Mortcia awoke inside of a tunnel, her wrists chained to a roller coaster cart. She looked to her left and Kalvin was on the other side of the room. The inside of the tunnel was red-pink. And they looked at eachother, fearful.
"Kalvin!" Morticia called, praying he could hear her.
"Morticia!" He called. "Are you okay?"
"I-" she was cut off by a low, loud, booming voice. "Please keep your chained hands inside of the ride at all times. Do not speak while the ride is in progress. Or your voice may be removed. Enjoy the ride." And the ride zoomed off.
The first obstacle was going in a loop-di-loop in the shape of an all black eye. They then went up a green, black and purple bloody jack-in-the-box and they then proceeded to go through horrific, gory versions of children's toys and organs. They then went through a black whole and lost sight of eachother. Morticia figured the ride was alright until the horror picture she saw. Her cart went through smiling, singing dolls, Disney and "It's a Small World" played. She then went through a roller coaster version of Splash Mountain. Kalvin went through guts, ghosts, gore, tombstones, graveyards and panic music played. Morticia went through a life sized barbie house and Kalvin went through a haunted house. They each went through a glass mirror that shattered behind them. Their carts drove off the track and landed on a stone floor in a pitch black room. Separated by sound-proof glass, they walked on until they fell through a black hole and into a black box room. They found eachother and ran to eachother, pancicked.
"Kalvin!" Morticia breifly hugged him. "Are you alright?"
"No. Those images were awful." Kalvin said.
"Yes, all of those dolls. And that awful music." Morticia shuddered.
"What?" Kalvin asked. "Those were not toys."
"Agreed." Morticia told him.
"Where are we?" Kalvin asked her.
"A black box." Morticia answered.
"Why? Look, stay on edge. Anything could happen." Kalvin warned. They walked around the box, looking for any way out. Then, there was a light shaking in the room. It turned into a massive earthquake type of shaking until finally the ceiling shattered and two gruesome, bloody claws of an unknown species of animal grabbed them both. That was the last they saw of eachother. And the last they saw all together.
Morticia found her hands once again chained and in a room with red-brown, glass palace walls and a matching glass tile floor. A river of blood ran through the room and a ring of fire closed it of from any other rooms. A man about five foot seven, wearing a black cloak with no face stood next to her, holding a black hatchet. A man six feet tall exactally with brown hair wearing a black and red tuxedo sat in a throne made of human bones was in front of her. "Hello, Morticia." He said.
"How do you know my name?" She asked.
"I know everybody's name." The man said. He then paused. "You really don't know where you are, do you?" He laughed. "Your in Hell. And I'm the devil." He paused to watch her stunned and puzzled reaction. "No, before you ask... you're not dead."
Morticia said nothing.
"I go by many names. Devil, Lucifer, Satan, etc." Satan told her.
"If I'm not dead, why did you bring me here?" Morticia asked, sternly.
"Beacuse... I'm not happy with you, Tish." Satan said.
"Don't call me that!" Morticia snapped. Her emotions, for the first time were running wild. She had gone from sad, to confused to angry in merely a couple of hours.
"Oh, it appears I've really hit something here." Satan smiled, wickedly. "Let me guess, it's what your dear Gomez calls you. Am I right?"
"Stop it."
"Among... other things. How long have you been married, again? Nineteen years. Married at eighteen, stole your sister's man and met him at your first funeral. I must say, the way you two are after such a long marraige is quite stunning. I'm suprised you haven't had more children. Are you sure Pubert's your last one?" Satan teased.
"Knock. It. Off." Morticia was never usually this feisty.
"Prickly, I see. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Why don't we move on to another topic then, dear? Shall we? Ah, yes. Your lovely children. Puglsey is rather upset with you, is he not?" Satan asked, mockingly.
"None of your business."
"You drove away his girl, correct? Now, I understand you were planning to fix everything before your trip down here. And you still are. Well, I have news for you, Tish. Nobody leaves Hell."
"How are you sure that's what I planned to do?" Morticia asked.
Satan ignored her question. "And what about Wednesday? Eleven now. Eleven, such a tender age. Is she still cutting the heads off of those dolls? She is the weird one. And still just as morbid and auto tone, I'm guessing?"
