"Listen, I won't be home for dinner Friday," Wednesday informed her mother.
"Why, Darling?" asked Morticia.
"Lucas' parents are in town and I'm having dinner with them," replied Wednesday.
"Lucas? Lucas what?" her mother quizzed.
"Beineke."
"Beineke," repeated Morticia, "oh, and where are they from?"
"Ohio," Wednesday divulged.
"Ohio! How exotic!" she paused, "We'll have them over here."
"Bad idea!" exclaimed Wednesday turning finally to look at her mother.
"Not at all, new friends, a lovely dinner, and we'll play the game," listed Morticia.
"No mother," Wednesday tried to reason, "not the game!"
"Why not?" asked Morticia, "you should try listening to your mother more often, she does know best."
"Mum, please" begged Wednesday.
Morticia paused, "Wednesday, you don't usually act like this, what's come over you?"
"I'm in love," Wednesday cried out after a moments hesitation.
Morticia smiled coyly and nodded, "Okay, dear."
"Wait, what?!" asked Wednesday, shocked, "really?"
"Yes, that way when you break up, your father won't be so upset, he does get rather attached to your boyfriends after all."
"Thank you for your faith, Mother, but this is real, and Lucas and I aren't going to be breaking up, I assure you," replied Wednesday, growing irritated at her mother's undermining her.
"Okay," repeated Morticia, as she turned to Cleopatra and tickled the plant's chin.
Friday came much sooner than Wednesday had anticipated. She woke up that morning with a feeling of dread in her heart, and for once, it was not a pleasant feeling. She got dressed quickly and went downstairs, crossbow in tow.
"Good morning, Paloma," called Gomez as Wednesday passed him in the hall.
She turned to glare at him, not in the mood for pleasantries. Gomez smiled at his daughter as she passed, recognising her mood.
The girl made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen. She threw herself into one of the wooden chairs at the table. Morticia turned from the stove, where she was preparing some henbane tea for herself and her husband, when she heard the thump of her daughter sitting down.
"Good morning Darling," she said absentmindedly as she turned back the near boiling pot of water.
Wednesday watched her mother as she poured the water into the tea pot. The older woman lifted the two spouted tea pot and carried it to the table, where she left it to sit. At that moment Pugsley bolted into the kitchen, creating a chaotic atmosphere in the room that had only seconds earlier held one of serenity.
"Morning Mother," he said, standing on his toes to kiss Morticia on the cheek.
"Good morning Pugsley darling," she replied.
"Morning Wednes," he said boisterously, "oh, are you going hunting today, can I come?" he asked, noticing the crossbow that was hanging on the back of his sister's chair.
Wednesday frowned at him. Pugsley ignored her and opened the pantry door, pulling out some mouldy bread.
He put two slices into the rusting toaster, "Want some Wednesday?"
Crossing her arms over her stomach, his sister shook her head, still frowning. Morticia turned to look at the girl.
"Are you feeling all right Wednesday?" she asked, concerned as she walked over to the girl.
She rested the back of her hand on her daughter's head for a moment, "You have a temperature, perhaps you should stay home tonight?"
"No!" protested Wednesday, speaking at last.
At that moment Gomez walked into the kitchen, "What's this?" he asked, walking over to his slightly shocked looking wife and wrapping his arms gently around her waist.
"Wednesday's got a temperature," replied Morticia.
"No I don't, she just doesn't want me to go out tonight," Wednesday grouched.
Gomez let go of his wife and felt his daughter's head. It was indeed slightly above room temperature.
"You do," Gomez agreed with his wife, "Where are you going tonight, Paloma?"
Wednesday grabbed her bow and attempted to storm out of the room.
"Answer your father dear," said Morticia.
Wednesday glared at her mother, she wheeled around back towards the door, straight into Lurch.
"Ow!" she cried, out of shock rather than pain, begrudgingly she slowly turned back to her father, "I'm going to have dinner with Lucas and his parents," she divulged, looking crossly at her mother.
"Lucas?" asked Pugsley and Gomez simultaneously.
"That's a boy's name," said Gomez incredulously.
Wednesday groaned.
"Wednesday has a new beau," elaborated Morticia, "his parent's are in town."
