Defeated By Nun

By Wee-Me

Beetlejuice 100 Kisses Challenge

DISCLAIMER: I do not own him with a nun, I do not own him with a pun, I do not own his hide nor hair, I do not own him anywhere. All Beetlejuice related items come from the great and powerful Burton, as I am not him that means I'm just taking them for a spin. Winston and the nuns are creations of my own deviant brain.

AUTHOR'S NOTE All I can say about this is: Llewlyn's fault. Not mine. She encouraged me and I went with it. I didn't originally intend this to be a part of my 100 K writings but here we are. This was sparked by a snippet in the third chapter of my Pieces In A Pocket and spiraled out from there.

Used Items: # 64 Rosary

Someday when he wrote his memoirs he would have to remember to leave this whole day out. And possibly kill all the witnesses, or blackmail them into submission. It had been the worst day of his life since leaving Juno's office a few years before. He had never been so embarrassed, at least not since before his death and maybe not even then. Even if Juno had given him a pat on the back and Sister Agatha . . .

Not goin' there again. Gonna get drunk. Gonna sleep. Gonna get back out into the world and do some damage. Hafta fix my reputation, can't let 'em think I'm going soft.

Earlier

The day had been going well; he was free, he was happy, and he was more drunk than he had ever been before in his unlife. He had gotten free again the night before, tricking a toddler into releasing him via mirror, and spent the night and morning having a few barrels of whiskey from a distribution warehouse in the business district. After his buzz had kicked in he had decided to go floating and enjoy being out in the world. It was pure chance that he had wandered by a dilapidated factory and been spotted by one of its occupants.

His reputation as a "force to be reckoned with", as he had heard himself called, had been cemented when office gossips had leaked the story of his banishment to the general public in the afterlife. He had even made it into the Handbook under the heading "Dangers To Your Afterlife Experience" which had increased his notoriety tenfold. And that was before he had two successful hauntings-for-pay under his belt, he thought he might call them "bio-exorcisms" and get some brand-name recognition going for himself. So it was with little surprise that he found himself summoned to the aid of some new shmuck. The only surprise was the way the tugboat passing himself off as a man addressed him.

"About time you got here, I thought you were supposed to appear immediately. I'd judge I waited at least 10 seconds for you. You can't hope to run a successful business that way."

"Now wait just a min . . . "

"I thought I just established that I don't like to wait, and as your client you will provide me with the services I require in a prompt manner. That is how business is done."

"Who said I was gonna do business with you?"

"I believe it says in that Handbook that if you are causing trouble I, as a concerned citizen, should send you back and alert the authorities. Are you going to cause trouble, Betelgeuse?"

"You son of a . . . No, I'm not going to cause trouble, lay off the B word, Chubs."

"Just so long as we understand each other. And you will address me formally. I am Louis Marcus Winston IV. You will address me as Mr. Winston. Understood, boy?"

"Oh I understand more than you know, Mr. Winston the Fourth. So whaddya need me for anyhow? If you know so much, bein' all of say ten years dead an' all, why do you need help?"

"Ah, you truly do not understand business at all, do you boy? In business you learn that some tasks are suited for delegation to underlings, unpleasant or demanding tasks that require certain experience that someone of my caliber would not have. And I'll have you know that I have been deceased for fourteen years after a life of fifty-eight years, so don't think to condescend to me boy."

"Wouldn't dream of it Mr. Winston the Fourth, sir. So what could this underling do for you so he can get the hell outta here?"

"Language boy, there's no need for crudeness. What I need is for you to use your skill set to rid me of a few pests in my factory and offices. A small religious group of some sort has decided to set up shop here and turn my place of business into a home for orphans or some other riffraff. I won't stand for it. I built this business up from the ruins my father drank it into, I made it great and I expect the same from my own heirs. Either they will use it for business or it will decay around me, I won't accept them ruining my crowning achievement over some silly do-gooding."

"So your kids wanna help the less fortunate and you want to destroy that? Nice."

"Your sass is not necessary, nor appreciated. There are three of the Sisters here now, taking measurements and what not, and you are to scare them away. Do you think you can manage that boy?"

"Oh, I think I can give it the old college try, sir. You can count on me."

"Then get to it. I expect results."

Winston turned and headed back into his office, dismissing Betelgeuse completely. The poltergeist headed deeper into the factory to look for the nuns, muttering under his breath.

"Fat shlub, talk to me like that. I should knock this whole place down, might be worth getting sent back. But I'll get the scare in first."

