Funeral Baked Meats

Posted on Thu 9th Nov, 2017 @ 7:08am by Purulence Addams

754 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: A Phaser as Deadly as a Candlestick
Location: The Addams House

Chlamydia Addams looked up from her fried rice, around the end of the dining room table where she sat with her sisters. Had this been breakfast, or lunch, each of them would doubtless have been reading, but an inviolable Addams family tradition demanded no distractions but each other at the supper table. "Samhain approaches," she noted, pronouncing the holiday's name sow-een. "The veil grows thin. Though none of our ancestors rest in this earth, I thought to perhaps prepare funeral baked meats."

Ischemia paused, blackened newt halfway to her mouth. "You can get the ingredients out here?" she asked, surprised.

"I believe so, yes," Chlamydia answered. "There are a few butchers which cater to various religious communities, and if that fails, I do have a replicator. It won't be exactly like Grandmama's, of course, but it should be edible."

"Of course. Which brings something else to mind, from those family dinners." She put the bite in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully before completing her thought. "Full disclosure. Are we going to include that tradition, as well?" A glance at Pru indicated the reason she might hope for that. Ischemia couldn't recall anything, other than Starfleet-sensitive issues, that she wouldn't be willing to share this year.

Chlamydia followed the glance. "I am sure I could scare up a chalice," she said. The one they'd grown up using had, so family legend said, been stolen from the altar of a church generations before. Chlamydia had her doubts about the story, not least because she'd spotted the Old American words "die cast" on the bottom of the foot.

Purulence was dining on a mixed greens salad with a bowl of garlic and herb mashed cauliflower. She took a hasty sip of her tea. "Full Disclosure? Wouldn't really be Samhain without it, would it?"

Ah, ha! Now it'll all come out. her elder sister thought. "How would you like to divide the responsibilities?" she asked. "Bear in mind what happened the year I was asked to do the floral arrangements. Not a single bloom would go limp and not a black rose to be found anywhere!"

"There's a rather good florist on the promenade," Chlamydia countered. "Or so I hear, at any rate. And perhaps you can convince the neighborhood urchins to transport fallen leaves to our yard."

Ischemia scowled at the idea of talking children into anything, but she nodded in resignation. "Right. Flowers and leaves. I'm on it. But I'm not baking the ham, and that's final."

Glancing at Purulence, she asked, "And what about you? Any job you don't particularly want that we can talk you into doing?"

Purulence laughed. "Hanging cobwebs. And I can scare up some bloodwine from The Lounge, if you'd like. I presume we'll want it served warm?"

"Is there any other way?" Ischemia asked, raising her eyebrow. "Okay, so decorating and drinks are on you, but I'll get the flowers and leaves," she glanced at Chlamydia, "maybe the spices?"

"I'll handle everything related to food," Chlamydia said. "Which takes care of all the details except one: do we wish to invite the living, or only the dead?"

"The respectful living," Purulence replied. "I don't think you'd invite anyone here who wasn't, though." She began ticking off items. "So cobwebs, candles, artfully arranged bones, etc., myrrh, maybe some things for El Dia de los Muertos." She brightened. "Which, as far as I'm concerned, means tamales, even if they are more traditionally a Christmas dish."

"Spicy apple desert tamales!" Ischemia agreed enthusiastically. "But only if you don't make them. Chlamy's never fail to be fabulous, but yours can be ... hmmm, how do I say this? A challenge even to the dead?" She raised an eyebrow, not reminding Prudence of exactly how badly things had gone the last time they'd all been in New York for the family Samhain celebration.

"I was thinking pork tamales, but I'm okay with apple ones," Purulence agreed. "And no, I wasn't planning to cook them. Tamales take all day. Too tiring!"

Before the reflection could turn sad, Ischemia turned to Chlamydia. "Who do you find respectful here? Or ... is there anyone? Should we consult Thing? He's an excellent judge of character, and the dead often agree with him."

"Most of the senior officers are open-minded enough that I have yet to receive a single threat of being burnt at the stake," Chlamydia answered, taking another bite. After she had chewed and swallowed, she added, "a bit disappointing, really, when you think about it."

 

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