At the podium, Pugsley moved on to the next portion of the ceremony. He closed his eyes, clenched his hands into fists, held his breath, and turned bright red. Just when it looked like he might pass out or suffer a brain aneurysm, his face exploded into a forest of facial hair.
The crowd erupted into cheers. Gomez beamed, tears springing from his eyes. So far, so good! The newly bearded Pugsley beamed out at the crowd, his triumphant grin almost completely hidden by the dense whiskers that had suddenly sprouted all over his face.
Fester stepped up, slinging a reassuring arm around Pugsley, and said in a booming voice:
“And now . . . the Sabre Mazurka!”
The lights went out, leaving the room pitch-dark. For a long moment, nobody breathed, and the dense blackness was completely silent.
Then a single spotlight clicked on, revealing Pugsley standing in the middle of the ballroom, very much alone.
Pugsley looked around him. He was half-blinded by the spotlight, but he could just make out, in the gloom surrounding him, all the many members of his very strange family. They were all looking at him. And then, on a cue, they all drew swords! Even Auntie Sloom. Still perched on her throne of judgment, she drew an impossibly long blade and pointed it directly at Pugsley. He swallowed hard.
Then his father emerged from the dark, bearing the ceremonial sabre. He pointed the sword at his son and said, very softly, “Hold still.”
Pugsley held very, very still. Gomez took a deep, steadying breath, and then—swish! swish! swish!—the blade kissed Pugsley’s bearded face three times.
Gomez stepped back, lowering the sword. The last tufts of Pugsley’s beard drifted down and landed silently on the floor. Pugsley raised a hand and ran it over his face. It was bare again, except for a small, dapper mustache that sat neatly on his upper lip.
The Addams mustache.
Gomez nodded, satisfied. “Now you are ready,” he said to his son. He held the sabre out in two hands, and Pugsley reached a trembling hand out and took it.
It was time for the Sabre Mazurka.
Lurch began playing the music on the organ. Pugsley closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and the dance began.
Around him, members of his family began whirling and swaying to the music, brandishing swords. They swept in toward Pugsley, and before he could move—either to dance or to dodge—someone caught him with an elbow to the gut. He went down with an oof.
Pugsley scrambled up just in time to duck as a third cousin twice removed swept a sword at his neck. He scrambled toward the wall in a panic.
Suddenly, his father was there.
“Pugsley?” he said softly. Lurch stopped playing, and everyone in the room gasped in shock. They all slowly lowered their swords, confused.
“I give up,” Pugsley said miserably.
A loud murmuring started up among the assembled Addamses. Pugsley looked around. His entire family had gathered from all over the world . . . just to watch him fail. He hung his head. He’d never felt so ashamed.
Gomez knelt down and looked up into Pugsley’s face. Pugsley looked at his father, expecting him to look angry, disappointed, humiliated . . . but all he looked was worried.
“I can’t do it, Pop,” Pugsley said. He sniffled again and rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I’m sorry I let you down.”
“You haven’t let me down, Pugsley,” Gomez said. He looked into his son’s eyes. “I’ve let you down. I was so focused on doing this the traditional way, I forgot to let you be who you are.”
KRRRRRASH!
At that moment, a boulder crashed through the wall.
Everyone turned and looked out the hole in the wall to the lawn outside, where Margaux was standing on top of a golf cart, surrounded by furious townspeople. Next to her was an armed catapult. It was loaded with an enormous boulder, and there was a pile of huge stones next to it, waiting.
“Hey, are you ready for your Margaux Makeover now?” Margaux shouted into her bullhorn.
“For Hades’s sake, not again!” Morticia said. “Margaux has turned the whole town into raving lunatics.”
Gomez nodded. “I have to admit,” he said, “I admire her work.”
Margaux pulled the lever on the catapult, and a second boulder flew through the air and slammed into the house.
WHAM.
Addams family members scattered, screaming, as the boulder crashed through the house.