"Why don't you invite them over here?" suggested Pugsley.
Wednesday glared at her brother, "Why do you think?" she spat.
"Wednesday can't be old enough to date," muttered Gomez, to no one in particular.
"She's growing up," Morticia replied.
Wednesday moaned and attempted to bury her face in her hands.
Wednesday checked her father's pocket watch at around twelve o'clock. She was out hunting, and had already bagged two pigeons. She still had six hours before she had to be at Lucas' apartment. She figured that she had plenty of time to keep hunting, so, deciding to skip lunch she picked up her bow, clipped the stolen fob back to her collar and resumed her activities.
Nearly crashing into her mother, Wednesday came running into the Addams family mansion covered in pigeon blood and dirt. She had tripped over a small tree stump and fallen down a ditch, on top of her three pigeons, which had covered her in blood as she rolled down the ditch.
"Wednesday, it's five o'clock," Morticia began to scold, then she noticed the state her daughter was in, "what happened?"
Wednesday shook her head, embarrassed to tell her mother about her clumsiness. She stormed past Morticia, dropping the muddy pigeons at her feet, "Here's dinner."
Morticia picked up the filthy birds and pulled a noose hanging from the ceiling.
"You rang?"
"Yes Lurch, would you please take these to the kitchen and give them to Mama?" instructed Morticia.
The butler took the birds with a disgusted look on his face and carried them away.
Wednesday had showered and washed her hair as fast as she could.
There was a knock on the door, "Wednesday?" it was her mother.
"Come in," grumbled Wednesday.
Morticia walked in and observed her daughter for a moment. The girl was clad only in a towel.
"You do realise you have to be there at six right? You know that's thirty minutes from now?" asked Morticia, slightly amused.
"Yes," Wednesday replied in irritation.
Morticia nodded, "You'll have to get Lurch to drive you, or you'll be late. I'll tell him to bring the car around."
Wednesday came down the stairs in a yellow dress. Morticia and Gomez were waiting at the door to bid their daughter farewell, both of their faces could be read as extreme shock.
"What are you wearing?" asked Morticia in disgust.
"A dress," replied Wednesday, marginally embarrassed about being analysed by her parents, but mostly annoyed.
"A yellow dress?" asked Morticia.
"Paloma, what happened?" asked Gomez, still in shock, "You look like a crime scene."
"Wednesday," instructed Morticia, "why don't you go back up stairs and put on something more appropriate."
"Mother," Wednesday snapped, storming up to Morticia stopping only at a threatening closeness to her, "I've worn the same thing, everyday, for eighteen years."
"Yes," agreed Morticia, half-heartedly attempting to move her head away, so as not to hurt her eyes from the brightness, "we don't wear bright colours, bright colours are for people with no inner life, and no imagination."
"Mother, please," begged Wednesday, "I just want Lucas' parents to like me."
"Querida, why don't we let her, just this once," suggested Gomez.
Morticia thought it over, "All right Darling."
"You sure?" asked Wednesday.
"Yes, you don't have time to change. Lurch is waiting in the car for you," replied Morticia.
Wednesday grabbed her coat from the hanger by the door and hurried outside, "Bye," she called over her shoulder.
Morticia and Gomez stood in the grand entrance to their home as the watched Wednesday get into the car.
Wednesday arrived at Lucas' apartment building ten minutes late. She bade a quick farewell to Lurch and hurried up the stairs leading to the apartment. She stopped briefly outside the door to compose herself. Then she knocked. The door was opened almost instantly. Ecstatic to see her love, she pulled him into a strong embrace, she was just about to commence a desperate snog when she was interrupted by a throaty cough behind Lucas.
She let go of him and smiled politely at the older couple who were staring at them, the woman seemed somewhat amused, the man however looked rather annoyed.
"Hi, I'm Wednesday," she stepped forward.
Lucas jumped between his girlfriend and his parents, "Di, this is my mother, Alice Beineke; and my father, Mal Beineke."
"Pleased to meet you," Wednesday curtsied slightly.
Lucas held back a laugh at how formal she was being, "My mom made dinner," he told her in a hushed tone.
