. and even worse than that..." "What, Fester?" Gomez asked. But Fester was so ashamed, he could hardly speak. "Tell me, Fester." "I... I sent the children to camp!" The door creaked. Everyone turned. Standing in the doorway were Wednesday and Pugsley. "Children!" Fester shouted. "Uncle Fester!" Pugsley ran to Fester and hugged him. Wednesday held back. Fester beckoned to her over Pugsley's shoulder. "My darling." "You sent us to camp," Wednesday said angrily. "I'm an animal!" Fester cried, racked with guilt. "They made us sing," Wednesday said bitterly. Fester gave her a helpless, shamefaced look. Finally Wednesday sighed and ran to him. Fester took her in his arms and hugged her. "My own dear family!" he cried. "How I've missed you all!" Out of the corner of his eye Fester saw Lurch lurking by the door, looking a little lonely. "Every last one of you!" Fester said. A small smile appeared on Lurch's face as he bashfully joined the group around Gomez's bed. Then Thing appeared in the doorway.

"My savior!" Fester exclaimed. Thing scampered over and pounced on Fester's head, where he happily massaged his scalp. "Oh, Gomez," Morticia said joyously. "Our family ... all together at last. Three generations. Above ground." "In-laws," someone muttered coldly. The Addamses turned toward the doorway, where Debbie stood, muddy and seething. Her hair was frizzed out and there was a maniacal glint in her eye. She was training a black AK-47 assault rifle at them. Bandoliers of ammunition crisscrossed her chest. "Debbie!" Fester gasped. Debbie motioned at them with the barrel of the gun. "Get up. Put your hands on your heads. We're going

upstairs to the screening room." With their hands on their heads, the Addams family slowly marched up the stairs. Thing followed with two fingers raised high. Debbie was behind him. In the attic screening room she strapped them all into the electric chairs, and taped Thing up in black electrical tape before hooking him up to jumper cables. "I don't want to hurt anybody," Debbie said in a surprisingly sweet, rational voice as she set up the screen. "I don't enjoy hurting people. It's not my fault. You understand that, don't you?" Seated with their heads, arms, and legs immobilized in the electric chairs, Gomez, Morticia, Fester, Granny, Wednesday, Pugsley, and Lurch regarded her calmly. "Of course we understand," Morticia said graciously. "You're a serial killer," Gomez added with admiration. "Well, I don't understand," said Pugsley. "When you're older," Wednesday assured him. "Hey, listen up," Debbie said as she set up the slide machine. "I don't like guns or bombs or electric chairs. But sometimes people just won't listen. So I have to use persuasion ... and slides." The room suddenly went dark and the first slide appeared on the screen. The Addams family found themselves staring at a smiling middle-aged couple seated in lawn chairs in front of a small pink ranch house. "My parents, Sharon and Dave," Debbie said solemnly. "Doting, generous ... or were they? All I ever wanted was a Ballerina Barbie in her pretty pink tutu. It was my tenth birthday. Do you know what they got me?" The Addamses would have shaken their heads if they could. Another slide appeared on the screen—a tanned Barbie doll wearing a pink bikini. "Malibu Barbie!" exclaimed Debbie. "Malibu Barbie!" Morticia said sympathetically. "The nightmare," Gomez agreed. "The tan." Granny shuddered. "That wasn't what I wanted. That wasn't who I was! I was a ballerina! Graceful, delicate ..." Debbie shook her head mournfully. Now a slide of the pink ranch house in flames flashed onto the screen. "My parents had to go," Debbie said coldly. The next slide showed a handsome man wearing a green medical scrub suit. "My first husband, the heart surgeon," Debbie said. "All day long it was coronaris and transplants." "And what about your needs?" Granny asked. "He was never home for dinner," Debbie said sadly. "It was always 'Sorry I missed dinner, Deb. The pope has a cold.'" The next slide showed the surgeon cowering in a corner with the shadow of someone holding an ax looming over him. "An ax, Debbie?" Gomez asked, fascinated. "Ah, yes," Granny said nostalgically. "That takes me back." Next on the screen appeared a stiff-looking man in a dark suit, standing in front of an American flag. "Husband number two," Debbie said. "The senator. He loved his state. He loved his country ..." "But once again," Morticia said with sympathy, "what about Debbie?" Debbie nodded. "He said, 'Sorry, Debbie, no Mercedes this year. We have to set an example.' Oh yeah? Set this!" The next slide showed the senator in the driveway of his brownstone, backing away in terror, illuminated by the headlights of an oncoming Mercedes. "Love and marriage ..." Gomez sighed wistfully. "Hit and run," said Granny.

