Author's Note: Written in celebration of the 50th Anniversary of The Addams Family. This story does not necessarily run together with my other fanfics (which all link together if you'd like to read them as such).
I'm not 100% happy with the way this turned out, but that's just because it took a different direction than expected. Hopefully you all enjoy it anyway. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own, nor am I in any way affiliated with the Addams Family
"Darling, look at this one."
"Which one, Cara?"
Morticia placed a delicated finger upon a photo of herself and her husband, standing aboard the bow of a boat. The sky overhead was dark, and her hair was blown back into a perfect imitation of Medusa's locks.
"Morticia, this was such a wonderful idea!" Gomez shouted above the wind as he struggled with a rope on the deck, tugging at the sails of their craft.
"Thank you darling," she responded back in her usual soft tone, yet somehow he was able to hear her.
The air and water lashed against each other, causing the boat to pummel left and right.
"I'll go and start bailing water again," Morticia told her husband. "Before we start to sink again."
"Alright, Tish," Gomez was digging his feet into the railing that surrounded the edge of the boat as the sails attempted to whip him overboard. "You'd better check on the children while you're down there, they should be almost up from their nap."
Morticia descended below deck, and saw her two beautiful children still sleeping peacefully, as water lapped around their beds. Little Wednesday had an angelic look on her four year old face, and Pugsley's frown furrowed handsomely into his young brow.
With water already halfway up her shins, Morticia took the bucket that floated atop and began scooping water into it, tossing it out onto the deck. Of course, she could have just closed the hatch that was letting the rain in, but then it wouldn't be as much fun. After a few minutes of pointless scooping Morticia climbed back onto the deck to see if her husband was still at the mercy of the sails and was surprised to see he wasn't up there.
"Gomez?" she called out.
"Morticia!" his voice came from over the railing.
She glided over to him and peered over the edge of the boat. He was clinging with great difficulty to the wooden edge of their vessel, the water around his waist.
"Would you like me to pull you back on board, Gomez?"
"Just a minute more Tish," he replied with a grin. "Something's trying to pull me under."
She allowed him another minute of struggling to remain afloat, before reaching over and, with surprising strength, heaving him back onto the deck. She let out a gentle chuckle as she saw he had brought a friend with him. Gomez looked down to see what she was laughing at, and saw the small octopus that clung to his legs.
"What a delightful treasure!" Morticia proclaimed.
"Mother?" Pugsley had awoken and joined his parents, wobbling a little on his short legs as the boat swayed.
"Did you enjoy your nap, darling?" Morticia asked before indicating the small creature, still clinging to blue pinstripes. "Look what caught your father?"
"An octopus!" Pugsley beamed. "Father, may I keep him? I'll look after him, and feed him, and take him for walks."
His parents exchanged a brief look before nodding.
"Of course you can, son," Gomez pried himself from the octopus' grasp and handed the creature to the boy. "What are you going to name it?"
Pugsley chewed his lip for a moment as he though, before deciding on, "Aristotle!"
"What a wonderful octopus that was," Mortica smiled. "And always so clean."
"Pugsley was so sad when he left the gate open and Aristotle ran away."
"Hopefully a nice new family adopted him," Morticia mused.
Gomez took the album out of his wife's hands and flicked the pages randomly, stopping on one of Morticia, "You are so beautiful Querida."
Morticia smiled and then slowly ran her hands up her aging face, circling the lines in the corners of her eyes.
"You still are beautiful Tish, age has only perfected you," he kissed her gently, then opened to another page.
"Oh Gomez, wasn't that a wonderful day!" Morticia exclaimed.
In the photograph she was looking at sat Wednesday and her husband Lucas, Pugsley stood to the side holding up an infant by it's legs.
"Pugsley, stop it," Wednesday warned her brother.
Pugsley was chanting something at the baby laying in a tiny sarcophagus in the attic of the Addams mansion.
"I'm just performing a medical ritual, it'll make the baby strong," Pugsley retorted.
"Well, it's annoying," Wednesday pouted at her brother. "She doesn't like it."
"Children, children, you must stop arguing," Morticia scolded gently as she climbed up into the attic, followed by her husband.
"Wednesday, she looks just like you did," Gomez told her, reaching down and stroking the baby's cheek.
Morticia sat on the end of Wednesday's bed next to Lucas and sighed.
"What's wrong, mother?" the young woman asked.
"You're all grown up," Morticia replied.
"I'm getting old," Wednesday shrugged. "I'm a mother."
"I'm a grandmother," Morticia responded. "I'm the one that's getting old."
"No you aren't," Lucas said, sucking up just a little bit. "You can't be more than fortysomething."
"I'm not," Morticia looked a little offended. "I'm barely in my forties at all!"
"Ouch!" Gomez cried out.
He moved away from the infant and extended his hand toward his wife. His little finger was bleeding, the skin around the edge jagged. Morticia gave the injury a light kiss, then pulled his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wrapped his hand in it.
"Did the baby just bite you?" Lucas glanced warily at his newborn daughter.
