Midnight. Pugsley's eyes jolted open.

The young boy could not sleep a wink. He had finished playing Ninety-Nine Vials of Blood on the Wall with Wednesday a while ago now. She won.

Pugsley turned to his left and shook his sister. "Wednesday!" He whisper-yelled.

Sleeping like a corpse, her hands folded over her chest and her hair draped over the pillows, almost as graceful as her mother, she did not stir.

"Wednesday!" Pugsley tried again. He shook her with more force. "Wednesday, I heard The Backstreet Boys were coming to Mockrage!"

Wednesday woke up instantly, afraid and angered. She looked around, then to Pugsley. "Hand me the knife, Pugsley, now. I'm going to end my life."

Pugsley rolled his eyes. "No they aren't. Relax. I was just trying to wake you up."

Wednesday took a deep breath. "I see. In that case," She paused, and fully turned to her younger brother. "Hand me that knife, Pugsley, now. I'm going to end your life."

Pugsley shook his head. "No, Wednesday. Come on, please don't." He whined. "I just can't sleep. I'm bored and I hate this place. Aunt Ophelia's house is awful-looking and so is she. I hate it here, and I'm worried about mother." He sighed. "And father." He admitted, then. "And you." He sat crisscross.

"Why me?" Wednesday asked.

Pugsley didn't answer, but instead said something else. "Aunt Ophelia seems... weird. And not like a good kind of Jack the Ripper weird. Like a New Kids on the Block weird."

Wednesday sighed. "That's because she is."

"Yea, but I don't think we're safe here." Pugsley tried to explain again.

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

Wednesday got up. "Want to go explore the house?"

"Why?" Pugsley asked. "It's all cruddy and boring anyway."

"No. The only truly cruddy and boring things are school and basic girls who won't shut up about their new noses and their boyfriends." Wednesday told him.

Pugsley got out of bed. "Okay, so, when did you get all philosophical on me and turn into mother?"

Wednesday's eyes enlarged as she thought about what all that meant. "Oh, no. I've turned into mother?"

"I mean some people might say I've turned into father." Pugsley straightened his back, proudly.

Wednesday scoffed. "Yes, some blind people."

Pugsley deflated and snapped his teeth. "Are we exploring or not?"

Wednesday opened the door. "Come on. And be quiet, will you?" She closed the door, then... right into Pugsley's nose.

She began to walk down the hallway, not noticing. "Alright, so I was thinking we go down to the-" Halfway down the hallway, she finally noticed her brother was missing. She looked around. "Pugsley?" Annoyed, she backtracked. "Pugsley?" She got as far as their guestroom and she opened the door.

There was Pugsley, standing there, holding his probably bleeding nose in pain. He gave her a what the hell! gesture.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and pulled him out of the room. "God, you're annoying. Come on."

They walked through the house, not finding anything that would qualify as unusual, which they were a bit disturbed and disheartened by. The house was not nearly as large as what they were accustomed to. The entire place was not even the full size of the Addams' first floor. They grimaced in disgust at the off-putting dog pictures on the wall, and decided to go find the dog and play a game with her.

"I checked the bedroom. She wasn't there." Pugsley said.

"Well, she has to be somewhere." Wednesday continued to walk. She stopped at a mirror and paused, studying her reflection briefly. Everybody in her distant family always said she should wear her hair down more often, as she looked beautiful and too much like her mother without her braids. However, Wednesday never listened to them. She liked her braids and didn't care for anybody else's opinion.

Pugsley thought for a moment. "Kitchen?"

Wednesday nodded and the pair walked into the kitchen. Sure enough, the dog was there. She was eating a steak, careful not to get it on her miniature cashmere nightgown.

Wednesday and Pugsley breathed slowly and softly.

"Alright, when I give the signal, grab her." Wednesday instructed.

"What game are we playing this time?" Pugsley inquired.

"It's called, Cats Have Nine Lives, What About Dogs?" Wednesday answered. "I think it's quite self-explanatory."

Pugsley shook his head. "I don't know what that means."

Wednesday rolled her eyes. A part of her did feel sorry for Pugsley. He was terrible at English for a boy of eight. He could be smart, Wednesday thought. Sometimes. "It means shut up and do what I tell you, Pugsley."

A question popped into young Pugsley's mind as they walked toward the unsuspecting animal. "Wait, what's the signal-"

"Go!" Wednesday whisper-yelled.

