"Hello, Mother dear. You're looking lovely as ever."
"Hello, son. Hello, Bella," she added as almost an afterthought. "I know I'm early. Tonight is so important and I know, Bella dear, you have so much to do that I thought I would come over and give a helping hand.""There was no need for you to go to so much trouble," Bella replied in a slightly frosty tone. "I've thrown parties for Mortimer before."
"I know. That's why I'm here. Where's Chef Bon Bon? I have a few ideas I thought I would discuss with him."
"Yes, Chef Bon Bon. One of the best French chef's in town." It suddenly occured to the elderly matriarch. "You didn't hire a chef to cater the party, did you?"
"Oh, we're going to eat your cooking." Cornelia sighed dramatically. "Maybe I can spike the punch and get everyone lit enough they don't realize what they're eating."
Bella gritted her teeth and started to say something nasty but Cornelia had turned her attention to her son. "Not you though, dear. You drink too much as it is."
"Of course you do, dear," his mother said with a condescending smile. "Now where's my granddaughter. I want to make sure Cassandra wears that nice party dress I got for her from Milan. It's the only decent dress the little thing seems to own. Why you two don't dress her more fashionably is beyond me."
As the small dinner party progressed, Cornelia Goth smoothly cruised from cluster to cluster. Her main objective was to assure the clients that a new business in town, Tang Unlimited, was nothing to be concerened about.
"Of course this new business in town isn't worth a two dollar bill, y'all. It's FOREIGN after all. No, the people of SimVille want a name they know and can trust, and that name is Goth Enterprises.""Mother is right," Mortimer adds, trying to be a part of this discussion.
"Of course I'm right," Cornelia shoots back. "I've been in this business for over forty years. I know what I'm doing.""Yes, Mother," Mortimer grumbles.
Cornelia laughed self-consciously and waved her hand in dismissal. "Really, who in this town wears striped ties, I ask you?"
As dinner was being served, Cornelia sidled up to her son. "Mortimer, dearest, don't you think you've had enough punch for this evening," she whispered sweetly."I'm a grown man," her son slurred. "I know when to say when."
Apparently he was wrong as moments later he passed out cold from drinking the spiked punch. Bella, who was used to his uncontrollable drinking, could do nothing but look on with disgust. His mother continuted to circulate among the guests, acting as if nothing unusual had happened.
Later in the evening, the unusual couldn't be ignored. Just as Mortimer's mother successfully roused him from his blackout, vengeful ghosts from the family graveyard started haunting the party.
Bella's sailor pantsuit by...
