Happy
Jixaversary, Cathy! It's been great, and I've had a lot of
fun. Here's looking forward to another year!
They’re Creepy
and They’re Kooky, Mysterious and Spooky
They’re
altogether Ooky…
Trixie headed up the hill to
the next-door neighbor’s house that gloomy October evening. She
was going to eat dinner with the Wheelers and then spend the night with
her best friend, Honsday. They had been friends for years, and
spending the night at each other’s houses was commonplace for the two
teenage girls. When Trixie reached the large, wooden door, she
heard eerie organ music playing slowly. She reached up and
grabbed a hold of the iron gargoyle shaped knocker
Tall, redheaded Regan answered
by opening the door slowly and glaring down at young Trixie. He
bowed slightly and allowed Trixie to enter. As soon as she was
inside, he shut the door and slowly made his way back to the organ and
continued to play. The place looked rather dark, but she didn’t
mind. It was an old home. And
besides, it’s full of love.
Madeleine appeared in the
doorway, her long honey-colored hair flowing down over her shoulders
and to her waist. “Trixie, darling! How good of you to come
over!” She reached over and tugged on a long cord that hung by
the door.
“You rang?” Regan said, his
eyes staring unseeingly upward.
“Yes, Regan,” Madeleine
said. “Please fetch dear Honsday. She’s in the attic with
Jimsley. I think they’re practicing famous Shakespearian death
scenes.”
With a loud moan, Regan turned
away.
“Ever since Grandmama Hart
taught Honsday secret family poison recipes, she hasn’t been able to
stop recreating death scenes by poison,” Madeleine explained to Trixie,
while leading her down the hallway to the den.
Swaying her hips, the tall,
fair Madeleine led the way down the hall, her long, black, floor-length
gown dragging along on the floor, constricting her gait as she
walked. She opened the large doors, revealing the huge den.
Sitting at the desk was Matthew, playing chess with a disembodied hand.
“Beatrix,” Matthew crowed and
stood up, putting an end to the chess game. The hand stood up on
its thumb, ring and pinky fingers while it greeted Trixie with a “V”
peace sign.
Trixie ran her fingers through
her black and hot pink curls as she looked around. First of all,
she was rather shocked at seeing Matthew Wheeler playing chess with a
hand. But, with her detectiving skills, she soon figured out that
this was what happened to Tom Delanoy. She hadn’t seen him around
and had wondered.
“Miss Honsday, Madam,” came a
deep voice from behind. Trixie turned to find herself face to
face with her best friend. Regan turned and slowly walked down
the hall. A minute later, they all heard the organ play again.
“Your timing is impeccable,
Trixie,” Honsday said, glaring at her friend. “I was just about
ready to show Jimsley the final scene from Hamlet.”
Trixie remained silent.
Of all the things she wanted to do to her brother, and poisoning was
definitely one of them, she would never do it. But Honsday and
Jimsley lived for that kind of thing. She knew, but had never
seen, that there was an electric chair up in the attic. Honsday
told her about it one day. She told her that they keep it around
for special guests – like the occasional politician, or crooked
businessman who would stop by.
Matthew, jolly as ever, rubbed
his hands back and forth, while what remained of Tom Delanoy perched on
top of Matthew’s broad shoulder. “Dinner is almost ready.
But first, let’s play a game!”
Honsday remained
expressionless. “What about Clue?” she said, pulling a lead pipe
from one pocket of her dress and a revolver from the other.
“Trixie likes detective games,” she said, a sinister grin spreading
across her face.
“Oh, Honsday, darling.
You’re so wonderfully violent,” Madeleine said, approvingly to her
daughter. “But we have a guest. Trixie, why don’t you pick
a game?”
Trixie bit her lip. The
Wheelers were a strange family, and they often had odd tastes in games,
although, Clue was a game that she was very fond of.
Just then, redheaded Jimsley
showed up in the den. “How about Lumberjack, and you get to be
trees,” he said, whipping out a chainsaw from behind his back.
Startled, Tom jumped and hid
behind Matthew’s neck.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Honsday
said, dropping the lead pipe and yanking the chainsaw away from
him. “The last time we played that, Tom was reduced to kindling!”