“GETTTTTTTTT OUTTTTTTT!” cried the poltergeist. It fled the house and plunged into the remains of the swamp at the foot of the hill. The swamp water hissed and bubbled.
Chapter 9
Gomez pulled Pugsley tight. He was about to say something when Thing appeared out of nowhere, carrying a small mine—just the very kind of mine that Pugsley had been sling-shooting at his father a few weeks ago. Pugsley sighed just looking at it. It had been a more innocent time. A time of explosives and mayhem. A time when he knew what he was good at. A time before the Mazurka had ruined his life, and before a crazy woman from television had started knocking holes in his house.
Thing waved the mine at them again, and Gomez gasped. Thing tossed Gomez the mine, and he snatched it out of the air.
“Pugsley!” Gomez said excitedly. “What is the Mazurka about?”
“It’s about protecting our family from people who threaten our very existence,” Pugsley said, confused. Why was his father asking him this now?
Gomez cocked an eyebrow and tossed Pugsley the mine. Pugsley caught it, and suddenly he understood.
Gomez grinned at Pugsley. “Go ahead,” he said. “Show ’em what you’re good at!”
Pugsley grabbed a baseball bat and batted the mine at an incoming boulder.
BLAM! The mine hit the boulder and blasted it into harmless dust before it could reach the house.
BLAM! The next boulder came flying, and this time Pugsley’s mine broke it into shards. One of them flew into the wall, decapitating a portrait of a gloomy young woman. In the hole in the wall where her head had been, a different head popped up.
“Hey, guys!” cameraman Mitch piped up cheerfully. Margaux did a double-take. Had he been there ever since he vanished during their first tour of the house?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter.
Fwip! The lever released the line, and the catapult flung another boulder at the house.
BLAM! Another perfectly thrown mine shattered it before it could wreck anything—or hit anyone.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Margaux reloaded faster this time, but Pugsley was just getting started. Moving with grace and style, he executed the best Mazurka the family had ever seen, all the while flinging explosives at the boulders. The family clapped and cheered, and Pugsley laughed as he danced. He’d been born to do this! It was effortless, beautiful, joyful.
At least . . . until he ran out of mines.
Pugsley stopped dancing, patting his pockets furiously in case he had one socked away somewhere.
“Pop, I’m out of ammo!” he cried.
“We’re trapped!” Gomez said, looking around. Piles of rubble penned the Addamses in. There was nowhere to run.
Margaux loaded another boulder into the catapult, laughing and laughing.
“Margaux Needler never quits a remodel until the project is complete,” she said, aiming her boulder at the structural column on the east side of the house. Once that column was destroyed, the ceiling would fall, smooshing everyone inside the house. And that would be the end of the Addamses in Eastfield.
Pugsley, Morticia, and Gomez huddled together, watching helplessly. Everything they’d fought for . . . the strange, horrible, lovable home they’d made for themselves . . . the promise of a new land for their entire family . . . it was all about to fall to pieces, and there was nothing they could do about it.
KABOOM. The boulder crashed through, and the ceiling began—almost as though in slow motion—to fall.
And then it stopped.
Pugsley opened his eyes and peered up.
Ichabod
the tree had caught the ceiling and was holding it in its branches. Wednesday sat primly on one of them, directing the tree’s action.
“Ichabod, quick!” she said, pointing imperiously. The tree nudged the column back into place and gently set the ceiling back. Then it lowered one of its branches to the assembled Addamses. They all scrambled up the branch into the safety of the tree.
Down on the lawn, Margaux directed her suburban-dad henchmen to load one last boulder into the catapult.
“Here’s a boulder design statement,” she shrieked. Her hand hovered over the lever.
Snap! The soft but distinctive sound of fingers snapping caught Pugsley’s attention. He looked up in time to see Thing fling one last mine in his direction. Pugsley snatched it out of the air, leapt off the tree branch, and landed with a flourish, slamming the mine against the catapult. The catapult exploded into a pile of wood chips.
