I do not own Matilda or the Addams Family.

I do own books.

Matilda Wormwood, Meet Wednesday Addams

"Good afternoon, sir. May I help you?"

The Addams Family library housed legions upon legions of ancient and eldritch tomes.

All first editions, bound in leather, animal skin, and papyrus.

Written in iron gall ink, charcoal, and animal blood.

They were unique, one-of-a-kind, priceless treasures, no doubt.

But as centuries pass and new discoveries are made and new thoughts considered, new books find themselves inevitably written and published.

And Gomez Addams, supportive, doting father though he was, did not have any of his children signed up for Dolly Patton's Imagination Library.

So there surely were a few worthy prose the members of the Addams family had not yet devoured.

And every town has a library.

Even the humble hamlet that stood near Cemetery Ridge.

And bright and clean and cheery as it may unfortunately be, it was the closest book station they had . . .

"Yes, good afternoon, dear lady."

. . . to patron.

"We are looking for a book on, um, what was it again, Wednesday?"

Wednesday Addams stepped forward, addressing her father not entirely unkindly.

"I can speak for myself, you know."

The well-to-do pater familias of the Addams family, outfitted in complete vested striped suit and bowed tie, nodded amicably and stepped aside, gesturing differentially toward the reception desk and the head bibliognost therein.

"By all means . . ."

To which the ghostly child stepped forward to she whom had welcomed all manner of readers into her library over years.

"Hello, young lady."

Wednesday Addams' mother and father had rigorously instructed her in social manners, along with table etiquette and dungeon safety protocol.

"Hello. I'm looking for a book on dangerous animals of the South American rainforest. By F. Bernard Henley."

Mrs Phelps appeared to mull briefly before nodding.

"Oh yes, we do have that book. But I think it's been checked out. Let me take a look."

As she turned to check her daily list, the sound of a singularly squeaky wheel cut the lawful quiet of the still library.

Wednesday turned her neatly braided head to witness a nondescript little girl pulling a book-laden Red Rocket wagon by its handle along behind her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Phelps," she called out primly to the bent back of the librarian as she pulled up. "I've brought back the books I borrowed."

The old lady smiled and gestured an arthritic hand toward a low counter near the girl.

"Thank you very much, Matilda. Just stack them on the counter there, dear."

"Yes, ma'am."

The little girl with the big red bow in her straight black hair obediently reached down and carefully began lifting the books from the wagon to the counter.

She inspected their covers, probably not for the last time, with fondness before setting them reverentially on the provided space.

They were all large books with impressive names like Getting to Know Your Geraniums and Lost Civilizations of the Ancient Mayans.

And Dangerous Animals of the South American Rainforest.

Wednesday reached down and picked up the book.

"I just finished that one," the little girl informed her. "It has fascinating information on red-bellied piranhas. Chapter twelve."

Wednesday's gaze set on the younger girl.

"Yes," she replied in her own unique intonations. "We're looking at getting one for Pugsley's tank."

The little girl seemed to consider this information carefully before responding.

"Is Pugsley your fish?" she quiered.

Wednesday opened the book, running a black painted finger down the table of contents to Chapter Twelve: 'Red-Bellied Piranha: Teeth of Death'.

"My brother."

No apparent alarm crossed Matilda's intelligent and serene features.

"A piranha will eat your other fish," she stated mildly.

Wednesday Addams might have considered smiling thinly had she not been Wednesday Addams.

"I'm counting on it."

The little girl might have thought of being creeped out had she not been herself.

"You'll need a dozen," she informed the dour girl. "They hunt best in schools."

It wasn't often Wednesday felt interested enough in other living people to introduce herself to them of her own violation.

"I'm Wednesday Addams," she stated, extending a cold hand.

The little girl smiled warmly, taking Wednesday's hand and shaking it.

"I'm Matilda. Matilda Wormwood."

Gomez, now absently leafing through a copy of New and Improved Preservation Techiques for the Modern Taxiderist, shifted his gaze smoothly over at the small child with rapt attention.

"Wormwood," he repeated wonderingly. "What a lovely name."

The little girl smiled.

"It's actually the name of a plant used in making absinthe."

A delighted smile flowed out from under the meticulously groomed mustache.

"Yes, I know. My wife cultivates it in our garden for just such purpose."

Matilda quietly spoke again, seeming not to take notice of the man's imposing figure.

"It has lesser known medicinal qualities as well."

Gomez, now entirely enchanted, brightened further.

"How extraordinary."

Well, never done a crossover before but thanks to Pinterest and the enthusiasm of Elishewa and Steve Rogers (thanks, sweeties), here I am.

Hungry for more? A little Morticia perhaps? A dash of Lurch?

Let me know because . . .

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