A/N: This story is based of the orginal 1960s TV show. Though I did enjoy the movies, the TV series hold a special place in my heart. Its just something that couldn't be recreated. This story basically follows the format of the TV show. With that being said, I hope you enjoy :)
It was a gloomy afternoon, and in the Addams Family living room, Morticia could be found trimming her roses.
"These hideous blossoms grow back much too fast," she muttered as she severed each rose head.
Behind her, Gomez clamored into the room, clad in a wet suit and diving mask, snorkel and all. He was pursuing his latest hobby, scuba diving.
"But don't you need an ocean for that, darling?" asked Morticia as she finished trimming. The withering, hacked off stems rested limply in the vase. She smiled at her handiwork.
Gomez pulled the snorkel out his mouth. "All taken care of. I've called the pool company, and they're putting one in the backyard tomorrow."
"How clever of you, mon chéri," crooned Morticia.
"Tish, that's French!" He flopped across the living room quite pathetically in his flippers to ardently kiss his wife's arm. Unfortunately, his scuba diving apparatus hindered this action considerably.
"Blasted mask. Can't kiss my wife or even get a proper smoke. Maybe I should pursue another interest."
"Maybe you're right," agreed Morticia. "Look what happened to dear Cousin Farouk." She motioned to the fish head that was nailed to the wall with poor Cousin Farouk's leg poking out.
"Ah, yes. Cousin Farouk." Gomez pulled the mask off his face and lit a cigar. "I suppose I should cancel the pool installation."
"Why not keep it for the children?" suggested Morticia. "We could get some sharks for it. They'd simply adore it."
"Brilliant idea," praised Gomez, waving his cigar wildly. "We could even order some manta rays to go along with it. Lovely combination."
"What a charming idea, bubeleh," stroking Gomez's face.
"Cara Mia," he whispered, trailing kisses up the length of her arm.
A moment later, the front door swung open.
"I think the children are home," stated Morticia, untangling herself from Gomez's grasp.
Sure enough, Pugsley was ambling across the living room toward his parents.
"Pugsley, dear, where is your sister?" asked Morticia.
"She just ran up to her room. She was upset about something that happened at school. But she wouldn't tell me," answered Pugsley.
"Oh dear," muttered Morticia. "I'd better go see what the matter is."
"Father, can I play with your train set?" asked Pugsley.
"Of course, my dear boy!" exclaimed Gomez. "I'll help you set up the dynamite…Morticia, will you be alright with Wednesday?"
"Of course, darling," Morticia assured him. "Now you two go run along and play with your trains."
Morticia teetered across the length of the room and up the stairs to her daughter's bedroom.
She found Wednesday sulking in her bed, her face buried in her pillow.
"Whatever is the matter, Wednesday, darling?" asked Morticia, sitting down on the edge of Wednesday's bed and reaching to stroke the little girl's long braids.
"Oh it's terrible, Mommy," lamented Wednesday.
"What's so terrible, sweetie?" crooned Morticia, pulling Wednesday into her lap. "Whatever it is, you can tell your mother."
"Tomorrow is pet show and tell day at school," stated Wednesday.
"Whatever is so terrible about that? We have quite a few wonderful pets you could bring to school."
"That's not what the problem is," said Wednesday. "It's what George said."
"And what was that, darling?" urged Morticia, continuing to stroke Wednesday's braids.
"He said that his dog, Fido, is much better than a spider. There is no pet that could be better than Homer."
"Of course not, dear. The poor boy has probably never had a proper pet spider. Why don't you bring Homer into class tomorrow and show George how perfectly delightful he is?"
"But that's the thing. Ms. Wheeler heard me fighting with George about it and said that I was absolutely not allowed to bring a spider to school. Or anything else creepy and crawly for that matter. She said to only bring dogs, and cats, and bunnies, and hamsters, but just if they're well trained."
"Oh dear," muttered Morticia. "That rules out Pugsley's octopus as well….wait. What about Kitty Cat? He's so sweet, and I've never seen such a well behaved lion."
"All right," said Wednesday, her face lighting up. "Kitty Cat is sure to be better than George's old dog."
"Now you three be good at school today," said Morticia, kissing Wednesday, Pugsley, and Kitty Cat on the head.
"Don't worry, Mother," Pugsley assured her. "I remember pet show and tell day in first grade. I brought my octopus."
"Oh yes," mused Morticia. "I remember. Wasn't that the year when they banned sea creatures for pet show and tell day?"
"It was only because Sally thought he was strangling her. Aristotle was only trying to play," explained Pugsley.
"Oh course, darling," said Morticia. "The poor dear never really got over that, did she?"
"Come on, Kitty Cat," said Wednesday, pulling at his leash. The two children plus the lion headed out the front door.
"Do you think they'll be alright?" Morticia turned to face Gomez.
"Of course. Who can protect the children better than Kitty Cat?" he replied, puffing away at yet another cigar.
"Well, I was more worried about Kitty Cat, actually. It's been such a while since he's left the house," said Morticia, looking glumly out the window as her children and the pet lion disappeared down the street.