“Mazurka!” Pugsley cried as he landed on one knee, his chest out and arms up. He raised his chin triumphantly.
There was a moment of silence, and then the assembled Addams and Frump clans went absolutely bonkers, cheering and clapping—and many of them hugging each other and openly weeping.
Wednesday hopped down from the tree.
Morticia reached out and gathered her in for a tender hug. “My little raven,” she said, “I’m so proud of you.”
The extended family continued to clap and cheer for a long while. But eventually they came back to themselves and remembered what had prompted the explosive Mazurka in the first place.
They turned to regard Margaux Needler and her mob of angry townspeople, only to discover that the townspeople weren’t so angry anymore.
The people of Eastfield looked around themselves in total silence. Those who had been carrying pitchforks and shovels lowered them. A few of them started walking away, shaking their heads in confusion and disgust.
“They’re not monsters . . .” one villager said.
“They’re family,” said another.
More and more of the townspeople began walking away.
“Oh, cry me a river!” Margaux yelled in outrage. “They are a bunch of monsters!”
She turned back to the Addamses. “Margaux Needler never stops until the project is complete!” she shrieked. “I will relish hounding you until that monstrosity you call a house is gone, and your mutant family with it!”
Morticia loomed over her. “Be careful what you wish for,” she said icily. “My family and I will never run from the likes of you again.”
Margaux snorted. “I’m outta here,” she said, turning on her heel. “You can expect me when you least expect it, Addams.” She gestured imperiously at Parker. “Parker! Let’s go!”
But Parker didn’t move, except to sidle closer to Wednesday. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” she told her mother. “I’m staying with my friend.”
“Your friend?!” Margaux said, whirling around in outrage. “Parker, these people are freaks.”
Parker put her chin up defiantly. “If they’re freaks,” she said, “then so am I. And,” she added, turning to the assembled townsfolk, “so are all of you.”
Wednesday stepped forward. “Exhibit A,” she said. “Ms. Gravely.”
Ms. Gravely jumped a little bit, surprised to hear her name.
“You put your underwear in the freezer,” Wednesday said.
“It’s refreshing,” Ms. Gravely answered, then blushed.
“Exhibit B,” Wednesday said. “Trudy Pickering. You put ketchup on your birthday cake!”
“What?!” Trudy said. “That is—how did you know that?!”
“Because Margaux has hidden cameras in all your homes,” Wednesday explained loudly, “and watches you all the time.”
She turned to Margaux and smiled. “And that,” she said, “makes you the freakiest of us all.”
The crowd began to rumble angrily.
Margaux turned on them. “You’re just a bunch of extras!” she shouted. “Who cares what you think? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a live show to do.”
She turned to go, but a voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Actually, Mom . . .” Parker said, and Margaux turned around slowly to see Parker walking toward her, phone held high.
“You’ve been live this whole time,” Parker said.
Margaux went sheet-white.
“Three million people are watching you right now,” Parker told her. She paused and glanced at her phone. “Wait,” she added, “make that four million.”
Brrring! Brrring!
A phone started ringing. Glenn grabbed his phone out of his pocket and slammed it up to his ear. He listened intently for a moment, then nodded.
“Margaux . . .”
Margaux whipped around. “What,” she demanded.
“You’re canceled,” Glenn said.
Chapter 10
“Hello?” a voice piped up behind Morticia and Gomez. They turned to see Trudy Pickering looking at them nervously. She walked up, along with Mr. Flynn, a couple of dads, and a handful of other neighbors from Eastfield.
“I’m Trudy,” Trudy said, holding her hand out to shake. “We’ve, uh, never officially met.”
Morticia looked at her hand but didn’t shake it. “The ketchup woman,” she said coolly.
Trudy winced. “. . . Right,” she said, lowering her hand again. “Please,” she said. “Just give us a chance to make it right.”
Everyone turned to Morticia. Morticia said nothing. It was a very loud nothing.
Finally, Wednesday took her mother’s hand and squeezed it. “Look,” she said. “I’ve spent time with these people. And it’s true, they are weird. But we shouldn’t judge them just because they’re different.”
