𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐩 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐈𝐕

"Do you remember when we did that duet for the Solstice Talent Show?" Mortician asked seductively, his voice taking on a sultry tone as his obsidian eyes drilled into glassy blue crystal ones. Lukas had lifted his head to smile at Mortician. It was getting increasingly tiring to do so. Such a dominant man like Mortician Addams could drain one in a second. The only reason that Lukas Weems didn't falter was because the proud, all commanding Principal was a very dominant personality himself.

Lukas nods.

"Your Clark Gable impression was a dead ringer." Mortician points again as he purrs silkily, to which Lukas gave another slight nod.

"Sounds positively suicidal." mutters Saturday, standing a ways from his parents and his Principal.

"Oh." continued Mortician as he looked through the Yearbook, his luscious lips forming a perfect O. "My picture's gone." he stared down at the torn out page. A solemn and quite elegant GOMEZ FRUMP's square, black and white photo was on the next page, as were many other students, all photographed in black and white and cropped into perfect squares.

All the photos were complete with a little description of: 

𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶: ...

𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂: ...

𝓕𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓸𝓽𝓮: ...

With the students' name in bold, printed vertically next to their photo.

GOMEZ FRUMP's description read:

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𝓓𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶: 

I dream of a life with love beyond measure. Of juggling, throwing knives, diving for crabs, and crashing expectations. I dream of immeasurable wealth through inheritance and investments. I dream of owning a swamp (indecipherable) farm, a salt mine, a tombstone factory, and a uranium mine.

𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂: 

My future lies with the love of my life and following in the "Letter of Law." I love the protective nature of the Justice System and being a role model to other citizens. It is something I will take to the cemetery and to my grave.

𝓕𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓺𝓾𝓸𝓽𝓮: 

I loved him not for the way he danced with my angels, but how the mention of his name could silence my demons. - Me, when describing the love of my life, Mortician.

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"Really? Well, that is odd." Lukas replies, his tone light with confusion, and furrowing his perfectly sculpted white-blonde eyebrows as he tilts his head slightly, perfectly feigning bewilderment.

Mortician smiled warmly at Lukas. "May I borrow this for the weekend?" he asks, his voice deep and honeyed. He turned back to his eldest son, who had remained completely stiff and motionless throughout his Father and Principal's whole conversation, and his loving wife.

Looking at his wife affectionately, he says: "That way Gomez and I can take a little walk down memory lane." as he strokes the cover of the large thin Yearbook with one of his pale hands.

Gomez purrs playfully back at her husband as Mortician gives Lukas another one of his satisfactory, winning smirks. Saturday's clever obsidian eyes dart from his Father to his Mother. He wasn't sure which one of them was the bigger embarrassment. This was as bad as publicly displaying affection.

"All right." Principal Weems extends a large pale hand. "Let's get down to the matter at hand, shall we? Hmm?" he lifts his perfect eyebrows as he says smoothly. He replaces his hand and arm neatly onto his large, smooth, wooden table. 

On it stood a realistic small black skull covered by a glass covering on one side, a life sized, realistic raven statue on display on the other with a shining fancy lamp with a large covering with a warm yellow glow and slightly behind the raven was a modern version of a traditional wired telephone.

"Unfortunately, Saturday's assimilation has been rocky at best." his deep, smooth voice was gentle but authoritative. Mortician proceeded to lazily sit down on the other large black leather chair in front of the Principal's desk.

He looked upward sideways at the word "rocky" before lowering his eyes and head a little to look at Mortician and Gomez. Another forced smile playing on his lips as he flashed his perfectly white and straight teeth.

Saturday ever so slightly tilts his head. "Because I refuse to embrace the culture of dishonesty and denial permeating this school." he replies coldly and emotionlessly as he slowly approaches his Principal's desk, his arms still stiffly at his sides, displaying a lack of regard for authority per usual. 

He stopped. "Starting with the monster that killed Rowan and put Eugene in the ICU." his deep voice was nonchalant but unrelenting. "Although I do hear he's "on the mend"." he mocks indifferently. Principal Weems' smile rapidly disappeared. 

"We've always encouraged Saturday to speak his mind." Principal Weems' turned his attention to Gomez as she explained. "Sometimes his sharp tongue can cut deep." she confessed as she made a motion with her chubby tan hand and scrunched up her pudgy face.

"Apparently his therapist feels he hasn't been very open to the process." Principal Weems narrowed his sly crystal blue eyes as he challenged, a smirk playing at his lips, making an elegant hand motion himself. "Their time together has not yielded the results we'd hoped." he says silkily.

"I'm not a lab rat." was Saturday's immediate, curt, cutting reply.

Principal Weems smirked arrogantly.

"Dr. Kinbott and I have spoken, and we both agree it would be most beneficial for you all to attend a family session this weekend." says the Principal as he lowered his gaze from his student to the two parents sitting in front of him.

Mortician's shining obsidian eyes slowly moved sideways, in the direction of his son, as Gomez breathed in a thin breath.

"No." came Saturday's icy response.

His Principal smirked back up at him. "I thought that might be your reaction, but your parents can see the wisdom in it." he smiled broadly at Gomez.

"Um, not to side with Saturday," Mortician's voice was deep and seductive as he pointed to his eldest son. "but, um, we're only here for the weekend." his voice turned dry as he smirked at Lukas.

Saturday lifted his head ever so slightly.

"Oh, come on." Gomez reasoned with her husband, opening up her arms. "What can it hurt? I mean to be honest," she put up both her hands in front of Principal Weems. "I've always been a big fan of head-shrinking." her hands formed circles as she neared the end of her sentence, smiling widely and showing her uneven, yellow teeth.

"It's not that kind of head-shrinking, mon chéri." Mortician says airily in his deep voice as it takes on a more seductive tone. Principal Weems smirked as he closed his eyes momentarily.

Both parents turned their attention back to the Principal.

"Well, that is disappointing." Gomez says dejectedly.

"But anything for our dear boy." finishes Mortician, with a bit more control in his deep, silky voice.

Principal Weems' stiff pale face broke into a winning smile. "Ah." He had won and he knew it. His eyes drilled back into Saturday, as the unmoving young boy glared coldly at his Father from the side of his eyes before cold, hard obsidian eyes found sly crystal blue ones.

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