When Morticia woke up to a sun filled room she knew the day would be a dreary one. She never understood how some people found the penetrating sun so welcoming when the moon had the most inviting allure to it. Nonetheless, daytime had announced itself. Planting a tender kiss on her sleeping husband's cheek, she rolled out of bed and began her morning routine. Once her face was powdered, eye liner winged, lips reddened, hair combed, and slinky black dress was fitted to hug every curve, she took one last look at her dear Gomez and left the room.
Eagerly, she floated downstairs to the conservatory where Lurch had the breakfast table set for her and Gomez. As Lurch was making last minute inspections, she shuffled over to her carnivorous plant, Cleopatra.
"Good morning Cleopatra," she exclaimed, picking up the bowl of meatballs, "open for mother." She held up a meatball with her fork, ready for the African Strangler to gobble it down.
"Cleopatra!" she gasped. The large, straggly plant was drooped over the edge of its pot, looking more like a creation of Salvador Dali's melting clocks than a vivacious African Strangler. The pointed leaves which formed around her mouth were opening and closing. She looked like a fish struggling for breath.
Morticia anxiously put down the bowl to hold her beloved pet. The limp plant quietly moaned. Something was terribly wrong and Morticia knew it. "Oh darling, what has happened?" she asked.
Not expecting an answer, she was half startled when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. "Querida," Gomez purred into her neck, "you look lovely this morning." He started planting kisses on her neck but she hardly noticed.
"Gomez, I'm worried. Cleopatra doesn't seem like herself at all today."
He lifted his lips from her skin, just enough to give a muffled response. "It's early. After breakfast she'll be her carnivorous self."
"But darling, she can't hold her head up, nor can she stand the sight of her meatballs, look!"
Gomez peered over Morticia's shoulder to see part of Cleopatra cradled in her arms. He rubbed his chin. "Strange – a plant that doesn't want meatballs for breakfast?" Then in an ah-ha moment, he exclaimed, "She's tired that's all… and after last night, so am I." He rang the noose to call Lurch for their breakfast.
As Gomez read yesterday's paper, telling Morticia tidbits here and there, her mind couldn't help but wonder about Cleopatra. She pondered the subject until an idea filled her head. When Thing was pouring the last drop of henbane in her cup she excitingly looked at Gomez. "Mama! Of course! She'll know!"
"Why everyone's wanting to drain the swamps?"
"Drain our precious swamps?!" She paused to shake the shocked look away. "No darling, I'm talking about Cleopatra."
"Excellent idea!" He folded his paper and picked up his engineer's hat. "Well, I'm off!"
Feeling slightly jilted from his lack of sympathy, she reached for his arm. "Gomez, don't you want to hear what she has to say?"
"Cara Mia, forgive me, but I don't think there's anything ghastly wrong with Cleopatra. She's an Addams! She'll bounce back. Remember Aunt Flubber?"