"Was that the signal?" Pugsley asked.

Wednesday face-palmed. "Yes, go!"

Pugsley did as instructed and ran after the dog. He picked it up but it jumped out of his arms and ran.

"Don't let her get away!" Wednesday called after her brother.

"I won't! Who else are we gonna play with?" Pugsley chased after the dog, Wednesday behind him.

When she was out of sight, the children realized that they were back at square one and tip-toed after the disappearing dog.

This had been going on for quite some time, and Pugsley decided to break the silence.

Pugsley sighed. "Hey, Wednesday?"

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Can I tell you something?" Pugsley asked.

"Fine." Wednesday responded, not at all interested.

Pugsley nodded. "I just feel like sometimes it's really hard, ya know? Like I worry so much about mother and father and even you, even though-"

"Pugsley, shut up." Wednesday commanded.

"Well, that was harsh. I just-"

"Shh!" Wednesday began to walk toward a loose floorboard, with a large, oddly-shaped foot stool over it. Wednesday moved the stool out of the way. "Press your foot against the floor." She whispered.

Pugsley did so, carefully. Sure enough, it was shaky.

With Wednesday's help, he moved it slightly.

And that was when they saw it. As sight that would alter the course of their lives, from the beginning of their lives. And they did not even know it.

The children saw into the basement. Ophelia was in a pastel blue, lacey-lingerie type nightgown. She wore a white, big, see-through robe with white boa-type fluff lining the sleeves and bottom of it. Her slippers matched the gown.

She was standing over a... something. They could not see everything fully, but it appeared that there was a spell book on a stand, and a small, black pot in front of her. She was angrily stumbling through some kind of spell. Her drive was getting her much further than her pronunciation ever would, and as she read, the liquid in the pot bubbled and changed colour.

Pugsley looked at Wednesday, confused. "What is she doing?"

"Can't you tell? What Máma does. She's reciting a spell. Mother learned it in college but she doesn't practice as often." Wednesday explained.

"Hey, maybe she is part of the family." Pugsley remarked.

Wednesday shook her head, a terrible gut feeling forming in her stomach. "No." Her head refused to stop shaking. "She's doing it wrong."

"But I thought you haven't learned yet?"

Wednesday waved a dismissive hand. "I haven't been taught yet. I learned a little bit, enough to know that one does not pronounce the Latin language like that. And that confidence is key so stumbling screws it up."

Pugsley grew fearful. "What is she saying?"

Wednesday put her ear up to the space and listened, intently. "Reality... Alter... Time... Back... Go..." Everything was getting worse, but with the last word, she made the connection. "Past."

Pugsley looked to his older sister. "What about the past?"

"There's no time to explain. We have to wake mother and father." Wednesday hastily put the stool and board back and they stood. "Now."

Pugsley, sensing the urgency in his elder sibling's voice, ran upstairs with her.

They raced to the guest bedroom, but stopped at the door. The children were smart, and knew what their parents got up to. Unfortunately, the youngsters had heard too much and once had seen too much. So, they decided it best to always knock or listen before entering a room they knew their parents were in.

Pugsley watched as Wednesday pressed her ear to the door. "Do you hear anything?" He asked.

"No."

"So... do you think they're asleep?"

Wednesday sighed. "Well, there's only one way to find out."

Pugsley nodded.

"One." Wednesday began.

Pugsley followed her lead. "Two."

"Three!" They said, in unison.

They opened the door, and thankfully, their parents were indeed asleep.

Gomez protectively held Morticia in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. She looked as though she were dark angel like that, the picture of elegance and happiness in her husband's arms.

Pugsley gently tried to shake them awake. "Mother? Father?" He whispered.

"What the hell is that?" Wednesday asked, upset. "They're thirty-seven years old, horny and tired! They are not sleeping infants."

"Shh!" Pugsley put a finger to his lips. "We aren't trying to wake them up."

"Yes, we are!" Wednesday whisper-shouted.

"Oh, yea." Pugsley resumed trying to wake them up, gently.

Morticia then curled up against Gomez even more and he held her tighter. She smiled and whispered his name and the nicknames she called him on a daily as she slept.

Pugsley smiled. "Aww. I love them."

Nearly physically ill, Wednesday replied, "Be quiet, Pugsley."

"Sorry, Wednesday."

Trying to think of something, fast, Wednesday looked at the pillow on the floor, as her parents were sharing one of the couple they were using. "Pugsley, hand me that pillow."