Morticia closed her eyes. Years—decades—centuries of persecution weighed down on her. But in the end, they were no match for the open-hearted appeal of her only daughter.
“I accept . . .” Morticia said, and held her hand out to Trudy. When Trudy took it, she discovered that shaking Morticia’s hand was like shaking a dead fish.
“. . . I suppose,” Morticia added. She gave Trudy the tiniest of smiles.
If there was one thing that the residents of Eastfield had in common, it was a love of fleece jackets. If there was a second thing they had in common, it was a passion for home renovation. That very night, the entire town got to work on the project of repairing the Addamses’ house. And the entire Addams and Frump clans pitched in.
By morning, the mansion was whole again. And by the end of the next day, every unoccupied home in Eastfield Estates had a new family in it—a Frump or Addams family.
Epilogue
Eastfield Estates was very different these days. On any given morning, you might see Thing walking Kitty on a leash through the town square. Or Uncle Onion tipping his hat to nearby townspeople. Or a gaggle of Eastfield Estates residents putting together a housewarming gift for a newly moved-in Addams.
All through Eastfield, old-timers mingled with their new Addams and Frump neighbors. Nowhere was there more mingling than in the local coffee shop, Assimilatte. The café was full to bursting every day as townspeople and Addamses gathered to chat, sip overpriced espresso drinks, and watch the world go by.
“One nonfat half-caf half-sweet almond milk mocha latte for Mildew!” Fester cried out. He’d taken a job as the new barista at the café, and he’d never been happier.
Margaux Needler looked around. Nobody else stood up to claim the drink, so she figured that probably meant that “Mildew” was “Margaux.” She worked her way over to the bar and collected the cup.
“Here’s your coffee, Ggerri,” she said, handing the cup up to the horrible little man who had taken up residence in her hair. “Thanks, Mildew,” he said.
Margaux shuddered. “My life . . .” she moaned.
Parker grinned. “Can you blame him, Mom?” she asked. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in your hair, am I right?”
That evening, at the new
ly repaired Addams house, the doorbell rang.
Lurch lumbered over to the front door and opened it.
“You raaaaaang?” he moaned, looking out. There was nobody visible on the porch. But a shadowy rippling wave of air rushed into the house with an angry moan. The poltergeist was back. And as it swept through the house, all the nice new flourishes the townsfolk had added began to rust and drip. Mold appeared in the corners, and spiderwebs wove themselves from the ceilings.
“GETTTTTTTTT OUTTTTTTT!!” the poltergeist shouted. Gomez and Morticia looked up from where they were gathered in the ballroom with some of their extended family.
“Oh, how lovely,” Morticia said. “The spirit’s home.”
“Finally back to normal,” Gomez agreed.
Auntie Sloom cleared her throat impatiently, and everyone turned back to her. She lifted her chin and continued the ceremony.
Pugsley approached Auntie Sloom slowly and solemnly. She placed a shako on his head.
“Pugsley,” she said. “You are an Addams through and through.”
The entire room erupted into cheers. Pugsley grinned, and even Wednesday cracked a smile.
“We did good,” Gomez murmured.
Morticia smiled her unknowable smile. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” she said.
Photo Section
STRANGE LOVE
In search of a new place to call home, newlyweds Morticia and Gomez Addams choose the great state of New Jersey. When they arrive to find a mental institution escapee and an abandoned mansion, they can’t believe their luck.
THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
The Addams Family has grown to include Wednesday and Pugsley.
It’s a full house when Uncle Fester comes to visit. He is here to help Pugsley practice for the Sabre Mazurka, the traditional Addams coming-of-age ceremony.
MEANWHILE . . .
In a town called Eastfield Estates, Margaux Needler is filming her TV show. With the help of her producer, Glenn, and with less help from her daughter, Parker, Margaux teaches the people of Eastfield how to make their homes acceptable to her very high standards.
The Junior Novel Page 8