"There was a third husband," Debbie said. "But I think you get the idea." Another slide filled the screen. It was a portrait of Debbie and Fester from their recent wedding. "My last husband," Debbie said. "My latest husband. My soon-to-be late husband, Fester." "The fool," Fester muttered bitterly. "The lover," Morticia reassured him. "The husband," Gomez added. "The corpse," Debbie said flatly, "and his adorable family. You took me in. You accepted me. You gave me a wedding. But did any of you love me? I mean, really love me?" Gomez looked around at his family. "Could we have a show of hands?" But all their hands were restrained. Debbie nodded as if that proved her point. "All I ever wanted was love. Just love. All I ever wanted was to be ... a Hollywood wife. Debbie, the overdressed widow. And maybe, someday, in my schoolgirl dreams, Debbie, the abusive mom ..." She turned dramatically to the family. "Was I so wrong? So what if I killed and maimed? Aren't I a human being just like everyone else? Don't I yearn and ache and shop? Don't I deserve love? And jewelry?" The various members of the Addams family nodded as much as their restraints would allow. But Debbie paid no heed. She stepped over to the wall and reached for an industrial-size electrical switch that was connected by a complicated array of wires to the electric chairs and Thing. Morticia gazed over at her husband. "Adieu, mon cher." "Adios, cara mia," Gomez whispered back tenderly. "Debbie, please," Granny said. "I'm the oldest. I've lived a long, full life ... Let me live and I'll show you around." "Sorry," Debbie replied. "Let the rest of them go," Fester pleaded. "Take me and my money. For what I've done, I deserve to die." "That's too sweet," Morticia said. "But we couldn't," added Gomez. "He did send us to camp," Wednesday reminded everyone. Fester had had enough. Anger replaced his terror and he lashed out at Debbie. "You never loved me, did you? You didn't mean a word you said about wanting me, needing me, visiting my grave!" "Not a word!" Debbie snapped. "Well, it's your loss!" Fester said angrily. "Because I did love you. I knew that sacred emotion. And what do you have? Bloodlust and spite and the fever to kill. It isn't enough." "Now, Fester," Gomez said, cautioning him. "Maybe it's not enough for you." "It's not right to judge," Morticia reminded him. "Good-bye, everyone," Debbie said, closing her hand around the electric-switch lever. "Wish me luck." "Good luck!" Everyone shouted. Debbie pulled the lever down. The Addamses shut their eyes and waited for the massive jolt that would scramble their protoplasm once and for all. Zzzzzzzzzzztttttttt! They heard a loud buzzing sound. They braced themselves. Nothing happened. ... One by one they opened their eyes and saw a terrifying sight. Frozen in midair, every limb and hair extended to its fullest length, Debbie was completely illuminated by a huge bolt of electrical power.

In a flashing, dazzling shower of sparks, Debbie quickly disintegrated. Soon there was nothing left except a small smoldering pile of gaudy earrings, spiked heels, and charge cards. "How?" Gomez asked in wonder. "Look!" Morticia gasped. Tangled in the mass of electric wires was Pubert, once again restored to his pale, growling, mus-tached young self. "He's been chewing on the wires!" Granny cried. "He must have short-circuited the electricity," Gomez said. "He saved us!" Wednesday shouted with uncharacteristic glee. "Does that mean he's teething?" Fester asked.