Pugsley eyed the pillow. "Why?"

"Pugsley, hand me the pillow or I will suffocate you while your sleeping, and this time, you will not wake up."

Pugsley gulped and handed Wednesday the pillow.

"Thank you." Instantly, Wednesday began to violently whack Gomez with the pillow until he was jolted awake.

Awakened and startled, Gomez did not register his offspring were even there. He sat up and turned to his side, nervous. "Tish?"

When he did find she was alright, he looked down at her beautiful face and sighed in relief, caressing her cheek.

Upon noticing Wednesday and Pugsley, he again grew concerned. "Children, what-"

"Wake up mother." Wednesday commanded.

Gomez wore a confused expression. "Not until-"

"Please, father." Pugsley begged. "It's an emergency."

Gomez nodded. He turned to face his lovely queen of bleakness, and stroked her cheek. "Cara mia..." He always woke her like this and he did not want to startle her.

Wednesday checked an invisible watch, growing impatient.

"My darling, wake up." Gomez said, gently.

Wednesday tapped her foot. "Father!"

Gomez shushed her and turned back to Morticia. He kissed her neck.

Wednesday had just about had enough until her mother began to stir.

Satisfied, Gomez watched adoringly as his darling querida's eyes fluttered open.

Morticia turned to him and smiled. "I'm sorry, mon cher." She sat up and snuggled against him, giving a graceful, silent yawn. "I was having a wonderful dream." She eyed him, seductively. "Want to take a swing at what is was?"

Gomez bit his lip and looked into her eyes. "I think I have a guess..." He kissed her.

Wednesday stomped her foot and Morticia turned to see her children.

"Children, what are you doing?" She asked.

"Thank God!" Wednesday rolled her eyes, then grew serious. "Mother, it's Aunt Ophelia."

Pugsley picked up where Wednesday left off. "She's reciting some spell."

Morticia and Gomez shared a worried expression, and quickly got out of bed.

"Where?" Morticia asked her children and slipped on her black slippers.

Gomez put on his crimson robe over his bare chest and black pajama bottoms.

The children then began to lead their parents out of the bedroom.

"In the basement." Wednesday replied. "She didn't see us. But we saw her."

"What is she doing?" Pugsley inquired as the foursome reached the top of the stairs.

"Shh!" Wednesday scolded. "What if she heard us?"

"She's in the basement." Pugsley defended.

"Yes, she is. And your corpse will be too if you don't shut up."

"Wednesday." Morticia chastised.

"I'm sorry mother." Wednesday turned to Pugsley. "Now."

Morticia's eyes shifted. "Better." She decided.

Within two minutes, the family was tip-toeing down the basement stairs.

Morticia was the first to witness the sight. Her sister was there, in front of a spell book and a bubbling cauldron. As she deciphered the words in her head, she only grew more fearful. But when she heard the words, Change the past., she knew they were in danger.

Morticia stood in front of her family, Gomez beside her and his arms tight around her.

"Ophelia, stop!" Morticia yelled.

Ophelia froze, and turned to see her younger sister, heading the family, strong-willed and dignified. It. Was. Disgusting.

"Morticia." Ophelia's voice was calm, and the cauldron bubbled behind her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Ophelia, I know what you're doing." Morticia was terrified, but remained poised on the outside. "Don't."

"You know what I'm doing?" Ophelia stepped closer to the family. "I can't say I'm surprised. It was you who graduated with an advanced degree in witchcraft, was it not?"

"Children, leave. Now." Morticia instructed, not looking back at them.

"No." Pugsley shook his head. "We're not leaving you-"

"Now." She ordered. This time, her tone was harsh.

The children knew they had no choice and quickly flew up the stairs. However, when they tried to open the door... it was locked.

"We can't!"

"Listen to your mother, children! She knows more about this than we do." Gomez held Morticia as tight as he could, determined to let nothing happen to his oxygen.

"We'd love to father, but the door is locked!" Wednesday explained, fiddling with the lock.

Gomez and Morticia turned to see that it was indeed locked.

"Stay there, children!" Gomez commanded. "It is very important that you don't move!"

"No matter what happens, stay there! I can't let you two get hurt!" Morticia called to them.

"Yes, mother!" Pugsley squished up against Wednesday, whom was holding both him and herself back from helping their parents.

