The Addums Family

The Addams Family was a group of fictional characters created by American cartoonist Charles Addams. His family characters included Gomez, Morticia, Uncle Fester, Lurch, Grandmama, Wednesday, Pugsley, Cousin It, and Thing. On TV in the 50s they were a satirical inversion of the ideal American family; an eccentric, wealthy clan who delighted in the macabre and were unaware that people found them bizarre or frightening. The following spoofs what was essentially a spoof anyway, but a `send up` can be an affectionate homage. Addams died in 1988 and so, as a `send up`, it`s hopefully `postage paid`.

 

 

The Addums Family

 

'You can put it away now Uncle Flasher.'

 

 'Well, if you've finished 'reading' Gooeymess, I would like to recharge my batteries.'

 

 Raising a clammy white paw to dead-blue lips, the dome-headed blubber-ball unscrews a now-dim bulb of sickly-green phosphorescent light.

 

 'Ah, and zip-up old fellow! A single glimpse of your swollen manhood is enough to make a carnivorous Brazilian fuschia vomit.'

 

 Putting aside a much-thumbed copy of  Ghoulie magazine, the master of the house scurries away to change his pants.

 

 

 'Oh, and..,' he pauses at the dismal foot of an ever-dark staircase, '...don't spare the juice old man. Plug yourself into the mains and take a nap.'

 

 'Thanks, I will. As the inventor of that 'Gobbling Ghoulie' - '

 

 'The delights of which I've so recently sampled.'

 

 ' - I don't mind being used to power it, but I still think it's taking advantage to make me provide a cheap source of bedtime light too. Why can't you take a torch to bed and fiddle about with yourself under the sheets like Pigugly?'

 

 'Ha! The little tyke's putting aside Childhood's playthings in order to savour the sweet balm of maturity is he?'

 

 'Judging by the size of it, he's quite capable of sucking it down like ice-cream.'

 

 'Well, at least Wednesday's still the sweet adorable cherub we all know and love. Remember how she looked when I gave her that African python last Hallowe'een? The sheer joy and delight on her face when she fed it that collection of bird-eating spiders I'd imported for her on Mexico's 'Day of the Dead'! Ah, the sight was enough to bring tears to a proud father's eyes.'

 

 

 'Remember the name they gave her when she started College? 'Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday' was too big a mouthful, so the kids shortened it to 'Everyday - and Any Body'. Soon they knew enough to change it to 'Anytime Anyplace Anywhere Anything', which served  the dual purpose of signposting her as a coke-addicted whore. In short, her eyes lit up when she saw the python for the simple reason that she'd never had a snake that big.'

 

 

 'How could she? My little girl never had a snake till I gave her one.'

 

 'Well, and that's something else we need to talk about -'

 

 'Duuuunnnngggggg!'

 

'Not now Flasher. Unless my ears deceive me, that's Large sounding the gong for dinner.'

 

 'Sounds to me like dung again. How much longer do we have to stick to this coprophile 'health' diet?'

 

 'Morticia swears by it.'

 

 'Fuck! Cunt!'

 

 'See?'

 

 'Shit! Merde!'

 

 'Ah! Tush! You know how it drives me wild  when you speak French. Let me roll up your sleeve and suck on your arm.'

 

 'Why don't you roll up your sleeve and let me sit on yours?'

 

 'What for cherie?'

 

 'Oh, I give up. C'mere Large.'

 

 'Uuunnnhhh!'

 

 'Feels nice?'

 

 'Uuunnnhhh!'

 

 

 'Hey, watch where you're squirting Thing, Large!'

 

 'Uuunnnhhh!'

 

 'Don't you mean 'that Large thing', darling Gooeymess?'

 

'Oh, my mistake Tush. Thing's still in his box is he?'

 

 'Well, he's in my box.'

 

 'Tish and pish Tush. Why didn't you say you wanted a hand job?'

 

 'I did. Anyway, boxing is Thing One's department. I've got Thing Two in me.'

 

 'Ah, you mean the real Thing!'

 

 'No, I've got that up my nose.'

 

 'Nose-fucking! Isn't that Cousin Tit's thing?'

 

 'No dear. Cousin Tit fucks with his nose.'

 

 'Ah, whereas you savour the delights of being shafted in the nose. Both nostrils simulataneously - or is that alternately? Hmm?'