Chapter 23

The following winter, it was Pubert's first birthday. For the occasion the great room was decorated with black balloons and faded, sagging streamers. Pugsley held Pubert on his lap. "Hi, Pubert. Hi, baby," he said, rocking him gently. "It's your birthday!" Morticia and Gomez stood in the doorway, watching proudly. "And to think we were worried about the children and Pubert," Morticia said with a chuckle. "Perhaps Debbie taught us all something," Gomez said, sliding his arm around her waist. "Something about love." "Come, dear," Morticia said, pulling him toward the kitchen. "We have to prepare for the party." The proud parents left the room. As soon as they were gone, Pugsley put Pubert down and winked at Wednesday, who came toward them, pulling a toy car. "Here, Pubert," she said sweetly. "Here's a present. I love you." Wednesday put the toy down and started to pull it across the floor. Pubert eagerly followed. As he crawled, a

series of razor-sharp blades fell from the ceiling. Amazingly, each one missed him by a mere fraction of an inch. Wednesday pulled the toy across a narrow two-by-four stretched over a huge gaping hole in the floor, and somehow Pubert followed without losing his balance. Two bowling balls crashed together, just barely missing him, and finally a safe crashed to the floor just as Pubert passed. A moment later the baby caught up with the pull toy. "Here," Wednesday snapped, disgusted that nothing had worked. "Happy birthday." Fester entered the room, carrying an armload of gifts. "Come, children," he said merrily. "We have gifts to wrap." Wednesday and Pugsley joined him at the table. "A birthday party," Fester said gleefully. "What a treat! And to think that I might have missed all this! What was I thinking of?" "Physical pleasure," Wednesday replied. "Yeah, Uncle Fester," Pugsley said. "Do you miss Debbie?" "Well —" Fester pressed the tips of his fingers together. "Yes. Sometimes, late at night, I remember how she'd turn to me and say, 'Jesus, Fester, go back to your room.'" "Ooot oot glip!" Cousin It came into the room, pushing a stroller and followed by his adoring wife, Margaret. "Are we late?" Margaret asked. "Not at all," Fester said. "We're just getting ready for the party." "I hope no one minds that we brought along a guest," Margaret said. A gleamingly bald woman wearing a nanny's uniform entered the room. "This is our new nanny, Dementia," Margaret said. Dementia smiled at Fester, revealing empty pink gums and a single, crooked tooth. Fester's mouth fell open and his eyes grew big. His heart began to beat fast and his rash began to itch. "How do you do?" he managed to stammer. Joel entered next. He'd slicked back his hair and was dressed in a velvet smoking jacket. "How do I look?" he asked Wednesday. "Disturbing," Wednesday replied. Now Morticia and Gomez entered. Gomez carried an open bottle of champagne, and Morticia brought long fluted glasses. "A toast!" Gomez announced as Morticia handed out the glasses of champagne. "To the glorious mysteries of life! To all that binds a family as one! To mirth, to merriment, to manslaughter!" "Here here!" Everyone shouted. "Indeed!" "Bravo!" "To dear friends," Gomez said, toasting Cousin It, Margaret, and What. "To new friends," Gomez toasted Fester and Dementia. "To youth!" He raised his glass to Wednesday and Joel. Gomez turned to Morticia and raised his glass. "To passion." "To paradise," Morticia said, touching her glass to his. "To pain!" Gomez whispered passionately. "Tonight!" Morticia whispered her promise back.

"Make way for the birthday boy!" Granny yelled, carrying Pubert into the room. Pugsley followed, pushing a tall brownish cake in a wheelbarrow. "Thing, will you do the honors?" Gomez asked. Thing whipped out a silver Zippo lighter and lit the single candle in the middle of the cake. Sitting at the organ and wearing a cone-shaped party hat, Lurch began to play "Happy Birthday." Everybody sang "Happy Birthday" to Pubert. Granny held the baby close to the cake so that he could blow out the candle. Ka-boooooom! Outside, the seemingly dark, quiet house shuddered. Every window filled with fiery light as a huge fireball exploded within and threatened to blow the house apart. A second later the fireball burned out. The house became strangely still. Then the sounds of laughter, clapping ... and an occasional howl.. . could be heard coming from inside. Things at the Addams family residence were normal again.

About the Author Todd Strasser has written many award-winning novels for adults and teenagers. He speaks frequently at schools about the craft of writing and conducts writing workshops for young people. Several of his works have been adapted for the screen, including Workin' for Peanuts, A Very Touchy Subject, and Over the Limit, which he adapted himself. A former newspaper reporter and advertising copywriter, Strasser worked for several years as a television scriptwriter on such shows as The Guiding Light, Tribes, and Riviera. He is the author of more than forty novels.