Gomez and Morticia turned back to the enemy.

"Why?" Morticia asked.

"Why?" Ophelia sighed, light and airy. "Well, simply put... I hate you." She looked her sister right in her black eyes. "I hate you, with every fiber of my being. What you did to me, Morticia... that is unforgivable. That is something I cannot sleep at night without thinking about. You stole, everything I ever wanted."

"Ophelia, you didn't want love, or passion and you certainly did not want children. You wanted money. And how do I know? You told me so on numerous occasions. That's how I know." Morticia defended herself.

"Yes, I did want money. And what did you take from me?" Ophelia said and paced around a bit.

Morticia refused to play games. "I didn't take anything from you. Gomez -which is all I wanted when I met him- was never. Yours."

"Money." Ophelia corrected her. "You. Took. Money. All that money, Morticia. I could have owned a vault filled with riches the Queen of England could only dream of."

"I would have given you any amount you needed to get on your feet. Hell, I would have invited you and mother to come live with us, if not for what you did."

"Cut the crap. I know you wanted passion and adoration, it's all I heard about after mother arranged the marriage." Ophelia waved her hand, dismissively. "Realistically, Morticia, you came into money. You came into a great deal of money. Money, I would have killed for."

Morticia scoffed. "Money you tried to kill for."

Ophelia nodded. "Yes, I admit that I did. But he," Ophelia eyed Gomez, rage burning in her blue eyes. "Ruined that plan." She sighed, and looked back at her sister. "'Tis money that doth make the world go 'round."

Morticia raised an eyebrow. "I highly doubt Shakespeare ever said that."

"Oh, no." Ophelia shook her head. "It's an original quote, from Ophelia Anastasia Frump." She turned back to the potion. "Or should I say Addams?"

"You shouldn't." Morticia warned her.

"Well, Morticia, since you know what's going on... care to share?" Ophelia asked.

"You're trying to alter reality. But you're having an awful lot of trouble. That potion is supposed to be grey, dear, not black. And your pronunciation is dreadful."

"I hate you." Ophelia growled. "And anyway, it will work. I wrote it out phonetically." She said, as if she were the smartest person to walk the earth since Einstein.

Morticia rolled her eyes. Then paused, fully understanding everything. "You wanted the children to find you. Didn't you?"

Ophelia's eyes fixated on Wednesday and Pugsley. "Well, of course."

"You needed Gomez and I here." Morticia clarified, knowing the answer.

"Yes, very good, Morticia. After all, all three of us are a part of this... spell-potion-thing. Whatever you weirdos call it. Besides, I knew if you were anything like you were when you two met, he wouldn't let you come here alone." Ophelia laughed. "It's too pink for you."

"No, you're wrong." Morticia said, angry. "It's too you for me." She spat.

"Uh-huh. Ah, well, no harm done. When I'm through, you won't remember a damn thing. So, I'll let you have this one, Tish." Ophelia smirked.

Gomez blood boiled to its explosion point. "If you do anything to harm her, so help me God, you will die mercilessly at my hand, you wench!" He yelled.

Ophelia feigned offense. "Ouch. That really hurt, darling." She smiled and let her nail trace over the words in the spell book. "After all, that's what I'll be calling you once we get this potion working."

She took a vile from off of the stand and was about to dip it into the potion.

Morticia was now angry, angrier than she had ever been. "You stay the hell away from my family!" She yelled. Then, like a woman possessed, she ran at her sister and jumped on her. Her arms were tight around her neck, choking her. It was giving her a serious sense of deshavu, but this time the blood was going to be on Morticia's hands. She didn't care, she would not let anyone harm Gomez or her children and get away with it.

Ophelia couldn't breath and stumbled back, dropping the vile.

The vile landed with a thud against the cold basement floor and a piece of it broke. A third of it spilled, and Ophelia was furious.

"Bitch!" She tried to yell, but it came out as a hoarse peep.

"Damn right!" Morticia released her and both the sisters dove after the vile.

Gomez, meanwhile, grabbed hold of the medium-sized pot, turned makeshift-cauldron and tipped it over, and then every last drop that spilled out was about the equivalent of a gallon of milk. Ophelia really did not know how to make enchantments.

There was a battle, Morticia against Ophelia, struggling to get a hold of the vile.

Ophelia grabbed hold of it, but Morticia pushed her back. On top of her, she punched her and grabbed the vile.

She stood and began to run towards her husband.

