"Mother, what's this do?"
"It makes my eyes more defined. It gives them a nice… Pop!"
Wednesday gave small giggle at her mother's facial expression.
"Now turn around, darling."
The little girl faced the mirror once more. Her mother sat behind her, gently combing her thick mane. She was never one for expressing sentiment, but she relished moments like these. Her eyes wistfully looked around Morticia's elegant vanity. There were only a handful of objects displayed and each were neatly put in place.
"How is little Lucifer, dear? Does he like his new aquarium?"
"Oh yes, but I sure don't. He doesn't ever want to come out and play!"
"Well, Lucifer's getting older. There are only so many times a lizard can be in a train wreck."
"But Pugsley put extra padding in the car, so the derailments won't hurt him… and if he flies out, Thing is there to catch him."
As she talked, she reached for a heart shaped perfume bottle. Gold encompassed the purple hue, which served as the heart. Sprouting from atop was a gold crown that connected to the soft black pump. "Did you get this from the trip too?" She turned to face her.
Morticia nodded.
"How romantic," she sighed. "Mother, what was your favorite part?"
While Morticia pondered the question the bedroom door flew open.
"You will never win!" Pugsley cried as he ran towards the window. He turned, placing his back to the window and sword to the room.
"Ah – ha! You're cornered now, Pugsley, old boy." Gomez bounded in like a flash. He wore a patch over one eye and a bandana around his forehead. His sword was inches from Pugsley's.
Morticia and Wednesday curiously watched the two.
"Do you surrender, or shall we deliver you to your doom?" Gomez's voice was nearly another's as he theatrically played his part. "What do you think, Commodore Fester? The plank?" Gomez glanced behind his shoulder. "Fester?" This time he turned around. The room grew still.
Slowly, footsteps and a huffing noise began to fill the silence. Uncle Fester walked in with an antique pistol by his side and stuffed toucan on his shoulder.
"Gomez, don't you think it's time to call it a night? Aren't you and Morticia tired from all that traveling? I sure am… and I didn't even go!" He said between breaths. He made his way to the ottoman at the foot of their bed and plopped down.
"But Uncle Fester, it's not even eleven o' clock yet."
"Now Pugsley," Morticia intervened, "I think Uncle Fester is right. It is rather late for the two of you."
"Aww!" Pugsley and Gomez groaned in unison.
"And you too, darling," Morticia stroked Wednesday's hair.
"Yes, mother," Wednesday obediently climbed off the chair, not forgetting to take her new decapitated doll with her.
"Goodnight dear," Morticia warmly hugged her and added a soft kiss on her forehead. "I wish you the sweetest of nightmares." She watched as Wednesday said her goodnights to the rest of the family, then turned her attention to Pugsley.
"Goodnight mother, father. Thanks for the sword."
Once everyone had left the room Morticia stood up, stretched, and started making her way to her closet.
"Tish!" Gomez ripped off his eye patch and bandana, and threw down his sword. She turned around. "When you stretch like that – it, it shiver me timbers."
"Monsieur boucanier?" She suppressed a laugh and reached for him, automatically offering her arm. He began with her hand but stopped at her shoulder.
"Oh Tish, you know what plane flights do to me."
"And now we are finally alone at last." She excitedly braced herself for the delicious force that was to come.
Suddenly, they were interrupted by a strong knock at the door.
"Yes," Gomez answered between arm kisses.
A bashful Lurch peeked through the door.
"It's alright Lurch, you may enter." Morticia smiled encouragingly.
"Gentleman here. To see you." Lurch kept his eyes downcast. "Downstairs."
"Tell him… I'm not taking… business calls… until… tomorrow." By the time Gomez finished his sentence, he was all the way to Morticia's other hand.
Lurch calmly replied, "visit is for Mrs. Addams."
Gomez lost all concentration and bolted upright. "What scoundrel wishes to see my wife at this time of night?!"
"Now, darling," Morticia said in an attempt to sooth him, though she was as equally perplexed.
"Urgent," was all Lurch replied.
"Send him away at once!" Gomez ordered.
"Lurch, offer the gentleman a refreshment and," Morticia glanced at her husband, who was already starting to pace. "Tell him Mr. Addams and I will be down shortly."
After a little coaxing from Morticia, the couple anxiously descended the stairs. A young man in his late twenties rushed to greet them.
"Mr. and Mrs. Addams," Lurch announced, "our visitor, Mr. Luffman."
"Cliff Luffman, agent for Diamond Talent Agency located in sunny Los Angeles." He duly put out his hand and offered a flashy grin.
Gomez skeptically shook it. "Gomez Addams. This is my wife, Mortica Addams." If the young man felt Gomez's grip tighten when he said "wife," he didn't act like it.
"Morticia," Cliff repeated, "what a beautiful name to accompany a beautiful woman." He carefully held the hand that was offered and kissed it.
"You flatter me," she spoke genuinely.
Gomez yawned loudly, then stretched in the most exaggerated way as he knew possible. "Mr. Luffman –"
"Oh please, call me Cliff."
"Cliff," he said tartly. "It's getting late. I think it'd be best if you got on with your purpose of being here."
"Gomez!"
"No no," Cliff chuckled, "it's far understandable Mrs. Addams. Mr. Addams I'll cut to the chase: I want your wife."
"Uh-huh, I see," Gomez looked as if he was in deep thought. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, took a long drag, and casually reached for the noose. Lurch appeared immediately.
"You rang?"
"The guillotine, Lurch. But take this man to the tar pit first."
"WAIT! P-p-please, Mr. Addams I was only joking. I want her as a hand model for commercials and, and such. Here – here's my card." His quivering hand reached into his jacket and pulled it out.
Gomez and Morticia scanned the card then looked at each other.
"What do you think," Gomez asked in a half whisper.
"Darling, he has a card..."
"You're right." His whole faced softened as he produced a warm grin. "Cliff, old sport, please sit down, sit down. Can we get you anything? A cigar, some brandy?"
"A warm cup of yak's milk, perhaps?" Morticia courteously cut in.
"No, thank you. I can't stay long. I have a date waiting for me but," he reached out and grabbed Morticia's hands, "Mrs. Addams I knew I wouldn't be able to rest until I found you. Your hands are exactly what I've been searching for."
"My hands?" She held them up to observe herself.
"Unmistakable!"
"But I don't understand; how exactly did you find me?"
"Nice, France."
"Morticia, don't we have a niece in France?"
"I don't believe so…" she thought a moment. "Ah! That's right! Thing's cousin, twice removed."
"You remember everything, cara mia." He took her by the waist and pulled her closer to his side. She gave a reciprocating smirk.
"I first saw you in Nice, France at a wedding reception a few days ago. A talent agent is never off duty. Mrs. Addams, might I say, you have the grace of a queen - perfect for a few advertisements and tv commercials!"
"Me on television? Oh, I don't think I could…"
"Only your hands. One of the studios is just a short drive from here. You'd do some photoshoots, maybe a commercial or two, that sort of thing." In a last-minute attempt of persuasion, he added, "think of it as your contribution to the world of art. You will be the masterpiece on display!"
There was a long moment's silence as Morticia contemplated the proposition. "It does sound intriguing… What do you think, Gomez?"
"You'd be the first Addams on the ole boob tube - for something other than the evening news."
"Wonderful!" Cliff grinned, "I'll bring the contracts first thing in the morning."