“Social media is destroying us!” the man expounded from the TV behind the counter. Meghan glanced at the overly loud set and raised her voice so the barista could hear her.
“Double mocha latte with extra cream.”
What? The girl replied, leaning further over the counter.
DOUBLE MOCHA LATTE with EXTRA CREAM! Megan shouted.
Why doesn't she just turn the damn thing down? she thought.
Megan tapped he long fingernails on the counter while she waited for he drink to arrive.
Möchtest du etwas zu Mittag essen?
Megan turned her head slowly, her bright red tresses floated along after and then as if not remembering when to stop they continued until they covered her face and landed in her mouth.
Nein, ich habe heute früh gegessen. She replied.
The tall disheveled middle aged man gave her a surpised once over, but recovered quicly. What he couldn't recover was the disdain voice.
“Good God, they sent me a baby. How am I supposed to uncovered years old stolen artwork with someone who's not even old enough to remember World War 2 - the last three words of his sentence dropped into an undecipherable grumble.
I'm not a baby, Megan shot back in a hoarse whisper. A triple degree in history, art history and archaeology have prepared me well for this task. Also I spent 2 years working with Dr Weisen to uncover the Biernenschlachten Museum stolen archives and I am MORE than up to any task you might have.”
She tossed a five on the counter grabbed her drink and moved towards the back corner of the room. Shall we get to it then?
My name is Megan and I have already made contact.
“Your children are becoming idiots right before your eyes!” The man from the TV screamed.
Andrew. What do you mean you've already made contact?
Meghan was excited to have been invited to the art show. As a fifth year art student at the prestigious British College of the Arts, she felt she had finally paid her dues...or at least enough of them to score entry into the private showing of the talented and rumored widely eccentric, Hoss. Arguably, the most unrestrained and prominent painter of the last century.
Hoss's paintings were renowned for being disregardful of moral restraints. The subjects of his paintings were entirely composed of naked grossly obese people in personally compromising and perplexing behavior. The paintings Erin passed, lining the long hallway to the main gallery were a series of 500 lb naked cowboys performing rope tricks, branding cattle and riding bucking horses. Meghan took her time through the hall, stopping at each piece of art to admire, if not the content at least the highly skilled technique.
Turning the corner, she saw him, an obviously overindulged man with a large, bulbous nose and lofty gray eyebrows sitting at the midst of a raucous group of fawning art collectors each vying for the slightest attention. He was slouched uncomfortably in the corner of a hard Eames mid-century couch, itself a piece of art. Unaware or uncaring of the damage a man of his size could do to such a delicate piece of furniture, he rolled from larded cheek to cheek on the frail piece of furniture as questions about his paintings were fired at him from each side. He had a dainty little drink in one hand and Meghan was unsure whether he was drinking it , or spilling it, but he kept grabbing one after another each time the tray passed by....
What a disgusting creep, Meghan thought as she edged closer and closer to the artistic icon. He was now belching profusely and expounding loudly about the virtues of naked ranching, She was both repulsed and fascinated. She was close enough to hear him explain to one of the mindless disciples, as if to a child in primary school, that his paintings were “Certainly not of grossly FAT or overweight people – These are figures of “fleshy volume” as pure as nature made them.”
Meghan rolled her eyes.
Several women were already fawning over the crude and pompous swine and he was eating it up like the cob roller he was.
Meghan knew this would be easy. A man with an ego as large as his potato shaped carcass, would be an easy mark for her classic Irish beauty. Straightening her spine, she brushed her shoulder length strawberry tresses over one eye. She knew it made her look sexy and mysterious.
She took a long slow calming breath and fixed her resulting exposed ice blue peeper on her prize.
At first, he didn't see her. His view was blocked by a young suited art curator eager to be noticed by the big man. She move just two inches to the left and then stood completely still. The room swirled around her - whispered conversations, loud laughs, clinking glasses melted into a din. She stood quietly. Waiting. She knew her power. It would only take a moment.