However, Ophelia attacked her from behind, and wrestled her to the ground. She grabbed the vile and pinned Morticia's arms behind her back. "This is because of you! You took everything from me!" Ophelia drank half of what was in the vile. "See how it feels."

Afraid, the children disobeyed and ran down the stairs to help.

Gomez darted towards the pair and grabbed Ophelia, prying her off of his darling one.

He released her once pried off, and ran to Morticia, praying she was alright. He helped her to her feet, and stood in front of her, her arms now, around him.

Ophelia tucked the vile in her bra and opened a compartment in the stand. "Oh, no, Gomez." She shook her head, her nightgown, torn and her hair, disheveled. "Not this time." With those words, she aimed a gun at Morticia. "Remember that ultimatum I gave you that morning in my room?"

Morticia looked at her husband, confused. "Gomez, what is she talking about?"

Afraid, Gomez froze. Everyone froze.

"Tish, do you remember the talk we decided I should have with Ophelia the morning after I proposed?" Gomez asked.

Morticia nodded. "Yes."

Ophelia picked the story back up. "I told him he had two choices. He could come to his senses and marry me, or I could destroy everything he loves. Well, he told me I couldn't do that. Because everything he loved..." She gave a fake smile at Morticia. "Was you."

Nobody moved or spoke, so Ophelia continued. "Well, perhaps I didn't deliver on my end for quite some time... but today, I am." She fired the gun at the wall.

Morticia did not even jump, but inside her heart was racing.

"Just to show you it's got bullets." Ophelia blew the smoke off of her gun, which was bedazzled at the bottom with pink gems, and aimed it back at Morticia.

Morticia looked at the gun, a bit bemused. "You bedazzled your gun?"

"Well, twenty years gives you quite a bit of free time." Ophelia explained. "Now, shut up." Then, using, one hand, Ophelia held up the vile, half of its contents remaining. She turned to Gomez. "Gomez, I have a new ultimatum for you. Tell me what you think. Drink this, and she lives. Don't drink it..." She cocked the gun. "And she dies."

Gomez looked at his darling wife, whom was now visibly upset.

She was shaking her head, no, trying to stop him.

"Hand me the vile." Gomez nodded.

Ophelia, still aiming her gun, slowly walked over to Gomez. She handed him the vile.

"Gomez, don't do it." Morticia was begging. "Darling, please."

Tears welled up in his eyes. "Cara mia, I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone in this world."

"Gomez..." Silent tears were falling down Morticia's face now. "Please."

Gomez shook his head, now also in tears. "Tish, my heart beats for you. Without you, I cannot live."

"Nor I without you, darling. Please, mon cher, don't do it. I can't lose you. You're my air." Morticia had never been in such a state of panic.

Gomez turned her to face him, and looked her in her black eyes. "You. Will. Never. Ever. Lose me. I can promise you, come heaven or highwater, I will always be there with you and for you."

Morticia shook her head. "Not if you don't remember me." She cried. "That's what this thing does, Gomez. You can't love me if you don't remember everything we have."

Gomez kissed her hands. "I will always love you." He told her. "It will come to me." He said, with full confidence. "And so will you."

Ophelia laughed. "I highly doubt that. That spell... it'll take care of her."

Morticia put a hand to her mouth, hurting so bad her heart probably exploded. "Promise me, you won't ever leave me." Morticia, shaking, commanded.

Gomez kissed her hand, atop her wedding ring. "I promise, cara mia."

"Je t'aime." Morticia wanted to scream, but her voice was barely a whisper. The minute she said that, the potion had been swallowed... and Gomez fell down, passed out.

She gasped, terrified and fell to the floor with him, his head in her lap.

Ophelia did not look too happy anymore and turned back to her spell book. "Oh, no." She flipped the page. "Oh, shit! Fuck, damn it all to hell!" She quickly began to speak in Latin, but was pronouncing the words all wrong. She had realized an entire paragraph of the spell... had not been recited. "Jesus Christ!" She quickly tried to gather the liquid on the floor into the broken vile, but nothing came of it. Calmly, she gathered herself and began to recite the spell from the beginning, a thick, light purple-grey fog now spreading throughout the basement.

Pugsley and Wednesday ran to their mother and she used her free hand to hold them.

"Is father alright?" Pugsley asked.

Morticia shook her head. "No, darling, he isn't. And neither are we." She said, honestly.