 

 'You're not listening Gooeymess. Let me spell it out for you. Wednesday is upstairs 'playing' with Thing One, which roughly translates as 'he's fisting my cherubic little arse'. I, on the other hand (that's got to be a pun - ed.), am employing Thing Two for the purpose which nature intended - as a dildo.'

 

 'And the nose-bonking?'

 

 'Dr Soos was kind enough to prescribe cocaine-snorting for my condition.'

 

 'Which is?'

 

 'Nymphomania.'

 

 'The Cat in the Hat Strikes Back, eh? The  dog!'

 

 'How did you know? The good doctor doesn't wear a thing when he's 'treating' me - except his hat!'

 

 'The villain! Has he never heard the word 'condom'?'

 

 'Oh, he doesn't wear the hat on his head dear.'

 

 'And what sort of hat do you wear cherie, a French chat mayhap?'

 

 'Oh darling, you'd make a wonderful divorce detective.'

 

 'Like that dick Prick Tracy you mean?'

 

 'Not really. More like that less-than-impressive Knob Sharon. Do you think you could do something about our gushing geezer? It's getting rather difficult to both swallow and talk at the same time.'

 

 'Here, let me redirect the flow. Mmmm,  I'll say this for the syrupy-spray still-erupting from Large's unruly organ - it beats Tush all ends up in the culinary department.'

 

'That's not what you said last night in bed when, tongue probing the cave where Love Lives, your definitive statemement on the subject was, I believe, 'Slubglub!' But the phrase that most readily serves the case for the defence has to be the oft-repeated 'Mort Tush! Mort! Mort!''

 

 

 'Enough of this cheery banter. I think I'll go and check on the children. Let's hope they're not playing that confounded 'Doctor Jekyll and Nursey Hide' game again.'

 

 'Oh, don't be such a stuffed shirt Gooeymess. It's quite normal for youngsters to be curious about what's going on inside them. It just indicates a healthy curiosity about where they've come from and where they'd like to be next.'

 

 'Yes, but when Pigugly starts to show me what he's got inside himself, I think it's time to call a halt to this insanity.'

 

 'He just wants you to be proud of him dear.'

 

 'How can I? First he gets his sister to lop off his wedding tackle with a scalpel. Next he displays it in a pickle jar on top of my mantlepiece.Then he offers it to Uncle Flasher as an hors d'oeuvre. Thank heavens for a Doktor in the family! Of course, it's a pity that cousin Frankenfurter's pioneering weenie-transplant technique failed with human anatomy. However, although 'all the nice girls love a sailor', a man with a horse's cock does attract bad ones like flies on shit.'

 

 'And you should know darling.'

 

 'That's very flattering my love. However, as you well know, I owe my prowess to monkey glands.'

 

 'Yes, your own.'

 

 'Quite so. It would, therefore, be misleading to suggest that I'm hung like Black Beauty.'

 

 'Oh, I don't know. Wasn't Black Beauty a gelding?'

 

 'I fail to see your point.'

 

 'Well, at least you attract horse-flies darling.'

 

 'Touché my sweet. God, how I love it when I speak French!'

 

 

 Fumbling at his zipper with one hand (while swatting at that ever-present cloud of the airborne variety of fly with the other), Gooeymess drags his rotting-yet-still-inhabited-corpse away from the table. Pausing only to extricate Flasher's most extreme extremity from between the razor-sharp teeth of his newly-patented sex-toy, our hero snatches up the Gobbling Ghoulie and heads for what, thanks to his Transylvanian accent, is correctly described by cousin Drac Addums as 'zee Mastur Bateroom'.

 

 'By the Bloated-Blue Bollocks of Beelzebub, I thought he'd never go! And by the Gangrene Green Gonads of Gascoigne, I wish Large would stop coming!'

 

 'Think of it as the icing on the cake - which I get to lick off.'

 

 'Ah, dear Flasher. Always the gentleman. If you're fully turned-on now, perhaps you'd like to come and plug yourself into my socket? Come, don't be shy. Wouldn't you like to shock me with your electric eel? Hmmm?'

 

 'But what about Gooeymess?'

 

 'Well, if you don't want to lick it off, I suppose we can rub it in. Grandma says it does wonders for her bad skin.'

 

 'Leprosy?'

 

 'Yes, but it was only a mild case of eczema before she discovered the beautifying properties of spermatazoa.'

 

 'I must say she looks radiant these days.'

