Oh, I love coming down to this old room.
Such charming mustiness.
In many ways the most attractive room in the house.
A regular treasure-trove of memories.
I'm sure we'll find 100 things down here to give to the charity bazaar.
Oh, Gomez, darling, look.
- Your wedding dress? - Yes.
You're not giving this dress to the bazaar?
Of course not, darling.
It has a special sentimental value for me that no one else could ever appreciate.
Perhaps I'll give this lovely mirror.
Remember the day I cracked it?
Yes. We had those seven wonderful years of good luck.
We couldn't part with that, of course.
Seems like everything down here is a priceless family heirloom.
Morticia, let's forget the bazaar.
They haven't even asked us to donate this year, anyway.
Yes, and I can't understand that.
Our old insurance man, Mr. Henson, is in charge this year,
and he's been to our home. He knows what lovely things we have.
Behaved very strangely the last time he was here.
Perhaps he's one of those people with no taste.
Last year, they auctioned off my stuffed vulture for 35 cents.
Your live one would've gotten much more.
I suppose we should just give junk, things we want to get rid of.
Excellent idea.
But, darling, that isn't the real spirit of giving.
We should give things of value, things we really cherish.
All right. I'll give them my grandfather moose clock.
The least I can give is this beautiful old table.
But, Morticia, that's priceless.
The original flogging table used by Ivan the Terrible.
I know, dear, it hurts. But that means it's right.
Just picture the addition it will make to someone's home.
As always, cara mia, you are right.
Darling, I'm going to call the bazaar headquarters
and tell Mr. Henson that we're going to contribute after all.
I know he'll be thrilled.
No, no, no. No more Addamses. We already have too much.
Mr. Henson, we can never have enough charity.
Yes, we can.
Of course. We welcome your donations, Mrs. Addams.
I'm dreadfully sorry we overlooked you. I don't know how that happened.
Well, I do. I deliberately passed them up.
Mr. Henson will be over with our truck.
Yes. Goodbye, my dear.
In charitable work, we can't allow personal feelings to interfere.
All right. All right, all right, I'll go.
But I'm taking our biggest, strongest truck driver with me.
That's fine.
And please, examine all this monstrous junk they contribute very carefully.
And if you come across a shrunken head, look closely. It may be mine.
Isn't it exciting, darling?
The whole family is getting into the spirit of giving.
Excellent character building, especially for the children.
The most important thing is that we're all giving the things we cherish the most.
Look. Look what Mama just donated.
That's giving with real pain. Her old friend Dr. Livingstone.
You're setting a shining example for us all, dear.
I'm donating Mary Queen of Scots.
Darling, that is your most precious possession.
I can chop a head off another doll.
I know, but not all the heads come off as nicely as this one.
Are you sure you want to donate Mary?
Yes, but I'll never be able to look her head in the eye again.
Uncle Fester, I haven't picked up your donation yet.
Charity begins at home, you know.
Would you mind turning this just a little bit?
I'm trying to get rid of a headache.
That's so soothing.
Uncle Fester, I'm ashamed of you.
Even little Pugsley has given generously.
Not his favorite wolf's head clock!
No, but he has given his toads and his lizards and his Gila monster.
And you know how he loves them.
I think the least you could do is give that old suit of armor.
No, not my suit of armor, please. I need it to feel secure.
Like Pugsley needs his wolf head clock.
That armor is the only place I can find to hide in to take my afternoon's nap.
Uncle Fester, the whole family has given until it hurts.
Well, I like to hurt as much as anybody, but don't ask me to give my armor up.
I have to wear it practically every day to scare off those neighborhood kids.
They annoy you?
Not me, but they keep waving sticks and throwing stones at my new pet falcon,
and he's getting a nervous stomach.
Uncle Fester, that bird is simply going to have to learn the difference
between a gopher and a cocker spaniel.
Morticia, please, not this armor.
They're not making suits like that anymore.
Look at the cut of that pasguard.
And the hang of the jambeau. It even came with two pair of cuisses.
You can keep the extra pair of cuisse and wear it with a matching coat of mail.
Make a nice sports outfit.
Let's get it all nicely polished up. Mr. Henson will be here shortly.
