"What? That's it? No!" Mrs. Lovett exclaimed at the scrolling credits of Sweeney Todd. "Mr. T. would never do such a thing—well, he probably would—but not to me!"
"Calm down, Mrs. Lovett, it's just a movie," Sally reassured.
"'Just a movie'? That hexed picture-frame has told my fate! I'm destined to die by the one I love!" Mrs. Lovett fell back onto the couch in a mass of despair and rustling skirts.
"It's not a bad way to go," Pugsley offered. "Right Wednesday?"
Wednesday nodded glumly.
"Come on, sis, don't be so sad. That movie was awesome!" Mrs. Lovett glared at Pugsley. "Well—except for the part where you die," he added.
"I just want to go home, Pugsley. I miss Lurch and Granny and Cousin Itt. I want to go back to the New York I know; not this futuristic, creepy place."
"You just want to see Lucas," Pugsley teased.
"Shut up."
"Alright, enough; maybe showing you this movie was a huge mistake," Sally admitted, picking up the remote and flipping the channel. Nobody spoke another word.
Sally couldn't find anything worth watching. She flipped rapidly through the channels, but nothing appeared interesting. She set down the remote and leaned back, giving up and settling for the news.
A mustached reporter was rambling about some local shooting or robbery; never anything interesting.
Suddenly, the anchor came on screen. "We interrupt this story to bring you the update on some breaking news." They cut to a clip of a large crowd of people. Elphaba, Morticia, Sweeney Todd, and the Phantom were in the center. Almost immediately, everyone perked up. "Yesterday's Broadway attack in Times Square left the nation in a state of shock and confusion. We have an exclusive interview with New York Times reporter Margo Weatherfeld, who was attending the scene."
Everybody stared with gaping mouths at the screen.
"Turn it up!" Pugsley demanded. Thing, always the helpful one, instantly complied.
The mustached reporter returned, this time standing on the street, holding a microphone in front of Margo. "What was it like, being there front-and-center?"
"Well, it was certainly an experience. At first I was just like everyone else—completely in denial. I figured it had to have been planned; somebody was just desperate for attention. However, earlier today—and I won't say any more than this—I met with more of them."
"More? Elaborate, please!" the reporter demanded, despite her previous statement.
"I'm sorry, I can't say anything further, but you can read my next article in tomorrow's Times."
Sally hit the mute button and stared at the television in awe.
"How does this help us?" Mrs. Lovett asked. "The woman told us she saw more of us, but won't tell where! They could be long gone by the time we read her article in tomorrow's newspaper!"
Sally shook her head, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed a number.
"Mom!" Sally exclaimed, just barely after the recipient had answered the phone. "I need to talk to you about this great Broadway escape incident. I saw your interview—" she paused and hit speaker.
"Wait—Margo is your mom?" Pugsley asked.
Sally nodded quickly and put the phone on speaker. Perhaps there was hope after all.
"Sally, I don't have time for you to call me crazy. This story is going nationwide and everybody is into it!" Margo replied.
"Mom, you don't understand; I have three of them living in my apartment! They're here right now; I have the phone on speaker."
Wednesday, Pugsley, and Mrs. Lovett mumbled supportively to prove their existence.
The line was quiet for a while. "And they're here in Times Square?"
"Yes, but they haven't been attacked by publicity yet. I've got Wednesday, Pugsley, and Mrs. Lovett."
"And Thing."
Thing gave an enthusiastic salute.
Margo was silent.
"Mom?"
"I just sent four of them to the Upper East Side to look for the group that was last seen in Times Square."
"Well, get them back here!"
"I can't; I'm sorry, honey. They don't have a cell phone or any means of communication—"
"Well drive up there! You know where they're going! We'll set up a rendezvous in Times Square. There's one of those Broadway Cares festivals happening today; at least they'll fit in."
Margo chuckled nervously on the other end. "Alright; keep your phone on."
The line went dead and Sally set down her phone.
"Times Square? We have to wait for them there? That place is a mad hell of people!" Mrs. Lovett protested.
"The more people, the better chance of finding your third party," Sally explained.
Mrs. Lovett nodded understandingly.
"But how will we avoid the cameras?" Pugsley asked.
"There's some Broadway charity festival in Times Square today; there will be auctions, performances, and hopefully tons of people dressed up. If anything, they'll think you guys are a promotional thing."
"Do you have any sun block?" Wednesday asked.
Sally turned to her questioningly. "It's October; it's fifty degrees outside."
"I hate the sun."
Sally mumbled something along the lines of "when you're an Addams" and left to grant her pasty guest's request, leaving the room in an awkward, heavy silence.
Thing began absentmindedly flipping channels on the TV before finally settling on one of those wilderness survival documentaries.
A sudden thought occurred to Pugsley. "Hey guys, once we all meet up, hug, cry, and all that jazz, how are we planning on getting home?"
The deep silence turned from awkward to unsure.