 

 'That'll be the radiation treatment she's getting for the cancerous growth on the side of her neck.'

 

 'Successful?'

 

 'Not yet. The second head she's hoping to grow there hasn't yet materialized. Something to do with wanting to double her employment prospects.'

 

 'Cocksucking?'

 

 'Oh, alright. But wear a rubber. The last time you didn't use any insulation I ended up feeling like Jimi Hendrix with his wires crossed - I often wondered how those tacky 1970s perms originated.'

 

 'I thought you wanted a make-over.'

 

 'I do. But I want it glam - I'd invite Mr & Mrs Rat to build their nest in there - instead of which I get a permanent frizz thanks to that jolt of electricity you call orgasmic.'

 

 'Fellatio's not really my bag anyway. I was referring to your mother.'

 

 'Eh?'

 

 'Your mother the cocksucker.'

 

 'Oh yeah?! Motherfucker!'

 

 'Well, yes. Yours actually. She does give good head too. I can't wait ill she gets that extra pair of lips though. It'll be fun to have her talk dirty and suck at the same time. On the other hand, wasn't cocksucking invented to stop women talking? She could be committing economic suicide. Perhaps she's growing an extra head to torture me. But that's horrific - I mean terrific! What a gal! What a pal! I take it all back.Your mother's not only a cocksucker. She's a saint!'

 

 'And you, dear sweet Flasher, are a whore's bastard.'

 

 'Gee! That's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me - or my mother. But, erm...how did you know?'

 

 'Uuuunnnnhhhhffffwwwaaaagggghhhhmmmmnnnoooohhhhhh!'

 

 'Sorry, I didn't quite catch that.'

 

 'I think it's nature's way of drawing attention to the fact that Large is about to start squirtng jism down the front of your dress.'

 

 'Do you like it?'

 

 'The pearl necklace? Only if it tastes as good as it looks. Can I commence licking?'

 

 'No, I think I'll display it at the Grand Ball. It matches my barbed-wire nipple-rings.'

 

 'Another present?'

 

'Cousin Sadie gave them to me for her birthday - along with that home-circumcision kit.'

 

 'I remember. We thought it strange at first. Why should you get the presents? After all, it wasn't Walpürgisnacht. Then she insisted on doing the nipple-piercing herself - and everything became painfully clear. Nice dungeon she's got. Though I still think it was a mean trick to say that, because it was a do-it-yourself-at-home-kit, she should be the one to get circumcised.'

 

 'Poor Flasher. And you'd been so looking forward to it.'

 

 'She's not even Jewish.'

 

 'Well, neither are you.'

 

 'Maybe not. But I have a greater capacity for suffering.'

 

 'I don't know why you're complaining. I was the one who had to do the circumcising. I thought the bleeding would never stop. Thank heavens for cousin Drac!'

 'That blood-sucking leech! He still owes me the price of a pint.'

 

 'I thought you'd signed the pledge.'

 

 'Haven't we all? You don't need a pint of blood to sign away your soul to Mephistopheles. Remember that vampire bat I tried to tame? It cost an arm and a leg to feed - mine. Turns out it was him all the time.'

 

 'I always thought he was a bit batty. Anyway, Sadie never complains. She's very pale of course. But everyone says they're perfect for each other, a 'marriage made in Hull.'

 

 'I heard they had to get married.'

 

 'I heard she gave birth to a monster.'

 

 'I love a story with a happy ending. What're they going to call it?'

 

 'He's a stickler for tradition and wants to call it 'Rover' after his great-grandfather (apparently he was mad - quite barking). She, on the other hand, wants to call it 'Satan' after hers. I suggested 'Cerberus' as being more appropriate.'

 

 'The three-headed dog of Greek mythology? Now that's what I call a monster! Well, at least Grandma'll have someone to talk to.'

 

 'That reminds me. I must see Gooeymess about the Great Ball.'

 

 'Okay, I'll come and join you later.'

 

 'Shouldn't that be the other way round?'

 

 'Well, I promised Thing I'd let him give me a hand.'

 

 'What with?'

 

 'This.'

 

 'Well, it certainly deserves a big hand. Loud cheers too.'