Wednesday's eyes widened. She and Lucas had already discussed the meal and it was planned that Lucas would be cooking, making sure that her food was extremely raw, and where he could manage it, off.
Alice spoke up, "I think it's nearly ready, I'll just go and check on it, Mal, would you please help me with the drinks?"
"Sure," replied Mal gruffly, he turned to Wednesday, "what'll you have? Wine?"
"Dad, she only eighteen," interrupted Lucas.
"It's all right," Wednesday stopped him, "I'm not driving," she smiled.
Mal walked into the kitchen mumbling to himself, "Practically a cradle snatcher."
Lucas and Wednesday were alone. Wednesday looked perplexed, Lucas looked amused.
"What's with the yellow?" he asked her.
"I wore it so your parents would like me," she replied.
With that she began to embrace him again.
"I'd ask you to take it off and burn it, but then that would leave you with nothing to put on instead," started Lucas.
"Would that be a problem?" interjected Wednesday.
"With my parents here? Especially my dad, I think, yes," replied Lucas.
The older couple walked back into the room.
"Dinner is ready," Alice announced.
Wednesday grimaced, but allowed Lucas to take her hand and lead her to the small table. Once everyone had sat down and been served, Alice attempted to begin the conversation.
"I like your dress Wednesday, yellow is my favourite colour, in fact-"
Lucas cut her off, "Mom, not one poem, please," he turned to Wednesday, "Mom likes to write poetry."
"Yes, Lucas isn't the only poet in the family," added Alice.
Wednesday smiled at the older woman meekly, not knowing what to say. She was finding that acting normal was harder than she had imagined.
Mal spoke up, "So, Wednesday, where did you attend high school, in the city?"
"Um," started Wednesday, "Technically, but, I didn't go to school, I was homeschooled."
"Really?" asked Alice with interest.
"Yes, well given the appalling conditions, my parents had originally put my brother and myself in public schooling…but they disagreed with some of the values they taught us, so…"
Alice nodded, "Mal didn't agree with what they were teaching Lucas at school either, so we had him pulled out of that one, but we put him another school, I don't think we'd be able to-"
Lucas cut his mother off again, "She knows Mom."
"I know everything," Wednesday whispered quietly to him.
"So, what do you plan on doing in the future Wednesday, college, a career?" asked Lucas' father.
"Um, my parents are against, um working, actually," Wednesday cringed visibly at Mal's response.
"What? So I suppose you expect Lucas to do all of the work to support you," he turned to his son, "see, you can't support the two of you by writing freakin' poetry."
"My trust fund," started Lucas.
"We have family money," interrupted Wednesday, "there's more than enough to support us."
"You can't go through your whole life without doing anything, that's just lazy," retaliated Mal, "and it's a hinderance to society".
"It's not lazy!" Wednesday responded loudly, Lucas squeezed her hand gently under the table, in an attempt to calm her down.
"So!" interjected Alice, "How did you two meet anyway? Lucas hasn't told us yet."
Wednesday remained silent, still seething at Mr. Beineke.
"Um, in Central Park," replied Lucas finally, "I was wandering around, in some of the thicker areas of plants, and a pigeon dropped at my feet,"
"A what?" asked Mal.
"A pigeon, keep up," snapped Wednesday.
"So anyway," continued Lucas, "I looked up, and there she was, Wednesday, with a crossbow," he smiled at her, she responded with a small smile, "and she looked like Dianna the Huntress."
"Who?" asked Mal.
"Diana the Huntress," repeated Lucas, "she was a-"
"Isn't it illegal to shoot animals in Central Park?" interrupted Mal with a frown.
"I have a permit," replied Wednesday.
"Do you live close to the park then?" asked Alice.
"Pretty close, yes," replied Wednesday with a snort.
"Um," continued Lucas, "Wednesday lives in the park, actually."
"Is that legal? Are you homeless?" asked Mal.
"My ancestors refused to sell the land when they were constructing the park," replied Wednesday, "we live in an old mansion."
"Isn't that fascinating, Mal?" Alice asked her husband.
"Yes," grunted Mal.
"Why are you being such a tool Mal, can't we just have a nice dinner?"
Mal glared at his wife.