"Yes, vicious little angel you have there," Gomez smiled warmly at the little girl.
"She was just born, she can't have teeth..." Lucas leaned over the sarcophagus.
"That was me," Pugsley jumped in. "Survival of the fittest and all that. Thought she'd do better with teeth."
"My little witch doctor," Morticia gave her son a peck on the cheek. "I'm so proud of both of you."
"Thank you mother," Wednesday and Pugsley replied in unison.
A cheery call came from downstairs, followed by a groan from Lurch.
"Lucas, your parents are here," Gomez headed towards the trapdoor. "Come, Tish. We'll show them in."
"Abellona was such a wonderful baby," Morticia sighed happily. "Though darling, I must admit, I'm glad Pugsley's children live in Nairobi. I adore them, but they're little devils."
Gomez opened up to the last page in the book, "Remember that Christmas when they were six..."
A loud foghorn ran through the house and Morticia looked up excitedly at her husband, "They're here."
Gomez flopped out of his handstand and sprang to his feet, taking his wife by the arm and leading her to the door. Lurch opened it.
"Lurch!" Abellona wrapped her arms around the butler in a hug before bounding over to her grandparents.
"Merry Christmas Grandfather, Merry Christmas Grandmother!"
Abellona had inherited every ounce of her grandfather's enthusiasm, and at ten years of age she was apt to exert it at any opportunity.
"Merry Christmas, darling," Morticia replied. "Where are your parents?"
"Mother was just stopping to look at the cemetery and visit with Homer," the girl replied, turning to point so fast that her braids whipped around her head and caught her in the eye.
"Would you like your present now?" Gomez asked.
Abellona's eyes lit up,"Yes!"
Gomez reached under the bare branches of their tree and pulled out a box, wrapped in a black ribbon.
"Grandmother, you're the best present wrapper," Abellona took the present from Gomez and slipped the ribbon off. "A train!"
She held up the object to admire.
"Do you like it darling?" Morticia asked.
The girl nodded, "Oh yes, I just crashed my last one. It's perfect."
The house shook as the foghorn sounded throughout, Lurch stopped Pierre from toppling off his hook before traipsing to the door.
"Pugsley and family," the butler announced.
The tall, refined man entered the room, proudly holding his chin forward to display his newly tattooed war paint, followed by a mousy looking woman with the drooping jaw and hair that hadn't seen a brush in months.
"Doctor!" Morticia greeted her son with open arms. "How are you? Both of you?"
Pugsley grinned, "Mother, do you like my new tattoo?"
"Of course darling," Morticia ran a finger down it. "It suits you."
"Where are the boys?" Gomez asked, looking around for the offspring of his offspring.
"They're just outside, playing on the stairs," Pugsley replied, poking his head out the door. "Come in boys, your grandparents wanna see you."
In strolled to six year old boys in identical suits, clean and crisp.
"Merry Christmas Blakely. Merry Christmas Braeden," Morticia leaned down towards them.
"Merry Christmas Nan," the chorused.
Morticia shuddered and turned to Pugsley, who shrugged his apologies.
"I've tried to get them to stop calling you that. At least it's not as bad as father's name."
"Merry Christmas boys!" Gomez's muffled shout came from behind the tree as he retrieved presents.
"Merry Christmas Grand Pop," came the reply.
Gomez's smile only faltered for a second before he held out parcels towards the boys.
"Thank you," they replied before neatly opening the boxes, taking extra care not to rip the paper.
In identical movements they held out large boxes of cigars.
"Of father, that's perfect," Pugsley beamed. "I remember when you gave me my first box of cigars."
"Now remember boys," Gomez said squatting to their level. "Only for special occasions. You need to develop your vices at your own paces or they aren't worth having."
"Yes Grand Pop," they replied. "May we go and play with Abellona?"
"Of course, she went out to the cemetery with her parents, I believe," Gomez replied.
"Oh, Pugsley, those poor boys," Morticia turned worriedly to her son.
"At least they have the unison thing going for them," Gomez conceded. "That might help them get through life a little."
"We've done everything we can," Pugsley sighed. "They just won't stop being so nice. We've decided the best thing to do is just let them grow out of it by themselves. I always pictured myself going squid hunting with my sons, or teaching them to breed spiders. Not going to cheer at stick ball, but at least I have them."
Morticia patted her son sympathetically on the arm, "Don't worry, you went through a similar phase when you were younger. You grew out of it and so will they."
"Poor Pugsley," Gomez shook his head sadly. "They never did grow out of it. Now they're both at law school."
"Darling," Morticia frowned at him. "You went to law school. You're a lawyer."
"Oh yes," he paused. "Well, at least they're following in their grandfather's footsteps."
"And they never did stop talking out of perfect synchronization, which is nice," Morticia smiled.
The clock on the wall chimed, announcing the arrival of dawn.
"Oh, darling, we've been sitting here all night," Morticia glanced at the moose's rear and watched the spinning tail.
Gomez took her hand, "Come, Querida, we should get to bed."
Morticia gave him a sly smile, "What a wonderful idea, bubbeleh."