 

 

 Let's leave Flasher holding the tool of his choice and follow our heroine as she mounts the stairs in search of Gooeymess. Unfortunately, while pausing to fondle the velvet-encased testicles of Kitty Kat (a golden-maned African ex-patriate previously known to the Fukeneethingg tribe as 'death-in-a-bad-Farrah-Fawcett-wig), she is in turn mounted. Fortunately, the would be feline-fuckster is unable to work out the hideously complicated fastenings of its mistress' mink bondage trousers (fortunate that - ed.) These, true to the wordsof the t.v. advertiser, 'lift and separate' the cheeks of its wearer's arse to an extraordinarily provocative degree, but the poor pussy is out of luck - and Kitty Kat, frustratedly forced into fetishistically fucking a furry-clad limb, is pretty pissed off about it too.

 

 'Mmmiiiiaaaoooowwwwwrrrrggggghhhh!'

 

 The lady of the house decides to 'grin and bare it', a tactic which serves only to further stiffen the resolve of her would-be lover and, shortly, oily yellow gobs of big-cat semen are dripping down her horripilacious leg to form small iridescent pools of lust about her twelve tiny toes.

 

 'Magnificent my dear! And I always thought you were a dead arse.'

 

                                                                                                            *

 

 Thinking herself exposed (perceptive creature isn't she - ed.) Tush redoubles her efforts and, soon, pussy is exhausted. Kitty Kat -like the proverbial parrot after a long squawk - is also fairly tired and shagged out, which means that the quest for Gooeymess can continue (hasn't she found it yet then? - ed.) So where is the owner of that voice? Tush, after carefully negotiating the hazards posed by the slippery spots of secretly squiggling sperm, follows a hunch. Unfortunately, after unerringly leading her to the room which contains the marital coffin, the hunch demands a finder's fee. Tush, vowing henceforth to forever forswear the company of gnomes with deformities, is forced to spend an age probing a tiny rectum with her pinkie before its owner finally condescends to ejaculate into her ear.

 

 'Superb my darling! And they say rigor mortis doesn't have its uses! I don't know anyone else who could hold a position like that for three years.'

 Hearing the dulcet tones of her beloved husband, Tush throws wide the door to expose a gross tableau of impossible angles and mangled sex parts. Gooeymess, eyes blazing with unholy green fire, meets the gaze of his wife who, fangs fully unsheathed, looks like she's in danger of giving herself a tracheotomy.

 

 'Welcome to the Great Ball cherie.'

 

 'Thank you dear. I'm so glad Necrophilia could come.'

 

 'Your sister? I'm not sure she's capable of that, but wasn't it nice of Large to bring her up from the vaults? I never knew she was so much fun!'

 

 'Oh yes. She sees more  balls now than before her accident with the sink plunger and the Unicorn. Cousin Frankenfurter's always having her up at his castle.'

 'I thought he was impotent.'

 

 'Oh, yes, he's a very impotent person, but Igor isn't.'

 

 'You mean the butler does it?'

 

 'Did it. Frankie found out and transplant surgery suddenly had a new spare-part donor - only it wasn't.'

 

 'Wasn't what?'

 

 'Spare. Igor's understandably upset, but Necrophilia doesn't seem to notice the difference. She was always a cool one. A bit fresh though.'

 

 'Fresh from the mortuary slab, like ice. From her point of view, there isn't any difference to notice - not in the part that matters anyway. But you're right. She's certainly adept at keeping her emotions under control. I've been porking her on and off for eighteen months now, and I still haven't succeeded in attracting her attention.'

 

 'She's always had a limited attention span. D'you remember Blackie Creature?'

 

 'Of the Lagoon Creatures? Of course! An old and distinguished family. Devilishly handsome wasn't he?'

 

 'He drove Philly to distraction with his chrome-plated scales, webbed winkle-pickers,and duck-tail quiff of slicked back slime. The boys would pork her while she swooned. I don't think she even blinked. Eventually Blackie caught on. Walking up to my sister helped pay his way through college.'

 

 'What does he do now?'

 

 'He's on Wall-eyed Street.'

 

 'Still helping the boys shaft the rest of us eh? But that reminds me. I must ring my broker.'

 

 'Another investment?'

 

 'Pork futures.'

 

'There's no future in pork if you're a pig.'

 

'Yes, but even if you aren't a male chauvinist, there's still a big future in porking. Which is why I'm investing in a year's subscription to Eat My Pork magazine.

 Unzip and let me at  it.'

 

 'Say something else Tush. You know how it drives me wild when you do French.'

 

 'Slubglub!'