Addams Family 1977

Each object, each corner of the room held fond memories. Over the years, he and Morticia had made love on every square inch of that room. On the bed. Under the bed. On the rug on the floor. On the bedside chair. On the bedside table. On the dresser. On the window ledge. On the trunk at the foot of the bed. In the trunk at the foot of the bed. In the wardrobe. Under the wardrobe. On top of the wardrobe. Suspended upside-down from the rod in the closet.

Thinking about all of that sexual activity reminded Gomez of their honeymoon. That was certainly a week he would never forget. After their nuptials the happy couple had piled into the roadster and Lurch chauffeured them to Death Valley where they spent a blissful week of love in a dank, bat-filled cave. On his wedding night, as Gomez waited alone in the dark, his beautiful bride had come to him, shyly, her bright eyes downcast. Wearing the traditional sheer black lace nightgown, in her delicate hand she carried a single black candle. How timid, how frightened and uncertain she had seemed. Within the cave a dank breeze tossed her glossy black hair around her narrow shoulders as the candle flame flickered.

She had been a maiden when they married, untouched. And he, Gomez had been a man of the world. To his great shame he had been a beast that night, he would be the first to admit it. But it had taken years for him to find the right woman. The instant he laid eyes on her he had known. He had awaited this night for so very long and his prize was his at last. He could contain his passion for her no longer. In his haste to possess her, he had torn away the sheer fabric of her gown. How breathtaking his bride had been. Her deathly-pale skin shown a ghostly white in the glow of the flickering candlelight. Capping each of her small breasts her nipples were as red as her blood-red lips. Her belly flat and smooth and between her slender legs shimmering black hair concealed her virgin womanhood. How naïve she had been. Unlike Gomez who had courted many more worldly women in his youth, Morticia had had no previous experience in the ways of love, yet, she had been ready, even eager, to learn. As the candle burned low, their oldest child Pugsley had been conceived that very first night, lying on the cold hard floor of the cave as the bats fluttered about overhead. Sadly, thinking about that night only served to remind Gomez just how long it had been since he had even seen his beautiful wife, let alone touched her. With their hot Castilian blood, Addams men were ill equipped to live a celibate life.

Dejectedly Gomez closed the bedroom door this time making certain this time that the latch caught. If he had to, next time he would nail it shut! He could no longer bear the sight of that room … or that bed. The huge, rock-hard mattress was just too inviting. His back ached from sleeping, night after night, on the soft sofa in the parlor. But he simply could not force himself to sleep in that bed … not alone, not without his Cara Mia. Almost since the day they wed that had always been their bed.

Though his heart was shattered at the very least Gomez did take some small comfort in his physical pain.

Halfway down the mansion's central staircase Gomez nearly slipped and tumbled down the remaining stairs when he stepped into a massive hairball which Kitty Kat had so thoughtfully left behind.

Bless his leonine heart, Gomez thought. Even in his declining years, Kitty is thinking of me and, in my loneliness, is leaving me little gifts. I will have to make sure to put a little something special in his dinner bowl tonight. Perhaps some of that leftover fungus marinated Yak flank steak… oh, yes, and I must make a point of cleaning out his litter box this afternoon! The not so subtle fragrance of ammonia is beginning to permeate the entire structure.

After scraping the sole of his shoe on the edge of the tread, Gomez continued down to the main floor. There he wandered through each adjoining room, gazing forlornly at the scattered remnants of his once happy life. He listened to the deafening silence. The only sound, the ticking of the clock in the parlor and the melancholy echo of his own footsteps on the hardwood floors.

In the dining room Gomez paused.

Their daughter had been conceived a mere fifteen months after their son Pugsley's birth. Unlike her brother, Wednesday had been conceived here within the Addams' house. She had, in fact, been conceived right here on this dining room table. Gomez smiled at the memory of the mad, all consuming impulse that had driven him to leap from his chair just as the first course of the meal was about to be served, clear the dinner table with one swipe of his forearm and, pulling is wife into his arms, he tore open her gown and lay her exquisite milky white body down upon the oak table's well-worn finish. Then, after hastily tearing away his own clothing, he had ravished her then and there. It had been her own fault, the little vixen! What a mad, impetuous woman! They had been married for several years at that point and she very well knew what effect French had on him, yet recklessly, she had uttered those words all the same.

"Bon appétit."

Little Pugsley's high chair stood beside the massive table. But as a toddler, the boy had been much too young to eat Mamá Addams' special dragon's blood olla podrida, and, since Uncle Fester was allergic to its exotic spices, Fester and the toddler had spent that particular evening in the back yard tree house, climbing, playing games, and eating salamander sandwiches instead.

Pugsley's Grandmamá, on the other hand, had been less than thrilled upon seeing the steaming caldron of dragon's blood stew – an old Addams family delicacy which takes several days to prepare properly - sailing across the room. Yes, Gomez's poor old white-haired Mama could only gape in incomprehension as her spicy olla podrida was spoiled and her priceless heirloom dishes and glassware crashed and shattered onto the hardwood floor at their feet.