Morticia may send this to the bazaar, but I'm going to make sure it comes back.
Pretty clever, huh?
I'm glad you agree with me.
Here you are, Cleopatra, some nice, fresh walrus burger.
Darling, come along.
Eat. Cleopatra?
Oh, Lurch.
I've decided to give the baby strangler to the bazaar.
Taking it away from its m-a-m-a?
Yes, the baby's been weaned for several months now.
Would you put the baby in the sack, while I cover the mother?
She'd carry on terribly if she knew.
You can polish Pugsley's shoes later.
Now, Cleopatra...
Quick. Put it in the sack and take it in the living room with the other things.
Oh, darling, don't carry on so.
Oh, yes. Oh, you know, don't you?
You have a mother's intuition.
But we must all give till it hurts.
You're sick. What've you been eating?
Or whom?
Pugsley!
Pugsley. What did you do with Pugsley?
You murderer. You get three good meals a day.
Out with him. Out with him!
There's no need for you to eat between meals.
Cough him up.
I've heard of biting the hand that feeds you, but this is too much.
Pugsley! Pugsley!
- You want me, Father? - I hear you, Pugsley. Keep talking, boy.
I'll find you.
Pugsley. Pugsley!
Thank heaven you were indigestible.
Thank you, Thing.
Stuck.
Unstuck.
We've come to pick up the donations for the charity bazaar.
Follow me.
It's all right. He's really a nice fellow.
Yeah? He looks like parts of three nice fellows.
Oh, Mr. Henson, how nice to see you again.
How do you do, Mrs. Addams? This is Jason, our truck driver.
Charmed. I do have a lovely collection for you.
- Surprised? - Not a bit.
Mr. Jason, you may start loading these things.
Lurch will help you. Would you gentlemen excuse me?
Henson, good to see you.
Well, we certainly outdid ourselves this year.
- So I see. - Have you seen the clock
- I'm giving you folks? - Does it explode?
Certainly not. I wouldn't tamper with a valuable old timepiece like that.
Come here.
- How about that? - How about that?
Well, it looks like...
The rear end of a moose?
You have a very discerning eye, Henson. Ever seen any moose ends like that?
Definitely not.
At least it's just not a plain old head staring down at you.
No, those are so common.
Is it trying to get through the wall, or back out?
It's a clock, Henson.
The tail switches on the half hour, and goes all the way around on the hour.
2:00. Right on the dot.
Henson.
A rare and valuable clock. You really mustn't part with it, Mr. Addams.
It's... We mustn't deprive you of it. It's much too lovely.
Exactly what I was thinking.
Besides, it would be a shame to deprive Pierre of the choice view
that he's had for over 50 years.
After all, how many other mooses are lucky enough to see themselves
as others see them?
Besides, an ordinary man wouldn't appreciate a collector's item like that.
Little Pugsley has an amusing conventional clock up in his room.
I'm sure he'd be glad to donate it to charity. I'll run right up and get it.
- You all right, Mr. Henson? - You tell me.
Henson, here we are.
Just a simple child's timepiece. It's a variation on the cuckoo clock.
Watch.
- Wonderful, isn't it? - What do you feed it?
Feed a clock? You're pulling my leg, Henson.
I'll be interested to see what it brings at auction.
Yes. Who knows? Someone may just be furnishing a nursery.
A nursery. Perfect.
Why all that gay, toe-tapping music? What's the celebration?
I thought a little light music might bring Pugsley out of his depression.
Great Scott, he's not still up the chimney?
He's been up there for hours. He says he's never coming down.
Well, I imagine it is nice up there, at that.
You know he's sulking because you gave his wolf's head clock to the bazaar.
I know. I should have asked his permission first,
but I was so sure he'd want to donate it.
He says it's the only thing he's really ever loved.
The lad should learn that if you give till it hurts, it's fun.
I know, dear, but you try. I'm exhausted.
Pugsley, what do you say we visit the zoo?
You can see a live wolf's head there. Really pretty.
Darling, this may be a traumatic experience for him.
Perhaps we'd better try and get the clock back.
Nonsense. Some of the finest men in the Addams family
have been shaped by childhood traumas.
Still, it tears at my heart to think I've alienated my son.