"Well in that case, the children will protect Kitty Cat," Gomez answered. "Pugsley always keeps that dagger Uncle Fester got for him for his last birthday in his back pocket, and Wednesday can ruff up a person twice her size. Do you remember the black eye she gave that unfortunate boy a few weeks ago?"
"Oh yes," Morticia smiled. "Kitty Cat is in good hands."
Uncle Fester appeared in the living room a moment later. "The children are taking Kitty Cat to school?"
"Yes, Uncle Fester," Morticia told him. "Is there something the matter with that?"
"Well, it's only going to make all the other children jealous. They're all going to want a pet lion, and you know how hard they are to get."
"Yes," Morticia said. "I remember when you got me Kitty Cat. He was my sixteenth birthday present. You captured him when he was just a cub when you went on your Safari to Africa."
"I was lion hunting and I shot his mother and the poor little thing followed me all the way back to my hut. I just couldn't leave him," remembered Uncle Fester.
"That's our Uncle Fester. Always so sweet and sensitive." Morticia patted him gently on his bald head as they headed back into the living room.
"Who's up for a game of ping-pong?" Gomez asked, pulling yet another cigar from the belt of the Indian statue.
"I didn't know we had a ping-pong table, darling," said Morticia.
"We didn't. It just got delivered this morning."
"How lovely!" exclaimed Morticia. "Let's do play at once!"
"I'll referee!" offered Uncle Fester.
"Querida, you serve first." Gomez tossed Morticia the ball.
"I'm a bit out of practice…" Morticia admitted, taking the paddle and swinging wildly at the small ball.
It flew into the air, hit off the horn Pierre the moose head, bounced off one of the tortoise's heads, skimmed Cousin Farouk's shoe, and landed in Uncle Fester's mouth, causing him to fall to the ground
"Fabulous hit, cara mia," exclaimed Gomez. "Couldn't have done it better myself."
"Uncle Fester, dear." Morticia peered down at her fallen Uncle. "Could we have the ball back?"
He sat up, coughing at bit. "I think I swallowed it."
"What a shame," said Mortica. "Darling, did another one come with the set?"
"I'm afraid not. No wonder it was so cheap. I'll have to order some more."
They were forced to abandon their game, so Morticia tottered over to her peacock chair and picked up her knitting (a sweater with three arms for Cousin Imar).
Gomez lit himself yet another cigar and pulled himself into a headstand so he could read last week's paper.
"Morticia, you've been quiet. Is everything all right?" Gomez asked.
"I'm just worried about dear Kitty Cat. I do hope Wednesday packed him enough yak's meat for his lunch…" she fretted.
"Cara mia, you worry too much," answered Gomez, up righting himself.
"I hope you're right, mon amour," sighed Morticia.
"Tish! You know what your French does to me!"
Gomez was at her side in one stride; he fervently began to kiss her neck.
"Now, Gomez, the children will be home any moment now. Them first, us later," she promised.
As if on cue, the children barreled through the front door. Kitty Cat bounded across the room and tackled Morticia to the ground.
"Darling Kitty Cat," she crooned. "I missed you as well."
She pulled herself up, only to find a very morose Wednesday standing before her.
"Whatever is the matter Wednesday? Didn't the children like Kitty Cat?" Morticia wrapped her arms around the small girl.
"No. They were all frightened of him," sniffled Wednesday. "I don't know why."
"What about your little friend, George? What did he have to say? Surely Kitty Cat is better than that little dog of his."
"Yes, Kitty Cat is better. Kitty Cat proved that to George."
"Oh. How so?"
"Kitty Cat ate Fido," she stated simply.
"Oh dear," murmured Morticia. "Well, it's survival of the fittest, I suppose."
"I just feel sad because I'd be upset if someone ate Homer," Wednesday said, tears edging her voice.
"I suppose you're right. You know what might cheer him up?" suggested Morticia.
"What's that, Mommy?" Wednesday wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"You should send that poor little boy one of your other spiders. A spider is far better than a dog."
"Thank you, Mommy. I know just the perfect one for George. Persephone, my tarantula."
"How sweet of you Wednesday, dear," Morticia smiled. "Now run along and wrap her up. I'll find his address."
"Okay, Mommy. Wait—Ms. Wheeler said to give this to you." Wednesday handed her mother a piece of paper.
"What does it say?" Gomez peered over her shoulder to read the note. "Pet show and tell day has been cancelled? Permanently?"
"It appears that way," said Morticia.
"That's too bad," muttered Gomez. "I wonder why…"
"It think it might have to do with the fact Kitty Cat ate the poor boy's dog," Morticia explained.
"That's all it takes to cancel it? It was for the boy's own good if you ask me," Gomez exasperated. "I would've gladly fed my dog to Kitty Cat to get rid of it. Dreadful pets. Never quite understood why people like them so much."
"Yes, Wednesday's run upstairs to get a spider for him to mail him as an apology. He'll be much happier now," Morticia smiled.
"Much, much happier," agreed Gomez. "Now, we've wasted enough of this gloomy day. What do you say we go for a stroll in the swamp?"
"What a lovely idea, mon chéri."
"Tish—" his lips found her hand.
"Later, Gomez," she placed her fingers gently to his mouth. "The swamp awaits us."