Lost in his memories Gomez laid a hand on the table's cool oak surface. Like a faithful old family retainer, the massive old table had held up well under the pounding he had given it (and his wife) that evening so long ago, though as he recalled it the table had creaked loudly in protest with each thrust. He had continued to pound into her until, sweating profusely, he began to find it difficult to maintain his grasp on her. Through a haze of lust he had gazed down upon his naked bride in the center of the table, her raven-black hair spread all around her like a fan. A melodic symphony of sounds engulfed the room. The rhythmic resounding slapping of flesh on flesh each time his hips made solid contact with her small but shapely ass. And then, at long last, he had cried out in supreme triumph at the moment of ejaculation as he filled his bride with his semen. At last his thrusting ground to a halt, his lust satiated at last, if only for the moment. Gasping for air, Gomez stood for the longest time and gazed in awe upon his bride as she lay spread out on the table before him. A veritable feast for the eyes. Her long, lean body. Beneath her ashen skin, aglow now after multiple orgasms, taut abdominal muscles quivered. Her long legs spread wide for him, wrapped round his waist, her loins still impaled upon his rapidly softening phallus. Had he not already been winded, his breath would have been taken away by this exquisite creature. He could barely comprehend that this woman belonged to him. His bride. His woman. His wife. The mother of his son. His heart swelled with love. On impulse he had gathered her body up into his arms and smothered her with kisses. He kissed her full red lips, her half-closed eyelids, her forehead. When she threw back her head in invitation he kissed and nibbled on her exquisite white throat. He kissed every inch of her exposed flesh within reach of his lips. In between kisses he tried as best he could, though words seemed woefully inadequate at such a poignant occasion, to express the immeasurable depth of his passion, his complete and utter devotion, as well as his unspeakable good fortune that he alone, of all men, should have won the heart of such a prize as she. What a woman!

Finally, with great reluctance he had released his bride, returning her elegant form to the tabletop and slowly withdrawing his now flaccid penis. She lay there but a moment longer, her long elegant legs still splayed as her husband's abundant seed oozed from her loins, anointing the tabletop beneath her shapely derriere. Then Gomez, grinning broadly and exceedingly pleased with himself at his own sexual prowess, set about the daunting task of retrieving his clothing scattered among the shards of broken glass and china. He redressed himself at a leisurely pace, even while continuing to admire his lovely wife's grace and beauty.

After taking but a moment to collect herself Morticia rose and, with the utmost poise, removed herself from the tabletop. Her black gown was shredded down the front exposing her heaving breasts and dripping womanhood. She smiled serenely and without a hint of modesty, announced to Mamá and their wide-eyed dinner guests that she would be serving the main course of the repast forthwith. What a woman!

Morticia had outdone herself on the gastronomic delights that evening. As Gomez recalled the main course had consisted of brazed hummingbird tongues served on a bed of wilted deadly nightshade leaves and garnished with fresh wolf's bane sprigs. Following the entrée Morticia had served a very special dessert. A little something she had prepared beforehand. The culmination to the scrumptious meal had consisted of colorful individual parfaits fashioned of succulent early-season pond scum, sweetened with red, ripe belladonna berries and adorned with tiny multicolored toadstools. An old Frump family recipe masterfully adapted for the season by her own very talented hands. A ravenous Gomez had found the meal and the dessert nearly as delectable as he had his bride just moments before.

It seemed most unfortunate however, that, for some reason which he could not immediately fathom, their dinner guests had been strangely withdrawn during the subsequent dinner courses and throughout the remainder of the evening. Their eyes downcast, they had barely touched their food. It broke his gallant heart to see all of his wife's culinary efforts go utterly unappreciated. His mind on other things, by the time Gomez realized his faux pas, it was far too late to alter his abhorrent behavior or to make amends to their stunned dinner guests. Later, in hindsight, he could only chastise himself for his total lack of self-control. Upon further reflection it should have been glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes that their dining companions had been less than pleased to have missed out on the spicy stew. After all, Mamá's special dragon's blood olla podrida was (and still is) renowned throughout the known world!

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As if in a daze Gomez glanced up from the table top. The silence in the empty house was palpable. In a darkened corner of the dining room Morticia's favorite houseplant moped dejectedly. Though Gomez had been vigilant to take special care to feed and water all of the plants, Cleopatra seemed to have lost a most of her usual luster and energy in Morticia's absence. In the past few days she had even refused to eat. Not even giraffe burgers, her favorite, could tempt her. He would have to make a point of moving her into the conservatory later, Gomez decided. Tonight was the first night of the full moon. Direct moonlight would do her good.

"You miss her too, don't you, Cleopatra?" he asked the houseplant. The heartbroken African Strangler just lay there. It did not respond to his words.

His palm still on the cool oak tabletop, Gomez gazed around the rest of the room. Over twenty years had passed since that eventful dinner and yet the dining room's ancient wallpaper still bore the unmistakable blue-green stain of dragon's blood.

He had been so young and impulsive in those early days. With time, Morticia had become adept at, if not taming, at least reining in her husband's very passionate nature.