Down in the main part of the factory, where all of the machinery had been moved away, were three habited nuns gesturing around and describing changes to be made. What he assumed was the head nun, addressed as Sister Deborah, was a tall thin woman with an unfortunately long face prone to half-smiles. The other nuns were what some would call "underlings", taking their orders from Sister Deborah and nodding enthusiastically. The larger of the two, Sister Beatrice, was a stout woman who could easily have been a bar room brawler and stood several inches taller than himself. The third nun was completely different from the other two and caused him much distress. Sister Agatha, Aggie to Beatrice, was a tiny blonde woman with a kind face and large, soft green eyes. He thought he might be having a panic attack, until he remembered he was dead, because there before him was the spitting image of his beloved mother.

I'll do the damned haunting and then I'm outta here. I'll send myself back if I have to. I don't know if I can do this.

He started out with the classics: chain rattling, moans, shrieks, bleeding walls, etc. These were met with small gasps followed by frowns and he got that guilty feeling he always associated with nuns. He upped the ante by sending mini-twisters through the room, throwing rubble around, and ghosting through the nuns themselves. He was floating just in front of them and a bit above the floor reaching into his jacket for locusts and snakes to release as a big finale when Sister Agatha looked up at him and spoke.

"You can stop now. We know you want us out, but we are doing God's work here and we won't be stopped. The orphaned children of this city need us and we will not be moved by your trickery."

He was mid-gesture when she began to speak and could not stop his actions. She startled him badly enough that just as he released his props he lost his invisibility and popped into appearance. As the bug wings and lint fluttered down over the nuns like morbid confetti his mouth fell open and he hit the ground with a thump. Apparently his snakes had hightailed it and his bugs gone AWOL, and most embarrassing of all he couldn't close his mouth. The nuns stood a moment, and then burst into laughter as a unit. They kept on until their faces were red and tears streamed in rivers down their cheeks.

He just stood, aghast, trying to figure out what had just happened. No one had ever seen him before, not when he didn't want them to, though he knew the ability existed from his own experiences. Noticing his upset Sister Agatha moved forward and gently patted his shoulder and then his head, smoothing back his hair.

"Oh, don't look so down dear, we really were very frightened, you did a fine job. Really. Don't look so upset."

He tried to work up a scowl, but she looked so much like his mom and even sounded like her. In a minute he half-expected her to hug him, call him "poor little Ronan", and give him a cookie. He stood still and let her have her fun, taking the patting and cooing with as much dignity as he could muster. He was doing fine until Beatrice moved behind him and slid a hand down his back to cup his butt, that's where he drew the line. He jumped away and snarled at her.

"Beatrice, don't frighten the poor dear. Apologize."

"Yes, Aggie. I'm sorry, Spirit."

He was about to mouth off something when Winston appeared beside him.

"You miserable waste of space. They're nuns. You couldn't even scare nuns? Well, if you can't get rid of them I will. And if they don't leave I'll just have to deal with their precious little urchins."

Winston charged forward, faster than a man pushing four hundred pounds would ever be able to, and back handed Agatha across the face. She collapsed with a soft gasp, holding her cheek and scooting away from Winston. Betelgeuse saw red, and before he knew it he was throwing the fat monster across the factory and bellowing for Juno.

"Juno, Juno damnit, get up here now!"

Winston was attempting to lever himself up, but was no real threat, too dazed to even say his name. He moved carefully to Agatha, as if she were a skittish animal he sought to tame, and gently helped her up. He ran a light hand over her rapidly darkening cheek.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded and then smiled weakly. Beatrice and Deborah moved over to take her hands as Juno appeared, looking none too friendly.

"What now Betelgeuse?"

"Easy on the B word there Junebug. I'm not the bad guy here, that fat son of a . . . sorry, Sisters. That lump over there hit her, and he threatened to hurt the kiddies. So he's the bad guy, go yell at him."

"What children? And that doesn't let you off the hook."

"They're setting up an orphanage here, and he slapped Agatha and threatened the kids. You need to get him out of here. Plus the jerk called me boy, that should be a crime in itself."

Juno was rubbing her temples and he was a little worried that the next words out of her mouth would be his name another two times. Then her mouth quirked up at the corner.

"He called you boy? Hmm. And you didn't kill him? Did he threaten to send you home?"

"S'not funny. And yes, he did. Now can we . . . "

"Oh, it is funny, you just don't see it. So I'm guessing that the Sisters would like that man deported?"

The Sisters stepped forward and Deborah spoke for them.

"Yes ma'am, we wouldn't want him anywhere near our children. If your friend here hadn't stepped in I fear he would have killed Sister Agatha, I hope he won't be in trouble for his actions."