“I know,” Madeleine said,
smiling at both her children, and then at Trixie. “It was the
first time I seriously thought the fun had gone too far, but Celia
doesn’t seem to mind a bit. In fact, the very next morning, she
was so cheerful while she dusted. Unfortunately, we’ve had to
hire a new chauffer.”
“It was dreadful, Mother,”
Honsday said.
“It was a dreadful kind of
cheer, Honsday,” Matthew said. “Now, since dinner is almost
ready, we don’t have much time for lynchings, poisonings, and other
kinds of creative ways to kill each other. So, why don’t we play
a simple game of Charades?”
Tom had been picked to play
first. He stood up in front of the Wheelers and Trixie and began
acting out the first word.
“Hole.”
“Crevasse.”
“Pit.”
“Grave.”
Tom jumped up, snapped, and
after landing, he pointed at Honsday with his index finger. Next,
he began acting out the second word.
“Steps.”
“Looking.”
“Grave stone.”
“Grave digging.”
Tom jumped up again, snapped,
and pointed at Jimsley, and then gave the thumbs up.
“Good show, Tom,” Matthew
crowed.
Jimsley stood up to act out
the next word. Just before he made the first action, a loud GONG was heard throughout the
house.
“Ah! Dinner is ready!”
Matthew announced, wrapping his strong arm around his wife’s tiny waist.
Tom led the way down the hall
as Matthew and Madeleine, along with Jimsley, Honsday, and Trixie,
followed. As they made their way, Trixie looked up at the large
portraits that covered the walls. On one side of the main hall,
five portraits of all the past Madeleines in the Hart family were
pictured. On the other side, five portraits of Matthew Wheeler’s
ancestors hung from the wall. As they walked, ten sets of eyes
followed their every step.
Their House is a
Museum, When People Come to See ‘em…
Trixie never said much at the
Wheeler home. Entering their house was like entering another
world – a museum. Every time she opened her mouth to speak,
something would happen that would stifle whatever it was she had to
say. At home, she was so outspoken, but when in the presence of
the Wheelers, the odd family on this side of the Hudson River, she
always felt rather shy. Honsday’s dagger-throwing stare didn’t
make things any more comfortable for her. Honsday had been her
best friend ever since both girls were thirteen. When they first
met, Trixie was quick to make observations and note Honsday’s
weirdness. While the Belden family was known for their less than
orthodox view of life and what a family should be like, the Wheeler
family took the cake.
Jimsley had run away from his
stepfather the summer Trixie and Honsday met, and not too soon after,
he was adopted by Matthew Wheeler, a mysteriously wealthy,
never-worked-a-day-in-his-life trillionaire. While Honsday and
Jimsley spent their time playing Russian Roullette, Wheel of Poison,
Which Noose Is Rigged With A Slipknot (And Would You Really Bet Your
Life On It), and Name That Skull, Matthew Wheeler spent his time using
his veranda as a driving range, counting his money, and reading the
countless collection of books in his library, learning all about
torture, agony, and pain.
Miss Trask served dinner in
the darkened dining room. Dinner at the Wheeler house was not
much different than dinner at Trixie’s own house. Food was served
and a family of four sat down to enjoy their meal. The only
difference that set the two families apart was the fact that dinner in
the Manor House dining room was formal, whereas dinner in the Belden
home was a lively affair. Madeleine never cooked dinner.
She had hired help to do that for her. Helen Belden never cooked
dinner either. She got it out of a box. Yes, it was no
secret that Helen Belden was the world’s most terrible cook. Her
hamburgers were rubbery, stuffing was soggy, and just thinking about
her gravy could give anyone a gag-reflex reaction.
However, between family
discussions…or fights…the Belden family always had a strong bond of
unity. The Wheeler family had that same strong bond, but it was a
more…properly morose relationship. The Beldens understood love,
even if it came in the form of fighting. The Wheelers understood
torture, pain, torment, and physical anguish as their way of showing
each other love. Whenever Honsday tried to kill Jimsley, she was
in fact telling him how much she appreciated having him for a
brother. This was a far cry different than his life with
Jonesy. There, he received the same kind of torture and pain, but
there was no love behind it.
The food served at the Wheeler
house was different than the food served at the Belden house. The
Wheeler family ate exotic foods, or whatever Robin, the cook,
prepared. Sometimes they ate simple foods. Other nights,
they ate extravagant dishes. Tonight, Miss Trask served some kind
of thick soup that continued to bubble and spurt in the bowl.