Wednesday felt uncomfortable, her parents very rarely disagreed, and she wasn't she how to react around married people that did. She stared at her untouched dinner.
Apparently Alice followed her line of sight, "Oh, dear, don't you like tuna bake?" she asked.
Wednesday looked up, with wide eyes, "Oh, um, I'm sorry, I'm just not that hungry, I had a big…" she paused, realising that she had had neither breakfast, nor lunch.
Reluctantly she picked up her fork and scooped up a small fraction of the food, she put it tenderly in her mouth and chewed, it felt as though she were chewing rubber. She swallowed, her throat felt dry. Her stomach growled in protest. She took a sip of her wine.
"It's very nice," she lied, "I'm sorry I'm not hungry enough to eat it all."
She honestly felt like she was about to spit it back up. Her body was definitely not used to having such foul things put in it. Lucas rubbed her arm, reassuring her.
Dinner continued in silence for a few more moments.
"Well, this is nice," said Alice, breaking the silence.
Everyone murmured awkwardly in agreement.
The silence continued.
The rest of the evening passed in the same uncomfortable manner. The Beinekes and Wednesday soon found themselves seated around Lucas' coffee table, waiting for Lurch to come and pick the girl up. Alice was nearly asleep, she had wanted to go back to the hotel earlier, but Mal refused to leave Wednesday and Lucas alone in the apartment. It was half ten by the time someone knocked on the front door.
Lucas jumped up to answer it, Wednesday followed him.
A look of shock crossed Wednesday's face when she saw that it was not only Lurch who had come to pick her up, but also her parents.
They let themselves into the lounge room.
"Mr. and Mrs. Beineke," Gomez smiled, "Gomez Addams here, Morticia there," he pointed.
"Mal," replied Mal, "and my wife Alice."
"And you must be Lucas," said Morticia turning to look at the young couple, "he's quite a catch," she added in a stage whisper, to Wednesday.
"Mother, please," started Wednesday.
"Well, I'm sorry we can't stay, but it is late, we just wanted to stop by, and meet the famous Lucas," said Gomez to the Beinekes.
"Father," Wednesday protested.
"Don't pretend Wednesday, you've been talking non-stop about this Lucas, Lucas, Lucas," continued Morticia, "How long are you in town for?" she asked the Beinekes.
"Until next Tuesday," replied Alice.
"Excellent, then we must insist that you come along for dinner, maybe Monday?" said Morticia.
"Of course, we'd love to," replied Alice.
"Mother," argued Wednesday.
"Ooh!" the older woman exclaimed, "and then we can play the game."
Wednesday groaned, "No, not the game Mother."
Lucas leaned into her, so he could whisper into her ear, "Your parents seem nice."
"I thought I could avoid you having to meet them until the wedding," she whispered, even quieter.
"Come along, Paloma," said Gomez, "It's getting late, say goodnight, we'll wait in the car with Lurch."
With that the Addams parents left.
"Well, it's been lovely meeting you Wednesday," started Alice.
"Yeah, you too," replied Wednesday distracted.
"See you on Monday, I guess," said Mal.
"I'll walk you to your car," said Lucas.
The young couple exited the apartment, and walked down to the car park, where they kissed goodbye.
Wednesday slid into the backseat beside her parents, who were occupied with each other.
"So, Wednesday," started Morticia, freeing her lips from her husband's, "how did it go."
Wednesday groaned.
"Paloma?" asked Gomez, concerned.
"It was so awkward," she moaned, "they're so normal. I thought they'd be more like Lucas, but they're not."
Gomez patted her knee comfortingly, "Paloma, they can't be as bad as that?"
"And you should have seen what they tried to make me eat!" as if on cue her stomach grumbled.
"Have you eaten today Paloma?" asked Gomez, concerned.
Wednesday shook her head, "I was too nervous."
"I thought so," said Morticia, removing a yak sandwich from beneath her seat.
Wednesday gratefully grabbed the sandwich from her mother and began to devour it, "You have to promise me something."
"Anything, Paloma," said Gomez.
"Not so fast," Morticia told her husband, "promise what?"
"When they come over, can you please, please, give me just one normal night."
"Just as you say," replied Morticia, as she leaned back into the seat with a coy smile on her face.