Juno whirled to face him and he looked at his feet.

"You came to the rescue? Well, I shouldn't be surprised . . . but I am. You can't ever just let me pigeonhole you into the monster category can you? No, you have to go and make me like you. Fine, I'll take the ham back to my office with me and get his deportation papers started. I won't punish you, but you are going home."

"Hey! You just said that you weren't going to punish me."

"Don't push it, Betelgeuse."

He frowned and moved away hoping to escape further scolding, and possibly just escape. Juno moved to speak quietly with the nuns, keeping him in her sights, and dismissed them after a long chat that he couldn't hear. As they walked past him they stopped, Deborah and Beatrice nodding to him in thanks as Agatha moved forward and grasped his wrist.

"Thank you dear and bless you. You are a good man, I can tell. I want you to have this, as a token of my gratitude. I'll be thanking the Lord for you in my prayers tonight."

She stepped up to him and placed something in his hand folding his fingers over it. She stepped on her tiptoes and he leaned down, confused but obliging. She kissed his cheek and ran a hand over his soft hair, so much like his mother. She smiled softly at him and rejoined her Sisters, they each nodded at him as they took their leave. Juno moved over to him smiling, and he thought this could be a very good or very bad sign.

"Junebug, this was a disaster, but I tried to fix it."

"Oh, B. This was your finest hour and you don't even realize it, do you?"

"Finest hour? Does that mean I don't have to go home?"

"Don't push it. You're going back, but I'm sure you'll get back out just fine. Especially if you go back to your mirror and tune it to that warehouse you raided this morning. Sometime around 11:15 tonight a worker there will be reading your name three times into the bathroom mirror. You did a great thing here today, if you hadn't gotten involved it would have been a disaster. And now you even have a fan club."

She patted his back and smiled at him with what appeared to be admiration. Wonders never ceased.

"Thanks Junebug, but this was no big deal. Besides I got bossed around by a tugboat and I couldn't even scare a buncha nuns. Where is this a good thing? How about we just keep this between us, hmm?"

"You just don't get it, B. And that makes me sad. You were a hero today. You saved the day. And now you're blushing!"

"It wasn't a big deal. I just never could stand for hitting a woman. Now let's say our goodbyes and send me home."

His face was pink and he wouldn't look at her so she relented with a sigh and hugged him. He hugged her back tightly and kissed her cheek.

"G'bye Junebug. Thanks 'bout the warehouse."

"You're welcome. Goodbye Betelgeuse."

Where We Came In

And that's how he came to be sitting in the same warehouse from the day before, drinking himself into oblivion. It was an embarrassing failure, no matter what Juno said, and if it got around to the rumor mills he'd be a laughingstock. If he wanted to survive out here, he'd have to keep this thing quiet. His soft spot for delicate, damsel-in-distress types would simply have to be kept to himself or it could get him in serious trouble.

At least Winston the Fourth got his comeuppance which was enough to make him grin a little. His smile turned sentimental as he opened his fist and gazed at the rosary Agatha had pressed into his palm. A token from a fair lady to her champion. He was no hero, he knew that, but he couldn't see what he would have done differently if he were back in that situation, other than protecting Agatha from the blow and causing Winston a lot more hurt. The idea of hunting the fat man down to instruct him on the proper way to deal with his betters, as he and Agatha and nearly anyone else in the world clearly were, held merit but was dismissed because the effort required would be a waste.

He had a sudden urge to visit his mother, her grave at least, maybe leave her flowers and then get himself into some trouble. He sild the rosary into an inner pocket at the back of his jacket for safe keeping, then stood to go. He would not come back to this town for another lifetime, Agatha's, for her own benefit more than anything else so he whispered a goodbye into the night letting his essence carry it to its intended destination. He was not truly a hero, he has admitted the defeat that no one else has recognized: his name, his power, his self had broken him like no other opponent ever had or would in the future. But if lovely women like Juno or the tiny Sister wanted to think well of him he would not stop them. He smiled then, and floated away.

Maybe I won't give up playin' hero after all.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Soooooo. Yeah. That was the "nun-shot". Let me just say that this story was more difficult to wrangle than Beetlejuice himself. I wanted humor, so it turned serious (though there are moments that made me laugh). I wanted short, so it went on forever. I wanted it to be simple, so it threw in elements from and allusions to his past. (If you ask about them I might give you a treat.) So if you have input about where I went wrong (or if you take pity and think I did something right, and bless you for that) please let me know.

Thanks for reading. Now I'm off for a nap and then I SWEAR I'll be back to my Pieces. fingers crossed