After the soup, to keep with the Friday tradition of eating white meat
products instead of beef, live escargot with a sardine sauce was
served. The dinner was rather light considering the summer
heat. So, instead of the kipper casserole that Robin originally
had planned, everyone ate Brazilian grasshoppers and Amazon dung beetle.
Honsday was thrilled with her
dinner. She liked playing with the larger varieties of
insects. Normally, the family would have been served live
insects, but since they had a guest, Miss Trask thought it better to
only serve the snails alive. Jimsley enjoyed the thrill of
bringing down his own food to eat. That was half the fun of
serving live food. However, Trixie preferred her food served
fully cooked and dead. After the fiasco that happened last
December at Matthew and Madeleine’s anniversary party, when the prey
nearly attacked Trixie, the family has made the exception for
her. Still, dinner was just as good to Jimsley and Honsday.
After dinner, Trixie and the
Wheeler family retired to their enormous sitting room. Madeleine
opened the drapes to allow the light from the full moon in through the
window. While Honsday and Trixie sat in a corner and talked,
Jimsley and Regan played a game of Chess with the special ivory “Famous
Mobsters and Serial Killers” chess set. Celia and Tom followed
Miss Trask into the room and took a seat on the couch. While Miss
Trask talked about some of Robin’s brand new “Recipes for Disaster”, as
her cookbook was labeled, Tom sat in Celia’s lap.
Matthew spotted Madeleine at
the window, the silvery moonlight rays reflecting off her sleek, black
gown. She stood, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye while
fidgeting with the rose stems in the crystal vase.
“Cara mia,” he said, his voice
husky and deep.
Madeleine’s smile grew larger
as she stopped rearranging the rose stems to face him.
“Tu es ma noirçeur par
un jour de soleil!” she murmured, letting him take a hold of her hand
and kiss it.
(Translation: “You are my darkness on
a sunny day”)
“Délicieuse petite
guêpe!” he continued, reaching her neck. “I love it
when you speak French!”
(Translation: “You delicious little
wasp!”)
Madeleine ran her fingers
through her husband’s red hair and watched as he kissed his way to the
crook of her elbow, mumbling sweet, horrible nothings in French as he
went.
“Ah, Matthew,” she
sighed. “Homme de mes cauchemars!”
(Translation: “Man of my nightmares.”)
Honsday and Trixie stopped
talking for only a minute to see what was going on with Honsday’s
parents. Matthew had reached Madeleine’s neck and continued to
kiss his way up to her ear, whispering unintelligible horrible nothings
to her. Honsday rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wish they
wouldn’t do that,” she said to Trixie. “It’s really nauseating.”
Trixie nodded. “It’s
like when my parents start kissing. I just want to run and
scream.”
“Just wait until they do a
tango. That’s when I have to leave the room.”
Just then, Matthew reached
over to the victrola and put the heavy needle down on the thick,
seventy-five that lay on the turntable. The unmistakable sounds
of a traditional French tango filled the sitting room as Matthew took
his wife in his arms and seductively led her around on the floor.
With every note, Matthew pulled her closer.
Honsday folded her arms and
gave her parents that “stare”. Jimsley frowned at his parents and
returned to the chess game. Regan groaned. Celia, with a
tear in her eye, held on to Tom and watched the intense dance between
the two dark lovers. Miss Trask grinned, watching as her employer
and his wife danced one of the most romantic and sexual dances known to
mankind. The lambada had nothing on a tango…a tango danced by
Matthew and Madeleine Wheeler.
Honsday sighed. “If he
dips Mom, I’m out of here.”
Just then, Matthew violently
swung Madeleine away from him, and, just as violently, yanked her back
and swooped her around and down, her golden hair nearly touching the
floor. Madeleine opened her eyes and gazed up into Matthew’s
loving green ones.
“Oh, Matthew! You
reckless, wonderful fool! I love it!”
“Cara mia,” he said bending
down for a kiss. “You’ll be the death of me someday!”
Her lips pulled into a sensual
smile. “Death is such an intimate subject, sweetheart. Not
in front of the children.”
“I think I’m going to be
sick,” Honsday said in agony.