"Mother, is this Sensus Inversus?" Wednesday asked.

Morticia looked at her daughter, confused. "How do you know about the Distorted Perception enchantment? That's college level witchcraft."

Wednesday watched as the fog enveloped the room. "I snuck into the library and took some of yours and Máma's books."

Morticia sighed. "Good girl, Wednesday." She looked around the basement, in tears and then back down at her husband, who had just given up everything for her, without a second thought.

"Mother, I'm scared." Pugsley admitted.

"It's going to be alright, my little vermin. I promise." Morticia was both convincing herself and her children. She turned to them. "Remember the story I told you the night before we boarded the plane?"

The children nodded.

"Did you like it?"

"Yea, I thought it was nice to hear about an accurate depiction of a witch for once."

Morticia nodded, getting her breathing under control and holding her little devils close. "I made it up."

"You did?" Wednesday asked.

Morticia nodded. "Yes. Now, darlings... how's about you listen to that story, hmm?" The fog silently swirled around the room, making nearly everything purple-gray.

They nodded, afraid and got as close to their mother as possible.

Morticia cleared her throat, and sighed, looking down at her husband, a few tears still making their way down her porcelain cheeks. "Once there was a beautiful, old witch. She had long fingernails and sewed her clothing out of the finest fishnet and rags one could find. She was tall, and thin with sapphire eyes and curly brown hair. She wore rings galore each day. She was also, the kingdom's most trusted advisor. Her name was Eudora.

"She lived with her daughter, whom bared a striking resemblance to her. She was tall, and lithe. Her nails were always painted black, and her skin was a bit paler than her mother's."

The fog made noise now as it circled around the room, and grew darker. The noise was of screaming wind.

Morticia yelled the words, as gently as she could. "She wore elegant, dark, gothic dresses and she too, had an aphanite for rings. All she ever wanted in life was to learn as much magick as her mother. Oh, if only it were that easy. The young witch was easily sidetracked. She loved to paint and sing, and even write. Her name was Alice.

"However, Alice's mother was stubborn and strict. She wanted not for Alice to spend her time socializing or painting. She usually let it go, but one day she caught Alice with a boy. As a result, she stripped Alice of all of her freedoms, and locked her up in the attic."

It grew cold, and Wednesday's teeth were chattering. "Sounds reasonable." She said, upset and for the first time, holding Pugsley's hand.

"Well, one would think so. But the problem was that Alice was being forced into a life she didn't want. She was not given food, and hardly given anything to drink. She vowed to show her mother that stripping a girl of all freedoms, and watching her every move, and taking away everything she loves, would not make her love her or want to be like her. She vowed to tell the king of the abuse she was suffering, because once the king found out..." She shouted so loud, it startled her sister, whom was ready to pass out from the potion. "She would be done for!"

That was it, then. Morticia kissed her sleeping husband, and soon, fell asleep herself. As she did, the fog swirled around the room and enveloped it... and soon did away with it.

Visions, almost lucid dreams played out in the eyes of every person in the family. They saw it all. Morticia, driving away from the Addams mansion at eighteen, tears in her eyes. Kitty was nowhere to be found, and wedding bells chimed in the background. A nineteen-year-old Ophelia was happily marrying a not-so-happy-looking Gomez, and the cemetery was hideous. It was decorated in white, and floral. It was atrocious. Life played out like a sadistic fairytale mixed with a disgusting horrour film. Ophelia, re-decorating the house to her tastes, Morticia moving away from everyone and finishing college with her private tutours in a small apartment. Ophelia, in the hospital bed, and screaming, whilst Gomez was holding her hand, and she birthed... a baby girl. Two years later, she did the same, with a little boy. And then, a funeral of some sort... an elderly woman in the coffin. Everyone in the Frump and Addams family attended, all except for Morticia. She was gone. It got worse and worse, as the children grew and were raised in an environment filled with daisies and mainstream fashion, and unreal happiness. The young boy was enrolled in the Little League, while the beautiful, petite young girl was enrolled in dance. Everything spun around in their brains and before their eyes as though they were in the middle of a raging cyclone. The P.T.A. meetings, the baseball games, the pink tutu-infested dance recitals and Gomez... looking so different, and so... dead. And for the love of God, where was Morticia? Soon, the eye of the storm came, and everyone's visions drifted apart to the Sensus Inversus.

And then Morticia's eyes fluttered open.