There. His voice stopped mid sentence. A single drop of moisture slid down his temple across his fatted jowl.. She could hear the plink as it hit the rim of his current girly cocktail.
Her gaze was fixed on his eyes and his eyes were fixed on the one blue dot in a red twirly sea of free-spirited mane.
When the rest of the entourage realized they were not getting any answers to their questions from the big man, they melted away like ice in summer, into the far reaches of the gallery
Hello. He said. His voice was strangely soft and inviting.
Meghan almost returned the greeting with a smile. But no – that would not be in her best interest. If she was to get what she wanted, she must not stumble in her well rehearsed script.
His eyes were still on her – waiting for a response. But she neither gave one or moved an inch. Instead she slowly turned on her heel and walked away. This was enough for today. She had made her own introduction and tomorrow the next step in her plan would take place.
Dr Jekyl watched as the tall raven haired middle aged woman exited his office for the last time. He sighed. It didn't surprise him that he would miss their weekly visits as she was both witty and intoxicating, but sadly, there was nothing more he himself could do for her. Her illness had surpassed his skills and he had reluctantly referred her to a colleague more attuned to her afflictions. Yes, the formidable Dr Hyde would be able to treat her peculiarities better than he.
He quickly began scribbling his final journal entry and summary to pass on to Dr Hyde and he must hurry, because Dr Hyde could show up unexpectedly and would need the information for her next session.
Morticia Addams, the patient is question is the wife of Mr. Gomez Addams and the mother of two children, a son, named Pugsly and a daughter named Wednesday. He wrote.
Morticia and her family inherited the Gomez family home – a great old Victorian structure and there is a certain amount of stress involved with their remodeling project. Morticia's taste - well, let's just say that she has not outgrown her teenage Goth period and is seldom seen wearing anything bur a floor-length, black dress. Her selections for home décor are in the same vein and they are contrary to the will of the rest of the family who want to lighten and modernize the structure.
She is a loving, tolerant, and patient, yet mentally unstable woman, inclined to exaggerations and hallucinations. This has possibly been exacerbated by living with her grandmother, brother and an eternal guest, her husband's cousin - whom she detests so much she only calls him cousin It.
She irrationally considers cousin IT a constant threat to her son's safety and many of Morticia's dreams center around attacking the cousin to protect her son. She lives in fear that during a sleepwalking episode, she will believe her dreams are real and harm her husband's cousin.
Morticia also hears voices. They talk to her directly and are usually transient and limited to short phrases having to do with household operations. One voice however keeps accusing her of not being a competent mother.
Morticia often has visual hallucinations,mainly in the form of insects, snakes, rats and bats that crawl up the walls of her home, particularly in her daughter, Wednesday's room.
Despite my great efforts to help her, she seems to be regressing and has recently developed a severe facial tic, which usually appears when Pugsley is misbehaving, when her authority is challenged, or whenever the cousin is present,
Morticia cares deeply for her family, yet when her husband Gomez hired a butler without her knowledge or when Pugsley is really disobeying her or acting up, she does have extreme outbursts of rage.
For reasons she will not disclose, Morticia wants Pugsley to grow up to be a chiropractor, even though she knows that is very unlikely to happen. She has no plans for Wednesday and will only comment that she has very strong willpower and whatever career she chooses will only lead to Thursday, which I find fascinating. You may want to delve into this relationship further.
Morticia is prone to small obsessive compulsive episodes brought about by all of the stress caused by Pugsley. Gomez, Cousin it and to a lesser extent, her brother, Fester. She talks about having to put a thing back in the box, over and over, several times a day.
Mr Addams is beside himself with worry as he loves his wife dearly and can calm her only by kissing the entire length of her arm when she enters a psychotic episode of alternating outbursts of rage and depression.
So here you are my dear Mr. Hyde. I hope that when you return you will be able to cure the beast within Mrs Addams as I fear I have miserably failed her.
Your friend and colleague,