“My love,” Madeleine said,
interrupting the tango. “We’re annoying the children.”
Matthew’s smile dominated his
entire face. “Excellent!” he crowed, taking his wife in his arms
once again. “Cara mia, tonight you are mine!” With that, he
gave her one final spin, pulled her painfully close, and planted a kiss
on her velvety, black lips. Before leaving the room, Matthew
brought the needle on the victrola back to its rest and shut the heavy,
wooden cover.
Trixie and Honsday spent the
evening chatting about everything and nothing while Jimsley and Regan
played Chess. Pretty soon, it was time for the girls to head to
bed. The ancient paintings on the wall up the dark staircase
always gave Trixie the creeps. It wasn’t that all the eyes seemed
to follow her. It was really a gallery of paintings depicting all
the fun times the Hart and Wheeler families had in the past. At
the top of the stairs was the family favorite: The Hart Family
Reunion. Relatives from as far back as six hundred years ago all
posed for the portrait. Her eyes rested on Honsday’s cousin, Ben,
who stood beside her. A small chuckle surfaced as she remembered
back to the time when she pretended to have a relationship with him in
order to convince her Dad that she needed to get her diamond ring out
of the safe deposit box at the bank. Actually, Cousin Ben
wouldn’t have been so bad, but she never did care for men who wore
their hair down in front of their face.
As Honsday reached the top
step, she turned to her friend and with an icy glare, she asked, “you
did remember to bring your voodoo doll, didn’t you?”
Trixie slapped her forehead
with the palm of her hand. “I’m such an idiot! I’ll run
back and get her.”
“Don’t be too long as the
witching hour is almost upon us.” With that, she headed to her
room and closed the door behind herself.
Just before turning around,
Trixie stopped short as a blood-curdling scream echoed down the long,
dark hallway. A dim light shone underneath the door to Matthew
and Madeleine’s master bedroom. Trixie was no longer
worried. With a sigh, she turned and hurried down the grand
staircase, Honsday’s words explaining the cries of agony echoing
through her mind. Matthew and Madeleine’s idea of foreplay before
a torturous night of agonizing lovemaking wasn’t exactly something most
other couples would do.
As Trixie made her way down
the pathway to Crabapple Farm, the blaring sounds of Nine Inch Nails
echoed out of Mart’s room and out into the preserve. Reaching the
front yard, her faced turned an interesting shade of pink. For
standing in the front yard throwing food at the new neighbors, the
people who purchased and renovated Ten Acres were her parents.
God my
parents could be so embarrassing!
As her mother told off the new
neighbors, her dark auburn head of curls shook with each word.
Coming back from the woodpile was her father, who hefted the large
piece of wood over the fence and sent it smashing right through the
summerhouse window.
It seemed that there was
another argument going on about the property lines.
Trying not to be noticed,
Trixie hurried into the white frame house, past the gothic living room,
up the staircase and into her messy room and grabbed “Patty” her voodoo
doll that Grandmama Hart had made for her commemorating one of Trixie’s
famous mysteries. Two minutes before midnight, Trixie was back in
Honsday’s room. As she came rushing in through the door, she
spotted her best friend sitting by her window seat, allowing the full
moon to illuminate the room.
Turning around, her face pale
in the moonlight, she smiled at her friend and held up her “Jane”
doll. In front of her, on a wooden platter, several needles lay
in a row. Somewhere out there, in the small town of Sleepyside,
there was a party going on that was about to get just a little bit more
interesting.
They really are
a scree-am…
The Wheeler Family
(snap, snap)
Author’s notes:
First of all, unless you’ve
been under a rock for the past 40 years, then you probably know that
this is a parody of the Addams Family TV show starring Carolyn Jones
and John Astin that aired on ABC between 1964 and 1966.
http://www.classic-tv.com/shows/addamsfamily.asp
Trixie Belden® is a
registered trademark of Random House Publishing Corporation and no
profit is being made. This is just a silly tribute to both Trixie
Belden and The Addams Family.
Thank you, Mary, for your
edits! You get a special “Bob-White Snap” just from me. *grin*
This is a stand-alone story
and just a parody. I don’t have anything else planned as far as
any special kind of odd universe or something where Sleepyside become
some kind of freak show.
And, uh…10 points goes to
whomever can figure out who the Belden family is a parody of…
