Wenclair - a New Term at Nevermore

Chapter 36

Wednesday locked her emotional consciousness back in its cupboard in the viscera of her brain matter. A lapse in diligence had led to leaked information by Thing, and now Gomez and Morticia could not stop loudly whispering about 'young love', and Pugsley was splitting his time between paying attention to his little brother and sending a smug smirk in Wednesday's direction. Thing was duly spending his time in Wednesday's desk drawer as a result and Wednesday was spending her time issuing rebuttals of the suggestion over lunch.

As a matter of convenience the Addamses kept the story that they were going out to Jericho for lunch because it would be so much harder to explain why they were taking a picnic in a specific spot in the woods near Crackstone's now empty crypt.

"This is where the Nightshades held their first unsanctioned camping trip.", declared Morticia, gliding ethereally about the site and stopping between two gnarled old trees. "This is where Gomez and I pitched our tent."

"Mia vida, I pitched the tent while you helped to light the fire, remember?"

"Of course. We did not sleep much." After a long-suffering glare from all three children at their terrible romanticism, Morticia rectified her statement, saying, "The Nightshades talked and played games well into the night."

She sighed deeply, perhaps disappointed in Wednesday's stubborn refusal to join the teenaged high-society club, and returned to the picnic blanket only to find the basket already open and the three boys chewing on squashed-fly biscuits; Grandmama's specialty. There were quite a few of Grandmama's rather unique specialties for lunch. Gomez, eating a scone with some sort of green growth on its surface, broached the subject of his daughter's roommate.

"So tell me about this Enid girl."

"Father, I can tell that you believe I love her. I believe, in turn, that your rose-tinted glasses have become so thorn-infested as to blind you. Perhaps you would be better off focusing, as you so often enjoy doing, on your own happy marriage."

Pugsley interjected. "You told me you didn't like Joel and then you kissed him through a fence."

"Who is this you are talking about?", cried Gomez, who of course had not been at Camp Chippewa to witness the whole debacle.

Wednesday was striding away through the trees before Pugsley could register the knife flying at his throat, which was unfortunately caught by Pubert, who had a talent in stilling blades before they reached their mark. Less than half a minute later a secondary knife embedded itself in the picnic basket, a hurried message scratched into its hilt - 'Parent-teacher meetings begin at 14:30. Do not bother to attend if cannot shut mouth.'