In the Absence of Color

Goody: *staring at Wednesday in eerie silence*

Wednesday: Goody.

Goody:

Goody: You’re the Idiot in my bloodline.

Wednesday: Pardon?

“Hi.”

Wednesday: *startles out of the vision to find Enid anxiously slinking back into their room*

Enid: Sorry, I can’t seem to find my obvious excuse spare rainbow socks. Have you seen them? And are you eating? I brought you burnt toast and some coffee. And also this pretty dead flower that reminded of your eyes.

Wednesday/Enid: 😒 🫢

Enid: W-Wait, I meant it reminded me of how I feel about you. Er, I mean of how you make me feel. Uh, I mean of how you make me so angry that I could just k— Ugh!

Enid: Just, um. Nevermind.

Wednesday: 🤨❓

Enid: Duh, I know that.

Yoko: Then WHY?

Enid: I just asked myself “WWWD” — What would Wednesday do?

Yoko: Girl, that was NOT your best idea.

Enid: *looks from the knife in her hand to the boy bleeding out on the floor*

Enid: Yeah, you’re right. I’m seeing that now.

Yoko: Thank f—

Enid: I could’ve just used my claws.

Enid: *doodling in her notebook* Yeah? Weird.

Wednesday: The compliment is acceptable, though I find it highly unlikely that such an accrediting body exists.

Bianca: *chimes in* Addams, they didn’t call you a certified snake, they called you a certified snack.

Wednesday: That makes even less—

*CRACK!*

Bianca/Wednesday: 😒😒

Enid: *holding half a pencil*

Enid: *calmly* Who?

Bianca: *playfully* Who what?

Enid: *less calmly* Who called my Wends that? I want their name.

Bianca: Aw, are you feeling a little territor—

Enid: Bitch, shut the actual F up and give me their name, or else I will freaking fillet your bald fishy ass and wear your skin like it’s the Met Gala.

Bianca: This is it, girls. You ready?

Yoko: 😈👍

Divina: 😈👍

Bianca: Perfect. Now remember, once War and Peace get to the Rave’n, we eliminate their dates, initiate operation Make Wenclair Happen, and their heterosexuality will finally be—

Bianca/Yoko/Divina: *in unison*

“You look uncomfortable.”

Wednesday: Thing, slow down. I can’t understand you when you stutter.

Thing: *pauses and tries again*

Wednesday:

Wednesday: Mother had a vision? Was it so important that it required interrupting my investigation?

Thing: 💅 -> 🫵

Wednesday: The vision was of Enid and myself?

Thing: 👍 -> 🫵 ->✌️

Wednesday: I, then two words. Go on.

Thing: 🫰 -> 💅

Wednesday:

Wednesday: *menacingly* Thing, if you enjoy your nails still attached, you will tread carefully.

Thing: *quails and shakily gestures*

Wednesday: *stiffens* What does my mother plan to do?

Thing: 🖐️

Wednesday: Five words. *sharply* Out with them.

Thing: 🤙 -> 💅 -> 🫵 -> 🫰 -> 💅

Wednesday: *goes pale*

Wednesday:

Wednesday: *strangled* How much time until she calls her?

Thing: 🤏

Wednesday:

Wednesday: This stalker is both exceedingly stubborn and surprisingly cunning.

Enid: Wednesday.

Wednesday: Their voicemails obviously contain a coded message or threat, which I must deciph—

Enid: Wednesday!

Wednesday: *looks up* Yes? Have you sniffed out a clue?

Enid: Babe, you don’t have a stalker. Those aren’t coded threats.

Wednesday: How could they not be? They’ve been doggedly persistent, leaving countless such messages with no regards for the hour, and as I must point out—

Wednesday: —not a single of my family’s vehicles have been under warranty since the last century, let alone one with an expanded duration. What else could…

Wednesday: 😐

Wednesday: Enid, why are you laughing? We must discover what the stalker means by “extended warranty” before they succeed in reaching me.

Wednesday: 🤨

Wednesday: I understand you must be worried for my safety, but this is no time to be rolling on the floor in hysterics. Enid. ENID.

Enid: Wh-What? I’m not gay! Your face is gay!

Wednesday: Obviously, as it’s part of a greater homosexual whole.

Enid:

Enid: Wait. You like girls?

Wednesday: If by “girls” you mean closeted idiots with all the fashion sense of a Pride parade, the heart of a Disney heroine, and the loathsome habit of saying “oh-em-gee” unironically—

Wednesday: —then the answer is, with little regard for rhyme nor reason, yes.

Enid:

Enid: Wanna get coffee?

Wednesday: Would my younger self, upon seeing the besotted wretch that I’ve become, die in unmitigated shame?

Enid:

Enid: Is that a—