The Festur's Quest video game has very little plot or dialog to it. Most of it is done wordlessly, and bears no resemblance to the television show. I enjoy the challenge of writing a story for a video game that has none, so I was either going to write a fanfic about Tiger Heli, or this game. After watching an entire DVD collection of the Addamses, I decided to put Tiger Heli on the backburner (or is that the Afterburner?).

It looked like an abandoned property. An old run-down Victorian mansion framed with rusty wrought iron fencing and a jungle of weeds. But there were people on the roof, ghoulish looking individuals in strange clothing.

It was night, the stars and a brilliant moon providing the only illumination to the darkened aboveground patio, but these pale strangers acted like they were on vacation in Cancun.

Near the edge, a mustached man with slicked down hair and a striped full body swimsuit peered through an enormous telescope while puffing away on a cigar. Behind him, a vampire-like impossibly slender woman in a black dress sat enthroned on a wicker chair, holding a mirror to her face like she were tanning herself.

Next to her stood an immense stern looking man with matted hair who bore a striking resemblance to Frankenstein's monster. At the other end of the roof, a squatty bald man in a monk's robe lay sprawled in a lawn chair with a folding mirror framing his face, presumably to refract the moon's rays for a perfect tan.

Near his elbow, an old crone of a woman in rags boiled something foul smelling in a cauldron, ocassionally dropping bugs and dandruff into the mix as she stirred it.

"How's your tan coming, Festur?" the witchy woman nearly cackled.

The fat man frowned. "It could be better! Do you have anything better than lanolin?"

"I've got just the thing." She held up a ladle full of dark, smoking liquid. "Here. Try this. It'll give your skin that perfect greenish cast!"

Grinning, the man grabbed the ladle, pouring it into his mouth. "Delicious!"

The white haired woman scowled at him in dismay. "Festur! That's supposed to go on your face!"

Festur shrugged. "It'll get there eventually!"

The man with the mustache puffed like a chimney, moving the telescope sideways.

"Gomez dear," the woman in black called from her wicker throne. "Shouldn't you be aiming the telescope higher?"

"What, and miss all the fun on the ground?"

Suddenly, the sky got a whole lot brighter than it should have been.

Festur shook his head in disappointment. "Helicopters again?" he moaned. "Don't we have enough of those clogging up our beautiful swamps already?"

"You're right, dear," the dark woman sighed. "A 747 would be more striking. C'est la vie."

A look of mischief brightened the mustached man's face. "Tish! That's French!"

The woman lazily extended a bony arm, receiving a flurry of kisses from wrist to bicep.

The light got brighter, and a loud humming filled the air. It didn't sound like a helicopter or any known aircraft. The sound was otherworldly, alternating between the hum of a floor buffer on steroids and the groan of an F key on an oversized pipe organ.
The entire mansion rattled and shook with the vibrations, the shutters clapping, the glass in the windows trembling in their frames. The pot of boiling sludge tipped and splashed all over the patio.

The old woman angrily shook her ladle at the blinding light. "If only Isoceles was back from Dr. Mobogo's!" she shouted. "I'd show you a thing or two!"

Festur donned a pair of reflector sunglasses and the thing gained definition. The object was disk shaped, and appeared to be the size of a major metropolitan city. Jagged towers and turrets jutted out all around its center, and pinpoints of light, presumably windows, could be seen all along its surfaces.

The fat man bolted to his feet, his eyes wide and bulging in their skeletal sockets. His mirror fell and shattered to the ground.

The old lady muttered something about seven more wonderful years, but he ignored it. "Gomez!" he shrieked. "It's a flying saucer! A UFO!"

Gomez, still chomping his cigar, dashed back to the telescope, turning it upward. "By Jove, you're right! An actual unidentified flying object! And it's hovering over our cemetary!"

"Dear," Tish said in a dreamy tone. "Do you remember the last time we got abducted?"

Gomez drew close to her, a grin spreading under his mustache as he gazed into her eyes. "Remember! How can I forget! Naked and starving for five weeks! Our only sustenance a glowing slime that left us half blind with sores all over our tongues and made us vomit out of our eyeballs! And those anal probes! Exquisite!" He could have been describing a pleasant vacation to Maui. "I couldn't sit down for months!" And then he stared up at the light with a wistful expression on his face, like he'd gladly do it again.

The Frankenstein man shuddered, slowly shaking his head. "Ughhhhh."

As the house continued to shake, Gomez's telescope took a nose dive off the stoop, shattering to pieces in front of a headstone in the yard below.

There was a brilliant flash, then the old hag was suddenly gone.

"Grandma!" Festur shouted. "Where's Grandma!"

"I'm not sure," said Tish. "But mama moves rather quickly when she runs out of strychnine!"

His face took on the appearance of a fat baby with indigestion. "Well I don't think that's it at all! I think the aliens took her!"

"Strychnine doesn't have the right consistency for moonblock," she agreed. "It's like they say: Some things are better left for the experts. And Mama is an expert."

"And our expert is up there in that blasted flying saucer!"

Gomez took the cigar out of his mouth, giving his companion a bemused smirk. "To think we spent all that money on those colonoscopies!"

The light abruptly shut off, and they were left in the moonlight again. Festur frowned at the object, visible only by its hundreds of tiny glowing windows. "Well, she always said she wanted to get away from it all!"