Gomez stepped to the doorway and gazed out into the conservatory focusing on nothing in particular. Here too, hazy sunlight filtered in through the filthy panes of glass. A stray thought ran through his mind. Why is it, Gomez wondered, that a quiet house should be a source of such melancholy? Was it possible that the grand old house itself was the source of these darkest of dark emotions? Did the house … did its ancient timbers and cracked plaster walls miss the children, the family, the love, the music, the laughter and other sounds of life that once inhabited its nearly uninhabited shell.

As another wave of melancholy swept over him Gomez released another exaggerated, heart-broken sigh. Oh, if only the U.S. Representative from their home district had not been killed last spring, struck dead when a lamp post fell on him during the Easter parade downtown. If not for the congressman's misfortune it was possible his Querida would not have gotten the notion into her pretty little head to become involved in politics.

'Morticia Addams for Congress'

The signs had sprung up like toadstool, first in their own neighborhood, then in front yards and along the highways across half the state. At the time, Gomez had not been overly concerned with Morticia's new hobby. Even when she began wearing bizarre clothing such as high heeled shoes and tweed pant suits, Gomez was behind his wife one hundred and fifty percent. It's a phase, he thought at the time. Just a phase. Besides, he mused, it will do her good to become involved in something new. She had not been her usual happy self since the children left home. She'd lost interest in all of her former hobbies, painting, fencing, dancing… All of them. He reasoned that what his wife needed to find a new purpose in her life. It never occurred to him for a moment that she might actually get elected! After all, he himself had worked tirelessly for her campaign and that in itself should have been sufficient to insure its utter failure.

But autumn had come, and with it came the scandal. (You might have read about it at the time. It was all over the national news. On television, in the papers. Something about her opponent and some abnormal sexual fetishes, or so the papers had said.) Morticia had been elected to the office by a landslide. Still, even as she had packed for her trip to Washington DC, ever optimistic Gomez had remained convinced that, when the time arrived, his beloved wife would be unable to depart. She would not leave him. And then, even as she climbed into the back seat of their car and Lurch chauffeured her down the driveway and out onto the street, Gomez knew Morticia would be unable to stay away from him for long. Since the night they wed, they had never been apart for more than a few days at a time. Understandably the children were no longer here, but surely she would miss her home, miss her garden. After a marriage of over twenty years, surely she would miss her Querido!

But no, alas, it was not to be. Though she might appear delicate his Morticia was a formidable and strong-willed woman. She had been duly elected, she declared, and she was determined do her duty. She would, she added, go to Washington and represent her constituents to the very best of her ability!

Gomez was devastated.

Throughout the long, cold winter he had continued to console himself with the knowledge that Morticia would be returning to him soon. Any day now! Day after day he held onto a thin thread of hope that, with the coming spring, the warm and sunny weather on the east coast would convince his wife to return home to him. He was certain that as strong-willed as she was, she would not be able to abide the sunshine and those hideous cherry blossoms that blighted Washington's lovely cherry trees each and every spring! In the end, his hopes had been dashed. Even the fates, it seemed, had conspired against Gomez Alonzo Addams, for in the spring a tropical hurricane had spun up the east coast and hit the nation's capital full force. In its zeal the storm had scoured every last flower bud, as well as most of the leaves, from the cherry trees all along the Potomac River. In the storm's aftermath the weather there had remained particularly cold, gray and rainy. Just the type of weather he and Morticia had always so enjoyed.

"Cara Mia," he exclaimed over the telephone just days before. "I shall pack a bag and leave today. If I catch an east-bound passenger train this afternoon can be in Washington with you in mere days."

Had it been a figment of his imagination or had there been a long, awkward pause before Morticia replied? "I would love to have you here with me, my pet. But I am so busy right now. There are meetings and committees. You have no idea. I fear I would have no time at all for you. And you would be utterly miserable here in Washington while I'm at work. Even with all of this lovely rain this city is such a dreadfully bright and cheerful place just beneath the gloom. And besides," she added, "with the children gone and everyone else away, there would be no one there to look after our house or to tend my garden. What would become of my Cleopatra? Who would feed Kitty?"

Reluctantly Gomez grasped the truth in her words. And no doubt he would be miserable in Washington, but, alas, he was miserable in the mansion as well! If he was going to be miserable he might as well do it in the comfort of his own home.

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Bypassing the parlor and whatever mail the postman might have brought, Gomez headed instead for his study. There he would set up and play with his model trains. Who knew, maybe a truly remarkable explosion would help to bring back his usual congenial mood. The kind of explosion that caused the walls to shake, the plaster fall, and the bats in the attic to scream and fly away in panic.

As he entered the study Gomez consoled himself with one thought. As much as he missed his beloved Cara Mia, at least their time apart had not been a complete waste. During this long interval of separation he had made one monumental discovery. It was something that had never occurred to him until now. In his solitude Gomez Addams had discovered that misery is not nearly so pleasant a thing when one must endure it alone.

The End

Due to circumstances beyond my control there will be no further installments to this story.

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