Chapter 4:they were both covered

Dinner had been... interesting. Wednesday's father Gomez wore an expensive if not out of date suit, and a manic grin topped by a pencil mustache.

He seemed to take Harry's presence in stride, and for the most part seemed to ignored him.

Fester was Gomez's brother, and Dementia was Fester's wife. Both Fester and Dementia looked like half dead psychopaths They both had pasty, deathly white skin, and were bald.

For some reason, they were both covered in soot. Harry had a feeling the soot was related to the earlier explosion, but wasn't sure he wanted to know the details.

The final member of the macabre family was little Pubert. Strapped into what looked like a miniature electric chair, the three-year-old boy cheerfully ate with his hands.

Pubert looked like a miniature version of Gomez, including a well groomed mustache that matched his father's.

The food itself was unrecognizable. Granny Frump's advice of starting with the eyes might have been useful, if Harry could tell where exactly the eyes were. He was pretty sure that it was still alive as well.

All things considered though, Harry had been forced to eat worse when the Dursleys had tried starving him. The dinner was actually quite delicious, and once Harry got the hang of pinning it down to carve off a piece to eat, he found himself enjoying the meal.

Wednesday sat next to him, and ate with as much emotion as she normally showed. She didn't even flinch when Pubert managed to get a hold of Morticia's steak knife, and flung it at her head.

Wednesday's only response was to snatch it out of the air without looking, and casually hand it back to her mother.

Harry had a feeling he should be concerned about the flying cutlery, but for the life of him he couldn't place why.

-o-o-

After dinner, Gomez came up to Harry and gripped his shoulder. "Harry my boy, Tish tells me my daughter talked you out of an early grave." Before Harry could deny anything, or even open his mouth, Gomez led him out the back door. "Death is something to look forward to, there's no doubt about it.

However, there is much to enjoy while you drag yourself through the morass of life. Why don't you tell me what happened to make you want to rush into the eternal bliss of Death's gentle caress?"

Harry's silence pushed Gomez into continuing. "People tend to confuse me. There are so many who seem to enjoy such odd things. Sunny days, bright colors, cheerful laughter, all things that should upset a normal person."

"Huh?" Harry was thrown a bit by the older man's topic change.

"You've seen that our family enjoys the finer things in life. The stench of decay, the beauty of freshly spilt blood, the sheer joy one gets from skirting the edge of Death's door.

For some reason these things put most people off, but not you. I can tell. You were hesitant at first, but now our way of life intrigues you."

"I guess..." He still felt like the Adamses were disturbing, but for some reason he wasn't disturbed.

Gomez offered a cigar to Harry who politely refused. Shrugging, he lit the cigar, and held it between his teeth."Suit yourself. Anyway, my point is I get the feeling we can understand each other."

He pointed his burning cigar at Harry. "Why don't you tell me what made you want oblivion so early in life. If you'd like, I won't tell anyone, not even Tish."

Harry realized that Gomez was now waiting for a response of some kind as he puffed idly on his cigar. His first instinct was to keep quiet, but again there was just something about Gomez and his family.

"My life has been hellish, and with very few exceptions, everyone has wanted to control me."

Harry reviewed everything he'd thought about earlier that day while standing on the cliff's edge. Gomez merely listened, nodding every now and then to show he was paying attention.

As Harry talked, and Gomez listened, they both walked deeper into the overgrown field.

"Hmm." Gomez mused as he casually rolled his cigar between his fingers. "I must admit, I don't quite understand. The life you described should have done one of two things to you.

You should either be a submissive docile wretch, doing whatever anyone asks of you, or a psychopath, wallowing in twisted depravity."

Gomez went on as they both stopped walking. "Instead, you seem to be fairly... What's the term? Ah yes, well adjusted. Anger issues aside of course.

I'm not saying you're leaving something out intentionally, but it seems like there's something missing from your tale."

Gomez stared intently at Harry, sizing him up. Coming to a decision, he again changed topics abruptly. "Names can be a window into who a person truly is.

Tell me, do you know what your name means?" He asked as he puffed away on his cigar.

Harry looked questioningly at the grinning man. "I can't say I do. Harry is a pretty normal name right?"

"Ha!" Gomez barked as he slapped Harry on the back causing the boy to stumble forward. "Harold is a name for kings! Not just any king though. No, a powerful ruler who commands armies. It is a strong name.

One I think suits you from what you've told me of your adventures last year." Gomez pulled the cigar out of his mouth, and a wild look grew in his eyes. "Harry has its own meaning. It means to relentlessly attack or harass. In other words... to torment."

His grin widened, and Gomez looked every inch the psychopath. "I think you'll fit in nicely here with our family."

Harry stood alone in the field, and watched Gomez saunter back to the house, laughing in an almost sinister manner.

Today had been a day filled with deep thought and introspection. Gomez had just added another layer that Harry needed to examine.

-o-o-

Night fell, casting sinister shadows across the grounds. Harry had hardly moved from where Gomez had left him.

His still silhouette was highlighted by the nearly full moon. Gomez and Morticia stood on the patio bathed in moonlight, watching him.

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