Cup of Tea
By Wee-Me
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Beetlejuice or his drinking habits. I do however own a teapot in the shape of a frog.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For Mad-Hatter-LCarol. Thanks for the super enthusiastic, slightly crazy, reviews and all the tea you've thrown at me. Hehehe. These 100 or so words are all for you.
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Beetlejuice swirls his cup, trying to decide whether or not to drink its contents.
His mother had always told him that the stuff was good for him, as her growing boy, and had induced him to drink it through combinations of force, bribery, and guilt. She had coaxed him into drinking it when he was ill or, if illness weakened him, simply poured it down his throat by the kettle.
It was not easy for mothers during the plague and it had made her feel better to think that she was protecting her son with her hot brews. Being a good son he had downed it all with minor grumbling, not wishing to hurt his mother by refusing the miracle liquid she had put her faith in. She had simply smiled at him, ruffled his hair, and told him that he would love it when he got old enough.
Giving in to nostalgia he chugs down his tea with a grimace before addressing the room.
"Not old enough yet Ma, guess I'm still your growing boy."
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AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: C'mon, say "aww!". I did. I love my Ronan and his mommy, it makes me squee.
