It's been just a little while since I've written and this is just a little chapter. Don't worry we'll return to the Weds/Pugsley drama soon enough! There's always plenty of drama in the Addams family! Please Read and Review!

Disclaimer: Remember I don't own anything Addams family - I did make up Teeter and Totter though ;) Enjoy!

Part Six: Family Meetings

Morticia looked up from her knitting at the growl of Pugsley's wolf's head clock. "Ah," she thought, "there's nothing like the homey sounds of a child's clock to make an evening complete." Five growls filled the air, temporarily obscuring the pitter-pattering footsteps of Pubert racing down the stairs.

Leaping nimbly to avoid Bruno's sprawled out form at the base of the staircase, Pubert skidded to a stop directly in front of his mother's chair. Despite his boisterous entrance, Morticia looked down at her son's panting form utterly unperturbed. "Yes, Pubert?" Morticia asked serenely.

Pubert took a deep breath and, with great dignity, straightened out the part in his hair and smoothed his mustache before answering, "Well Mother, I fear I bring some distressing news. Thing is missing."

Fear flashed in Morticia's eyes before she recovered with some semblance of calm, "Really dear, are you sure?"

"I've checked the house, the cemetery, the swamp, the bottomless pit, the tunnel, and the car, and there's no sign of him anywhere," Pubert recounted.

Now the fear was plain on Morticia's face. She rose from her chair, eyes roving widely and muttered to herself, "We must call a family meeting, immediately."

Turning to Pubert, she said, "Darling? Please go and assemble your siblings and Mama. We must meet at once and try to find out what's happened to Thing."

Pubert snapped to attention, and, saluting his mother, ran out of the room to gather Pugsley, Wednesday, and Mama.

Meanwhile, Morticia called, attempting to keep her anxiety out of her voice for fear of upsetting her husband, "Gomez?"

She imagined that he was likely two floors up, playing with his trains or a floor down, relaxing in the playroom. Sighing, she realized she'd have to go searching after him, a feat that was so trying, particularly in her tight, floor-length gown. Suddenly, inspiration struck.

"Gomez, mon cher? Viens à moi, s'il te plais." She crooned softly, caressing each of the French words, a smile curling up her lips. Impossibly, Gomez came rushing down the stairs, cigar in hand, and his conductor's hat sitting cockeyed on his head, shouting, "Tish! That's French!"

He gripped her hand and began his traditional kissing up her arm. As he reached her neck, Morticia held up a hand, and whispered, "Gomez darling."

Gomez heard something strange in Morticia's tone, something different from her usual coy teasing. He pulled up quickly and stared intently into her eyes.

"Querida," he cried, "What is it?" He gripped both her hands, and drew them to his lips. His deep eyes penetrated hers with a searching gaze. She tried to hide the depth of her fear, but knew deep down that Gomez could see through even her best disguises.

Finally she spoke. "Darling, I fear that something terrible may have happened to Thing. He is gone."

When Gomez gasped, she gripped his hands harder and maneuvered him into a chair. Gomez and Thing had been together since Gomez was a boy. Thing was young Gomez's first and best friend.

Gomez's eyes held the empty horror of a pitch-black tunnel or an unmarked tombstone. Morticia tried to console him. "I've called a family meeting so we can figure out when or how or why Thing might have left and what might have happened to him."

Gomez was comforted by Morticia's proactive approach, and quickly jumped out of his melancholy and his chair, and began pacing the room, planning out how to conduct the meeting.

Across town, another family meeting was already underway.

Fester, Dementia, and Totter sat uncomfortably around the dining room table. Totter's eyes shifted between the table and the door, and her tiny body fidgeted constantly in her chair. She knew the purpose of this family meeting. She knew what Ms. Dementia would say, and frankly, she couldn't disagree with her, but she also couldn't bring herself to confront her twin sister either, so she waited in silence.

Finally, Dementia rose, and, with great dignity, cleared her throat and spoke.

"Totter," she said gently, "I'm sorry to say this, but I really think we must discuss the issue of your sister, Teeter."

Totter, too miserable to raise her eyes from the tabletop, only nodded. Tears began to well in her eyes as she remembered the past day and a half her sister had spent with them.

Teeter had arrived from the hospital in the early evening. Her broken arm and leg were securely encased in plaster as they rolled her in on a wheelchair. Her head, which had taken a serious beating in her fall down the Grand Canyon, was wrapped up like a mummy. Totter remembered thinking that the look was quite flattering. But her first impression was soon shattered when the nurse commented, "Go easy on her in the first few days. We think she has suffered some memory loss from the concussion so she may act strangely for a while."

Totter had rushed to her sister's side, only to find that Teeter hardly remembered her at all. She seemed to take it in stride though, and after a few explanations, Teeter seemed appeased. The memory loss, though an interesting quirk in Teeter's already quirky personality, wasn't the reason for the family meeting.

Totter was jolted back to reality as Dementia continued.

"Really, dear," she said, "It's not that we don't want her here, or that we don't like her, not at all. It's just," Dementia paused, struggling for the right words, "she's been acting so very strangely."

Totter nodded. Her sister's behavior was very disturbing for her as well. She'd never seen her sister like that before.

Dementia added, "I just think we need to decide what we should do to help her, well, come to her senses."

Fester seemed to take this problem very seriously, choosing this moment to rise, bring one hand to his chin, and pace the room.

"Hmm," Fester pondered, "Indeed dear, what would bring her to her senses…"

The three of them puzzled, but then Fester cried, excited, "Nitroglycerin?"

Dementia rebuked him, "Fester! She hasn't got indigestion!"

Fester grumbled in response, "Humph. Well it's a thought anyway." He resumed his pacing with a slightly disgruntled set to his shoulders.

Totter felt as though her head were empty save for her fears and sadness over the strange creature that seemed to have control over her sister for the time being. She remembered how they'd been inseparable as children. It wasn't until Momma called the surgeon that they'd even spent one moment apart. She remembered their childhood together, their outings, their games, their favorite foods. Suddenly she had an idea.

"I've got it!" She cried, jumping from her seat. "We just have to remind her who she really is."

Dementia's eyes lit up. "Hmm, yes. I see where you're going. Some homey touches, perhaps?"

Totter began to smile as the two women discussed their plan of attack.