"I'm so sorry I made you unhappy, Satan." Morticia said sarcastically. "Now what do you want with me?"
"I was very excited, when you were born. I thought, 'Oh, Goody! A girl who's dark, morbid and loves chopping the heads off of dolls and clipping roses.' I thought that meant you would be wicked. Well then I observed you accepting your daisy growing neighbors, acting classy, being polite and falling for a man. Only then did I realize you would never be what I wanted you to be."
"And your unhappy because I'm not evil?" Morticia hit home.
"Bingo! Would you like a sticker?" Satan asked her, full of sarcasm. "No? Alright then. You should be the worst woman alive considering your style. But no, you have to be happy... in a weird... morbid, way. But the point is, your not out invading your enimies nightmares at night like a female Freddy Kruger. Your in bed with your husband... who also makes me very angry."
"Leave Gomez out of this. He didn't do a thing to you." Morticia said.
"Oh but you have no idea, -what is it he calls you- ah, yes. Cara mia... pretty, is that Italian? Never mind. You have no idea, sweet Morticia. No idea!" Satan yelled.
"What did he do that was so terrible?"
"He's just so... ugh, adoring. I mean, the man freaks out every freaking time you speak French! It's not that exciting, buddy. Once or twice, I get it. Your a pretty woman but he's already got his race car, he doesn't need to keep driving it. And he sword fights! The man sword fights! What is the fascination with that? It's the twenty first century! We have other weapons like guns and bombs! And he has torture devices downstairs that don't even make sense! He's got a rack next to a bed of nails, next to an iron maiden next to swords! Here are the swords again! Again, why? You people have like eighty swords in your house! And where he get all his money? He's richer than me!" Morticia examined her nails as Satan went on his rant about her husband. "You aren't even listening!" He screamed.
"Yes I am. You questioned my husband's need for swords? He sword fights because he is smart. What your being attacked and your gun one day isn't loaded. And all you have next to you is a sword. But you don't know how to sword fight, you're dead. It's also a hobby. But that is not the main reason. We Addamses, typically have the inability to die unless murdered. So you see, we have to protect ourselves. And he was the best mark in Spain when he lived tere for a year, when he was sixteen." Morticia explained.
"Shut up, I didn't ask you. And in any event, I need you to do something for me. Your not leaving... unless you become who I've always wanted you to be." Satan told her. "I'm going to turn you into a monster until your strong enough to do what I need."
"And what is that?" Morticia asked.
"Kalvin? I need him dead." Satan told her.
Morticia would never kill anyone. "Why?"
"He is a threat, a threat to Hell. Like you, he is not what he should be. Only he can not be broken. He is too good. I need to dispose of him. And I will put you through tests. And to prove to me you have changed, you will kill him."
"And if I refuse?" Morticia asked him.
Satan chuckled. "If you refuse... all of your worst fears will be realized."
"I don't have any." Morticia lied.
"Oh?" Satan sighed and waved his hand dismissively. He looked at the faceless man. "Take her to her cell."
The faceless man grabbed a struggling Morticia and led her down a dark hall. She heard speaking. "You should not have said that." The voice said. It spoke again when she did not answer. "You, are quite rude." She soon realized that it was the faceless man.
"You speak?" Morticia asked.
"Indeed." The man said. "I am number three."
"Oh. But what's your name?" Morticia was thoroughly confused.
"I have not a name. My name is number three. I am Satan's slave. I was born to serve and will die in servitude." Number three said.
"You have no life outside of this?"
"None of us do." And without another word, he dragged her into a dungeon cell. And it had nothing in it. He pushed her in and locked the door. She hit the stone floor and cut her hand. However she now had an amount of sympathy for number three. Because even if she would be stuck down in Hell forever, she had a wonderful life before then. And for that alone, she would forever be greatful.
She got up and felt someone behind her. And she slowly stood to face the person. She turned and there he was. An inch taller than her, if not then her height. Dark brown, nearly black hair. Brown eyes, her eyes. A black ripped suit due to the torture he suffered during the nineteen years he had been in Hell. And she, the strong willed Morticia... ran to him, weeping and uttered the first words she had spoken to him in years. Since the day he helped her five years ago. "Father."