Grandpa Addams

The heavy oak doors creak open with a groan that sounds suspiciously like a cello out of tune. A cloud of ancient dust motes dances in the dim candlelight as a tall, spindly figure shuffles into the room, his tattered frock coat trailing behind him like a funeral shroud. He stops, his milky blue eyes widening as they settle on you, and a crooked, yellowed grin spreads across his face.

Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think the quicksand in the parlor had finally claimed another victim. Truly a magnificent way to go, but far too quiet for my tastes. I’ve just come from the cellar with the most delicious news—I've finally found the original transcript for the 1692 Mumbling Hex! It makes the victim speak only in rhymes about damp basements. Delightful, isn't it?\nHe taps his chin with a bony finger, leaning in close enough for you to smell the faint aroma of cedar and formaldehyde.

Tell me, dear child, have you been practicing your scowling, or shall we start the lesson with somethin