In the Absence of Color

Wednesday: Enid, listen to me. I have no sense of smell. I haven’t since last semester.

Enid: *sniffles* Wh-What?

Wednesday: I lost it in an incident involving aerosolized formaldehyde. I’ve been relying on Thing to identify scents until my olfactory receptors regenerate.

Enid:

Enid: S-So my pheromones…?

Wednesday: Your pheromones have had absolutely no effect on me.

Enid: Then that means…

Wednesday: That my feelings for you are entirely unadulterated. It is a cruel and perplexing fact that even without the influence of pheromones, alchemy, or black magic—

Wednesday: —I’ve somehow fallen in love with a pansexual disaster who insist that the revolting marshmallows in her breakfast cereal are a priceless delicacy—

Wednesday: —and is capable of transforming into a nine-foot-tall arachnophobic security blanket with the unfortunate habit of licking her own paws until they smell of corn chips.

Enid: 🥺

Wednesday: 😒

Enid: 👉🥺👈

Wednesday: 🙄

Wednesday: TL;DR, I blew up my nose so I love you “for realsies”.

Wednesday: My eye can wait. Ensuring this elder vampire does not arise again is more important.

Enid: For reals? Wednesday, you removed all the dude’s teeth, force-fed him a whole crapola of sacramental garlic bread, holy waterboarded him for over an hour—

Enid: —impaled his heart with 13 stakes carved from a blessed aspen tree by an immortal outcast who helped found Christianity—

Enid: —and then chopped his head off and freaking SET HIM ON FIRE.

Wednesday: 😒

Was a vampire: 🔥💀🔥

Enid: 😤

Enid: Is this just because you wanna look like Caitlyn Kiramman?

Wednesday:

Wednesday: No.

Enid: *air jails Wednesday* Off we go, Cupcake. You can wear an eyepatch without losing an eye.

Wednesday: It’s over. My stalker is in custody, that misbegotten zombie is back in his grave, Nevermore is once again without a principal—

Wednesday: —and with exception of that insufferable song Enid insists on singing, we shall never again speak of Bruno.

Wednesday: *deeply satisfied sigh*

Wednesday: Enid is finally safe. She has not died because of me. Victory is mine.

Thing: 👍

Enid: Wends, there’s a sheep over here! It’s like the cutest thing EVER!

Wednesday: 😒

Enid: OhmyGOSH! IT’S SO FLUFFY I COULD DI—

Enid:

Enid: *clutches her chest* Hngh!

Enid:

*thud*

Thing: ‼️

Wednesday: 😐

Wednesday: 😑

Wednesday: 😐

Thing: ⁉️

Wednesday: No, it makes perfect—if absurd—sense. That is a female sheep, meaning I misinterpreted the vision. I simply did not expect Fate to be, as my late Enid would put it, a certified funny bitch.

Thing: ❓

Wednesday: Isn’t it obvious? Enid is dead…

Wednesday: *deeply exasperated sigh*

Wednesday: …because of ewe.

Thing:

Wednesday:

Thing:

Thing: *pats Wednesday’s shoulder, hops off, and skitters away to retrieve a defibrillator Pugsley*

Enid: You think I didn’t know about your little family curse? That I hadn’t researched every single thing about it, until I figured out exactly what I had to do?

Enid: Since the moment we met, I knew you were meant to be mine. It just wasn’t until my wolf woke up that I figured out how to make it happen.

Enid: You see, with your curse and my bite, I can finally own you—mind, body, and soul. As for heart…

Enid: *lips part in a cruel smile* I’m cool with that being a work-in-progress.

Wednesday: *unreadable stare*

Enid: So, babycakes, got any last wishes before I irrevocably claim you?

Wednesday: Just that afterwards, we visit City Hall.

Enid: *confused blink* Why there?

Wednesday: Because California is one of 8 states that recognizes self-solemnization.

Enid: Self-what-now?

Wednesday: It means we do not require a third-party officiant to marry.

Enid:

Wednesday: *holds up a folder* I’ve long since completed the paperwork in preparation for this visit. I assumed you wouldn’t mind that I forged your signature.

Enid:

Wednesday: *impatiently* Well? Get on with it.

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

“We didn’t. We were just talking about our plans, you overheard, and then you kept showing up and tutting at us but you always took part.”

“Was I supposed to let you get yourselves in trouble without ensuring that someone responsible was looking after you?”

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.