Author: Kat Lee
Fandoms: The Addams Family/Disney/Aristocats
Character/Pairing: OFC, Morticia
Word Count: 1,360
Date Written: 4 October 2017
Disclaimer: All characters except for Dora belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission. Dora and the rest belong to yours truly.
The young girl looks through an intent, calm gaze as children her age, younger, and older run and scream from the haunted house in fright. Her parents wouldn’t bring her trick or treating, so she’s brought herself, slipping out, when as always, they were busy doing other things than paying attention to her. She slipped out and has brought herself all this way. One house isn’t going to scare her away, especially when she’s seen the maternal figure of the house at school with her two little outcasts, children who, the girl knows, would be as outcast as she would be if she didn’t wear the clothes her mother chooses for her every morning or have the parents she does, parents to whom the whole school wants to snuggle closer up to.
These people are simply misunderstood, she knows, and they misunderstand a lot of things themselves. Another batch of trick or treats runs pass her, screaming this time both from pain and terror. Green slime covers them, and in some places their skin actually boils. Still, the girl doesn’t deter. She walks right up to the old, haunted house and rings the bell.
She hears the shriek and ghastly moan it emits but doesn’t back down even when the mother of the house herself opens the door. She’s a long, cool woman in a black dress and looks genuinely pleased to see her. “Oh, what a lovely costume!” she croons. “A Witch is a wonderful thing to want to be and a well respected tradition!”
“I know,” the girl smiles and steps inside just in time to miss the vat of boiling acid that melts the doormat on which she’d just been standing. “Missus Addams, I’d glad to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, dear. Do I know you?”
“I go to school with Pugsley and Wednesday.”
“Oh, how nice! I’ll call them right down.”
“But it’s you I want to talk to.”
“It is? Whatever for?”
“The boiling acid needs to stop.”
“I wondered why you missed your dose, dear. Why do you not like it?”
“I understand that boiling acid may be considered a good thing to some,” the girl replies, “to people who are . . . different like us, but that’s why you’re getting ever fewer trick or treaters and why so many people run right past your house every Halloween in fright.”
“Well, they do tend to run pass us at other times too, but I believe you may be right. But if they don’t want acid, what do they want? Lurch!” she calls suddenly. “Oh. I forgot. He’s helping Scat with the piano. Thing!”
A severed hand scampers up to the mistress and jumps up and down as though eagerly wishing to be of help. “Won’t you go gather some things that could be possible treats for the trick or treaters? This young lady has brought to my attention that not everyone is pleased with the acid, although for the unlife of me, I can not imagine why.”
“The answer is simple, Missus Addams,” the girl speaks up again, “they are different from you and I. They like different things, but they can be easy to please. Why, I imagine they’d be just fine with candy -- “
“You mean like toffee spiders, caramel laced cobwebs, chocolate warts, and raspberry bat wing cookies?”
The girl frowns as she studies the older woman. She can not imagine her harming a bat or, for that matter, the spiders who decorate her home with such lovely, sparkling cobwebs. “Perhaps something a little more . . . traditional,” she suggests.
“Like eye of newt punch or doggy breath lollipops?”
The girl opens her mouth and shuts it again almost as quickly. “Perhaps toys instead,” she offers. Just then, Thing comes running up, dragging a bag with him that he holds between his thumb and forefinger. Springing up on his thumbpad, the hand waves his four free fingers at Missus Addams and the young trick or treater.
“He’s found something,” Morticia croons, her dark eyes lighting with anticipation. “Let’s have a look, Thing,” she says encouragingly.
Thing opens the bag and spreads its contents out on the floor. “The latest cell phones!” the girl exclaims in surprise, picking up one.
“Gomez is always receiving samples of all sorts of technology items from people wishing for him to invest in their products, but we never have liked the idea of carrying a phone with us wherever we go. Why, it’s so distasteful to have one of those shrill things cry out in public!”
The girl grins. “It’s not something I would want, either, but these will go over with the other trick or treaters better than fifty dollar bills would be!”
Morticia blinks in surprise. “You mean the trick or treaters would be satisfied with mere money?!”
“Of course.” The girl actually smirks this time. “This is America. Money always works.”
Morticia shakes her head in stunned disbelief. “We certainly do have so much to learn about your customs here. Thank you.”
They look up as the doorbell shrieks again. “GOMEZ, DARLING -- “ Morticia starts to call up the long, winding staircase but is drowned out by cries of children yet again. The girl opens the door just as the other children once again run away.
Morticia sighs. “I must speak with my husband. We must stop this acid treatment as once as it is not desired by the little ghouls and goblins who are so excited to share their wonderful costumes with once!” She pauses and looks at the child who has helped her so much this All Hallow’s Eve. “But you said you would not wish for one?”
She shakes her dark head. “No. I don’t like cell phones either, but they’re very popular with the other kids,” she assures her.
“Why, I must give you something, my dear, for being so wonderfully helpful tonight -- Perhaps you would like to play with Pugsley and Wednesday?”
Before the girl can answer her, the musical instruments that have been playing the entire time the two have been talking suddenly seem to grow closer and louder. She looks up and watches with wide, astonished eyes as a band of cats dances through the parlor, each playing an instrument as he goes. One of the guitar players is an actual lion who roars as he sings. Taking up the rear end of the procession is a hulking Zombie pushing a piano and groaning in time to the music and a Siamese cat banging the white keys with chopsticks.
“Wow!!! That’s what I’d like, Missus Addams, if I may!”
“What is that, dear?”
“To join them!” she cries, pointing at the cats, Kitty, and Lurch. Thing scampers across the floor, sails through the air, and dives onto the piano keys, setting off an abrupt piano solo. “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“It was very nice of Thomas O’Malley, Scat Cat, and their gang to pay a visit to Kitty on tonight, of all very special nights, and Kitty has had his shots and a full meal. I suppose I see no harm in it. But what is your name, dear girl? You never said.”
“I’m sorry. My name’s Pandora. Most people call me Dora, but I prefer Pandora.”
“Of course you would! And you have certainly gifted us on this hallowed night, Pandora! Please feel free to join the party!” Morticia makes a sweeping bow, and Pandora, grinning, runs off to join the cats.
When she doesn’t show for school the next morning, the other kids think nothing of it. When her parents discover her missing, they believe she’s simply ran away and joined some cult -- after all, they were always catching her with some kind of evil book or movie, often about Witchcraft or Demons. But there were a few children that Halloween night who saw her go into the Addams’ Family house. They say she never came back out, and if you listen closely on stormy nights, dark nights, and especially on Halloween nights, you can still hear cats mewing in rhythm, a lion roaring, and a girl screeching along with them, all free spirits of the night.