The Addams Family, Matchmaker Friends, blood
It was one of those nights you knew something awful was about to happen and couldn’t be more excited to find out what. On this particular night, however, it was quite obvious – though not to all involved – that the awful thing in question would be the imminent date of one Constantine Whiskers with Priscilla Addams, a cousin, beloved family member, and mortal enemy of the person whose eyes were now glaring in the ritual candlelight, from behind the bushes, besides the ancient tombstones, Morticia Addams herself.
“Priscilla, dear,” she spoke reaching her arms out to her kin. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit out of place to do this?” Priscilla gazed at her from above Mr Whiskers’ neck, her teeth thrust into his delicate skin. Mr Whiskers didn’t look much as if the date was going the way he planned it to, grasping for air and throwing his arms in a desperate cry for help, he spilt even more blood from ritual cuts Priscilla inflicted on him than he would have if he were still. Morticia continued, “After all, it’s only your second date.”
“Oh, you know me, Morticia.” Mr Whiskers’ fluids spluttered from the punctures when Priscilla drew back. He moaned in pain, and Morticial felt herself grow hot at the sound. Gomez, too, used to moan like that, but now it became increasingly more difficult to displease and hurt him enough. Priscilla added, “I know when it’s it. Besides, what’s the point of wasting time if he’s not strong enough to go through the process?”
Morticia did understand, of course. After all, their female lineage was all about female empowerment and the corruption of men. She looked at Mr Whiskers once more, and a speck of a smile ran through her lips. “You have my full support, dear one. But bury him in that one, a little bit to the right.” She pointed at a grave hole. “The left one is for a bully at Wednesday’s school. It’s a bit tighter.”