Well, darling, perhaps we can get Uncle Fester
to make him a new wolf's head clock with bigger and better fangs.
By the way, where is Fester? I haven't seen him since yesterday.
Oh, dear, I do hope he hasn't gone into one of his trances.
The last one went on for five days. I thought he was a goner.
Dear Uncle Fester, he does love to play dead.
Matter of fact, I haven't seen Thing since yesterday, either.
Don't worry, Thing can handle himself.
Well, I'm gonna have one last try with Pugsley.
I tell you what, Pugsley boy...
That does it.
I've just got to repair this tragic rift somehow.
You rang?
Yes, Lurch. I'm going to the bazaar and get Pugsley's clock back.
I can't bear to see him and his father separated over such a silly thing.
Oh, dear, I do hope the bazaar people will give it back.
- Buy it back? - That's a marvelous idea, Lurch.
Oh, but don't tell Mr. Addams. I want it to be a surprise.
Yes, Mrs. Addams.
Still looking for bargains, eh, Mr. Clayton?
Well, the auction will start in about an hour.
Well, nothing very exciting.
Oh? What are you hiding back in that screen up there?
Those must be the things the Addams family donated.
- I don't know why Mr. Henson hid them. - Let's have a look.
Well...
- Mr. Henson. - Don't be absurd.
- The chin's much too strong. - Well, thank you.
Excuse me, Mr. Clayton.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, these are real conversation pieces.
I direct your particular attention to the scrollwork.
- Now, how much am I bid? - $10.
Sold.
The value of some of these things may not be apparent to the naked eye
but if you look real close...
Well, I wouldn't advise that either. Anyway, let's get on with it.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, we come to this
rather unique collection of items.
Let's first see what we have here.
Yes, oh.
There's always one practical joker at every bazaar.
And now we come to this truly rare little number.
Anyone care to offer anything for it?
Anything at all?
$10.
Did I hear $10?
- Going, going... - $20.
gone.
$20? Oh.
Perhaps you can't see it clearly.
$30?
$40.
$50.
$50? For this?
- $60? - $70.
Perhaps you'd like to come up here, where you can examine it more closely.
Awfully spirited bidding for a worthless piece of junk.
I think Henson's up to something.
$100.
$100...
Well, I must say, you are a very charitable group.
- 200. - 300.
400.
Dollars?
Do I hear a five?
Yes, the gentleman here in the front row says 500...
Would anyone else care to bid $500?
I'll give $1,000.
Morticia.
I'll give $1,100.
Is that all?
- Darling. - Querida.
Very well, sold!
To the gentleman over there for $1,100.
I love you.
Pugsley, darling, please. We tried.
Won't you come down and talk it over?
Come on down, Pugsley, lad.
Darling, I don't think he should stay up there much longer.
He might learn to love it.
That's the way it went with Cousin Slosh.
Down the city sewer in a fit of pique. Completely disowned the family.
Made a whole new life for himself.
Well, at least the bazaar people were happy.
They never made so much money before.
I still say we didn't get a fair chance at the bidding.
Mr. Henson closed it so fast.
But he's such a fragile man. Nothing but raw nerves.
We were lucky to get Thing back on the first bid.
Well, I know Uncle Fester's happy. Nobody bought his armor.
Lots of people were interested but I discouraged them.
Will you help me out of this thing?
Somebody spilled pink lemonade all over me and I'm all stuck up.
- I'll take a blowtorch to you later, Fester. - A blowtorch will roast me.
Nonsense, the heat will put a nice crease in your cuisse.
What are we going to do about Pugsley?
Lurch, wonderful.
Pugsley!
Pugsley! Here's your clock!
Oh, boy. Thanks, Dad.
And how in the world did you ever get it away from Mr. Clayton?
Did he sell it back to you?
Gave me $5 to take it.
Gomez, darling, it's been a long and difficult day.
- It's time to retire. - You're right, my dear.
I'm trying to synchronize these clocks.
Pugsley complained that his was off three seconds.
Probably got shaken up.
Some people just don't know how to handle delicate timepieces.
I think this ought to do it.
Oh, dear. The poor thing's not well.
Never fear, the old clockmaker is near.
I think I'll try this one first.
Perfect synchronization.