Wednesdays introduction to squishmallows

Chapter 1

The methodical clicking of her typewriter could lull anyone into a trance, Anyone but Wednesday Addams. She stays vigilant. She Runs through her novel ideas, types them up, and keeps tabs on her surroundings simultaneously. Little in her surroundings requires her attention. Enid had snuck out for the night. Thing was resting peacefully next to her, and little else in the isolated room would warrant her attention. Despite the tranquility around her, Wednesday keeps all her senses open. She might not have supper hearing, but she still catches onto the thrumb of footsteps rushing up the stairs. She continues her work- even when the door swings open with a bang- but devotes more of her attention to her surroundings than before.

The sound of Enid flopping onto her bed with an annoying crinkly bag floats through the room. She had been on a late-night shopping spree. What could warrant the bubbly girl to set out in the middle of the night for one eludes Wednesday. She feels that if she asks her roommate, she will be trapped listening to her drone on about mundane, inconsequential facts, so she stays silent. Thing, on the other hand, swings off her table and scurries over to Enid to see what treasure she has brought back.

"Hello, Thing!" Enid's overly cheery voice rings out, accompanied by more shifting and plastic crinkling. Wednesdays cant see Thing to discern what he communicates, but Enid's side of the conversation tells her all she needs to know. "It's so cute, right? I've wanted to get one forever, but I never saw one I really liked until now! When I heard they were getting a shipment, I knew I had to get one. No matter what!"

Her attention is fully drawn to the conversation for a second, her fingers stall over the keys to her typewriter, and she cocks her head slightly to the side.

"Come join us Wednesday!" Enid's voice rings out before she can correct her mistake. She reluctantly turns around but stops dead when she sees the enormous egg-shaped ball of pastel rainbow sitting on Enid's bed.

"What is that?" She asks, horrified.

"A Squishmallow," Enid replies as if it should be obvious.

"And what exactly is that?" Wednesday asks, not dating, to take a step any closer to the abomination.

"Their supper fluffy stuffed animals. Try hugging it!" Enid trusts the toy forward, and Wednesday quickly sidesteps.

"I don't engage in hugging, and I would never touch something so horrendously and unnecessarily colorful."

"The color is half Its appeal!" Enid says, bouncing up and down.

"And what's the other half?" Wednesday deadpans.

"The squish! It's as fluffy as a cloud!" Enid shouts as she spins around and squeezes it tight to her chest.

"It looks like you're strangling it," Wednesday observes out loud. Enid stops and looks down at the toy quizzically.

"I guess your right." She says. A little of the joy falling from her face. "It's still cute, tho." Wednesday scoffs but decides not to say anything as Enid rearranges the rest of her stuffed unicorn collection to fit its new addition.

After a couple of weeks of the hideous unicorn sitting on Enid's side of the room, Wednesday forgets about it. While it is one of the worst offenders regarding Enid's affinity for all things colorful, it easily blends into the rest of her side of the room. Every couple of nights, Enid will pull the plush from its place and squeeze it tightly while listening to bland commercialized pop music. She continuously bugs Wednesday, asking her if she wants to feel how soft it is.

"You don't even have to hug it. Just squish it a little."

"No."

"Come on. It's life-changing, I promise!"

"I've had enough life-changing events to deal with. I don't need to break out in a bunch of hives just to touch a stuffed animal."

"Oh." Enid practically deflates. "I forgot." She fidgets uncomfortably for a second, and Wednesday turns away from her to return to her writing.

The next time Enid brings the Stuffie out, she doesn't pester Wednesday. The same happens the next time, the next time, and the next time. Soon enough, Wednesday becomes confident she will never have to deal with it again. That is until she walks into their room one day to find a plastic bag on her bed.

She grumbles and walks over to move it to Enid's bed when she notices a note tucked into the side of the bag with her name on it. She picks it up and scans over its contents.

Howdy Roomy!

I bet you thought you could escape the Squishmallows.

NEVER!

I Spent forever searching but I found a fully black and white one for you for resale! It's even spooky!

Give it a good squeeze for me!

-Enid!!!

Wednesday cautiously peals the plastic away to find a black and white cartoon skeleton peering up at her. She stares down at its eyes and picks it up to toss into the corner when her hand sinks through. She looks at the toy astonished, and squeezes it again. The fluff inside gives way easily under her pressure but springs back up immediately when she releases it. After a tense moment, Wednesday brings it up to her chest and squeezes.

The hug- if you could even call it that- lasts only a few seconds, but it's the longest one she's ever had control over. Other people were difficult to embrace- literally and physically- but the stuffed toy had no emotions or wants for her to deal with. It won't linger too long or pick her up awkwardly and swing her around like a child. If she were to hug it again, she would be in complete control. So she places it next to her pillow.

She begins walking towards her typewriter when she notices Thing from the corner of her eye, "Not a word of this to anyone."