AN: I, SADLY, DO NOT OWN BEETLEJUICE.

November 3rd, 1998

Lydia Deetz smiled at her lover and co-worker, Adam Grisham.

"Well, that is a funny story. I never wou1d have guessed the ending!"

Adam nodded his head and took a sip of his wine, making himself comfortable on the couch. He looked at the beautiful woman next to him, as her face scrunched into somewhat of a unpleasant expression.

"Now I have a story to tell you, and it's about this ghost, that called himself Beetlejuice."

April 28th, 2014

"Come on Mommy, tell us a scary story!" Sylvia Grisham, a loud 5-year-old piped up from the bed. Her brother, three-year-od Malcolm, just nodded vehemently with the half of his face that could be seen from underneath the covers.

Lydia sighed and sat down on her daughter's bed, knowing that she would probably have to leave the lights on. Once in a while, her children would ask of her to tell them some scary story - mostly it was just her daughter picking on her younger brother. She knew that arguing would only lead to more complications - her daughter could be wicked if denied something she desperately wanted. Lydia decided to give in, and just hope for no nightmares that night.

"Well, I don't think I've told you this one before."

Her children's eyes were as wide as saucers as she continued to recount a story she may have once been a part of, or was that just a story she once heard? She could not remember anymore, as bits and pieces of her past and those couple of crazy years she spent living with her Father and his second wife were something she pushed in the far back corner of her mind.

"It is about this really wicked ghost called Beetlejuice."

January 10th, 2056

The heart-monitor beeped in the room as Sylvia Stone watched her Mother's chest move up and down underneath her hospital gown. The fragile woman lying in front of her was unrecognizable - she deterred so much in the past couple of months that the doctors already informed her that she wouldn't live to see the end of the month.

"Tell me a story, Grandma. You tell the best scary stories."

Sylvia smiled at her son, at the same time as his Grandma did. Derek loved scary stories; it was, after all, expected of an eight-year-old boy. Sylvia could see that even a tiny movement made her Mother wince, but she put on a brave face and concentrated on her Grandson.

"Well, I remember this one story... but, I am not sure if I should tell it to you. Can you promise me that you won't be scared?"

Derek nodded excitedly, and his Grandma chuckled.

"Alright then. There once was a ghost, an insane and dirty ghoul, that went by the name of Beetlejuice."

Several things happened at once, and Sylvia was useless as she could only watch as everything went to hell all of a sudden.

There was a loud popping noise in the air; the ground beneath her started to shake; her Mother started shivering on the bed and muttering something that sounded like "three times" in a panicky voice; the window behind her opened and the wind blew her hair in her face, rendering her temporarily blind.

As she moved her hair from her eyes, she noticed that Derek's face in front of her was a mask of pure shock and fascination as he pointed one hand to somewhere behind her, his eyes and mouth wide open. Sylvia turned instinctively, but nothing could have prepared her for the thing she saw.

There, in front of the window, wearing a black and white stripped suit, was a... man?

His white hair flew wild in every direction, his face as white as snow, his eyes dark and taunting. The look on his face could only be described as insane. He wore a wicked smile, and as his tongue slipped from his dark red mouth and he showed decaying teeth, Sylvia suddenly realized that maybe, after all, the stories her Mother told here were not just stories.

After his eyes inspected every inch of her body, leaving her feeling violated, Beetlejuice turned his gaze from her to her Mother and grinned at her.

"It's showtime, my undestined bride."