a/n: Sorry for the (massive) delay in this chapter update, I kept starting it, and then not being able to go very far (it was a difficult plot to come up with), but anyway, here it is (finally), I hope you all enjoy it!
"Nobody appreciates me anymore!" announced Mama loudly at breakfast one day.
The members of the Addams Family looked up from their burnt toast and henbane tea, startled at the intrusion to their otherwise silent meal.
Morticia smiled politely, tilting her head slightly to the side (in fact, it was so slight that the only person who noticed any change to her posture was her husband), "Now Mama, you know that's simply not true."
"Of course it is," replied Mama petulantly, "Why, nobody even comes to ask me for beauty advice anymore."
"Mama," tried Gomez, "That's because you've already given us enough advice, our family has more beauty than any other family on the street."
Mama looked around at the rest of her family. At Fester, who was arm wrestling Thing for the wishbone of the toast. At Lurch, who was trying in vain to tell Fester that there was none. At Cousin Itt, who had gotten yam jam in his hair and was frantically trying to get it out. At Wednesday and Pugsley, their faces both hidden behind crumbs as they kicked each other under the table, in an argument over who got to use the guillotine next. And finally at Morticia and Gomez, one who was staring kindly at the older woman, and the other who was staring hungrily at his wife.
"That as it may be," said Mama, "I still think that you all don't appreciate me. I mean, look," she pulled at her shawl, "I got a new tear in my shawl, and not one of you has thought to compliment it yet."
Morticia eyed it thoughtfully, "It is a lovely tear Mama, I'm sorry I hadn't noticed it. But please don't think that's anything against you, I just-"
"Too late," said Mama dramatically, "I'm going to go and spend the rest of my days with the turtle, and least the turtle appreciates me."
With a sweeping gesture Mama stood and left the room, her nose in the air.
"Oh dear," murmured Morticia.
A little later in the morning a frustrated Wednesday came hurtling down the stairs and into the room where her mother was painting.
"Mother!" she whined.
"What is it Wednesday?" asked Morticia, concerned.
"I can't get my hair to braid this morning, it keeps getting tangled up," she complained.
Morticia ran an affectionate hand atop her daughter's long, and slightly tangled, hair, "Oh dear, I see that."
"Can you fix it for me?" asked Wednesday, thrusting her cactus brush forward.
"Of course I can darling," said Morticia, taking the proffered brush.
Morticia began gently tugging the brush through her daughter's hair. Then she stopped.
"Actually darling," started Morticia, "I have an idea."
Baffled Wednesday turned to look at her mother.
"Perhaps, if you ask Mama to help you with your hair, she'll feel less neglected."
Wednesday thought it over for a moment, then, dubiously, she took the cactus brush from her mother and gallantly left the room.
When Wednesday entered the living room he saw her brother and father were already attempting to show Mama how much they appreciated her. Pugsley was attempting to show her his dynamite caps, and Gomez was demonstrating how to do some Zen Yogi, in hopes that she may try to participate. However, Mama was unfazed, sitting beside the turtle, with her attention completely on the taxidermy, and the taxidermy alone. Wednesday stepped back into the doorway to watch the scene. Just as she was about to re-enter the room, Fester came barreling down the stairs.
"Look!" he exclaimed, "I mixed you a drink!"
Mama did not remove her gaze from the turtle, although she expressed a little huff of acknowledgement.
"What is it, Fester old man?" asked Gomez as he righted his position from his head to his feet.
"Well," said Fester, not really sure how to answer the question, "I mixed all of Mama's favourite poisons together, I'm not sure how it will taste though…" he trailed off.
Gomez eyed the suspicious looking concoction, "Delightful, I'm sure," he said with enthusiasm.
Lurch then slowly entered the room, with a tray of something that vaguely resembled the grey sludge that occasionally formed a skin over the swamp water. Wednesday decided that's probably what it was. Thing's box was also on the tray, Thing waiting patiently inside with a serving spoon.
Lurch attempted to offer it to Mama, who blatantly refused it.
"If Grandmama won't have it, can I?" asked Pugsley, eyeing the dish hungrily.
Lurch moaned in response. Disappointed, Pugsley turned back to his dynamite caps.
"Wednesday darling," came Morticia's voice from behind the small child.
If Wednesday was startled by her mother's sudden appearance, she did not show it, she turned slightly to face her mother (who was delicately holding the painting that she had been working on), while still keeping a close eye on the chaos that ensued in the living room.
"Did Mama refuse your offer?" Morticia asked curiously.
"No Mother," replied Wednesday, "I haven't made it yet, but I think she will," she nodded slightly at the petulant old woman.
Morticia observed the chaos thoughtfully, "Perhaps you may be right dear."
Morticia put down the canvas that she was holding. In a flash (or rather explosion, as Pugsley had just accidentally set off one of his dynamite caps), Wednesday's hair was in its signature braids.
"Mother," said Wednesday, "I have another idea, may I try it?"
"Of course darling," replied Morticia, she picked up the canvas that she had set aside, "I'm going to try something too."
Wednesday turned to leave as her mother elegantly drifted into the living room with a painting of Mama and the turtle.
"My," said Morticia as she reached Mama, "You've been sitting with the turtle for so long now, I can hardly tell the two of you apart."
"Yes," Gomez agreed, finishing the compliment, "you certainly do look similar".
"Will the real Granny please stand up!" joked Pugsley.
Before the rest of the Addams family could get their compliments (and jokes) in, Wednesday entered, followed by a trail of slime, which was of course, caused by the alligator that she had dragged into the living room by a frayed rope.
"Grandmama!" she called, "would you please wrestle the alligator for us!?"
Mama turned slightly, eying the angered creature's snapping jaws as Wednesday struggled to keep it under control. Mama smiled softly.
"You do appreciate me!" she said happily as she got up with far too much vigour for a woman of her age and leapt at the alligator.
The rest of the family heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief, knowing that all members of the family were happy again.