The large and loud city of New York was busy one summer, on a Thursday morning. In fact it was always busy no matter what season, but for some reason it was busier than normal. The streets were packed and moving painfully slow, hordes of people walking across the street every time the white man appeared next to all of the red lights, and the coffee shop lines stretched out of the small cramped stores. In the center of all of this chaos was Central Park. It was of no concern to most people and no one really walked through it any more, except for the homeless, musicians, painters, photographers, writers, drug dealers, and sick perverts who wanted to fuck every woman that came in sight.

Across the street from the beautiful Park were two shop's, one was a small restaurant that had many delicious meals for a low price (which is probably why they were so popular) and the other, a small coffee shop that sold every kind of coffee that you possibly could get and was somewhat better than a Starbuck's. In between these two buildings was a small alley way. And I am of course quite sure that if you had asked about it to anyone walking past it, they would simply look at you the same way a deer looks at a truck just before it gets run over and ask you "What alley?"

Of course if they would have had the time to look down the alley and not have kept going with their faces in there Blackberry's, Cell phones, Video games, iPod's and of course the new iPad, they would see that it was quite long and small houses (if they were not all painted in different colors) looked like they were chiseled there by an extremely talented artist.

Down on the third to the right was a deep green colored house which held quite a bit of pride to itself. Inside was actually larger then what it had shown in the front. There were five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a study room, a living room, a kitchen, and two dining rooms. In one of the rooms, on the second story, was a room in which our story finally begins.

The room was a strange one. The walls were pure white and covered with maps that came from National Geographic magazines. The floor was a cold and hard wooden floor that was extremely light colored, same with all the furniture, except for a large dark wood cabinet that held dozens of sad and mournful books. On the desk were Bridal magazines and pieces of a shredded up newspaper sprawled all over it, as well as the night stand. The bed matched the rest of the room, with its bright pink bedding and its white headboard, except for the many ripped up and sewn back together teddy bears that seemed to have heaved themselves over a lump in the strange bedding.

The black alarm suddenly went off and it almost sounded like it was screaming at the lump to get up off of its lazy ass. An arm shot out from amongst the teddy bears and bedding; searching for the horrible noise. The arm over shot the alarm clock and made the lump (it was attached to) fall down onto the ground. The lump laid there for a few moments, while the alarm still went off, and started to try and break free from its hellish bright pink cocoon. It succeeded and sat up. It was a young woman of twenty-three years of age. She had straight, dirty blonde hair, and her eyes were a lovely bright blue. She was small and petite; her skin had a soft peach color to it and she had soft pink lips. She wore a black T-shirt with large letters spelling out BRIDE, black underwear, and her finger nails were painted black. Too many people at first glance, (if it wasn't for what she was wearing) would think of her as a dumb blonde. She stood up from where she was sitting and sluggishly headed for the bathroom.

"Time to get ready for this hellish life Ellen." she mumbled before closing the door behind her.

Two months earlier.

I am not exactly sure of where exactly the Neitherworld is nor understand exactly how I've been there, but I do know that when you think about the Neitherworld, one would normally look down. So, when Beetlejuice was sitting down in waiting room three and staring up at the ceiling with great concentration, one might say he looked like he was staring right through the ceiling and all the way to the Outside.

He looked like he usually did, except he didn't have as much moss growing, smelled a little bit better then he normally did, his teeth were clean from him picking out all the beetle legs and wings, and he wore his favorite black and white suit instead of the old red and purple suit that he had worn when he tried to marry Lydia Deetze. But of course, he was very forgetful with names (unless they were a friend) and so it wouldn't surprise anyone if he had forgotten her's.

He was in that same position now for over four months and looked like he might have been stuck if it weren't for his long fingernails clicking against the arm rest of his uncomfortable chair. He finally looked away from the ceiling and looked down at the long strip of paper that sat on his lap. 9,998,383,750,000 were the numbers that seemed to laugh at him as he read. He knew it was a punishment from Juno. There was no fucking way there could have been so many fucking dead people. It was a sick and torturous punishment that would have made him go insane; if he hadn't already lost his mind 400 years ago. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of all the times he out smarted her and how she always punished him, just because she was stupid. He looked down at his wrist and looked at the four watches.

One was a watch that told how long he had been dead. This of course was off by a couple hundred years, since he swiped it from another ghost.

The second one told the date instead of the time.

The third told the time. Like any other old watch.

And the fourth told nothing, it was out of batteries and the only reason why he kept it on his wrist was because it was a Rolex.

He looked around the room in a lazy manner and noticed that the guy, who was sitting next to him, had a black tuxedo on as if he was going to a wedding, but that wasn't what really caught his eye. It was the branches that seemed to have been growing out of the back of his arms, legs, back, and head that really had gotten his attention. Beetlejuice stared at one of the branches on his arm and noticed the roots were connected to his veins.

"Excuse me." said the tree man with an annoyed look on his face.

"What?" asked BJ, feeling a bit hurt at his irritation.

"It's rude to stare." the man said, before he looked away from BJ with disgust frozen on his face.

"In case you haven't noticed. We're dead, and being polite can only go for so many years. You know what I'm saying?" he said, pausing for a response. "Fine you don't want to answer. So, what happened to you?"

"I got into a car accident."

"Nice, were you on your way to a wedding?"

"No, from it." said the man.

"Number ninety billion, three hundred and fifty-six thousand, two hundred and ninety-two." called out a slimy looking woman who had a wet black bikini on and a few piranhas stuck to her skin.

Beetlejuice had tried to hit on this new receptionist, but stopped after her boyfriend came to see her and saw him hitting on her.

"That's my number." said the tree man as he stood up from his seat. He kept his handbook with him as he made his way through the door and out of sight.

Beetlejuice kept to himself, he couldn't bother anyone because for some reason they had decided to make a place in the Handbook for the Recently Deceased, on how to make him stop talking. He still found different ways to make people irritated, but was pretty bored of it. So he sat there lazily and soon went back to his busy schedule of now staring at one of the plain and cheesy lamp's that illuminated the room.