Bell, Book, and Candle
Summary: Ring the bell. Close the book. Quench the candle. Time to show this prehistoric bitch how we do things downtown. An AU telling of the 1984 Ghostbusters film. Peter/Dana, Egon/Janine, Ray/OFC, Winston/OFC. Warnings: Gratuitous footnote abuse, swearing, sexual content in thought, word, and deed.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Ghostbusters; else Ghostbusters II would have been *WAY* different.
X
Compared to the last Poltergeist, the noisy spirit at the Rose Dance Club was as easy to bust as a Class III. Yes, it had harassed many of the patrons and flipped women's skirts over their heads and been a general nuisance (at one point playing Minnie the Moocher ten times in a row at full volume) but it had not started throwing furniture or turning anyone into a punching bag. 1 They had incarcerated the thing in the middle of the dance floor, Ray dramatically clearing a hole in the crowd with the throw of a trap. Being as focused as he was to not cross the streams or melt anyone's face off Egon had not really registered the size of the crowd watching them until the thunderous applause once the trap shut. There had to be over a hundred people in the club, all staring at him. Essentially the entire population of a small midwestern town had watched him run and bark orders and shoot and trap this entity. And now they were going wild.
Peter was eating the attention up like he had never been acknowledged for anything ever. Ray was tomato red but looked secretly pleased under his embarrassment. Egon just felt nauseous. He hoped the earth would just swallow him up. Except sinkholes were uncommon in Manhattan. And honestly, being buried alive was a terrible way to die.
God, now they were chanting "Ghost-Busters! Ghost-Busters!"
It took ten minutes to get off the dance floor and to the manager's office to collect payment. The crush of dancers once fleeing for their lives was suddenly on top of them, reaching, touching, grasping like they were biblical saints who could cure ailments with contact. Someone grabbed his ass.2
"Let's hear it for the boys!" the DJ had regained control of the microphone. Egon ground his teeth. Boy? He was forty years old. He hated when people infantilized adults.3
Then he realized it was a pop song.
LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE BOY! LET'S GIVE THE BOY A HAND! LET'S HEAR IT FOR MY BABY, YOU KNOW YOU GOTTA UNDERSTAND….4
"They loved us!" Peter exclaimed as the soundproof door closed, blocking out the extremely loud song and screams of enthusiastic patrons. Egon was positive he had damaged his hearing even in the brief time the music had been on. He could also feel a headache coming on, tension climbing up his back, seizing the muscles in his neck, and squeezing like a vice around his forehead.
The manager, a small, perpetually angry sounding Northern Irish man in a tight red suit was "pretty fuckin' chuffed" they'd taken care of the poltergeist so quickly and then utterly appalled by the fee, although he did eventually open the safe and pay the five thousand dollars in cash – handing over a roll of bills the size of a baseball that Peter immediately snapped up.5
"Why don't you stay the rest of the night – get some people to buy you drinks, help me recoup some of my losses, lads?" He nodded to the payment.
"Sounds perfect! Gentlemen, let's cut footloose." Peter had accepted for all of them and was half out the door in the bat of an eye.
"No." Peter, Ray, and the manager stared at him.
"What?"
"I'm not leaving the Poltergeist in the trap in the car parked on the street with all of our equipment in the back in order to permanently damage my hearing." Ray, who had been excited, suddenly looked chagrined.
"Eeg's right, Pete."
"Oh, come on! Live a little!" Stuck between the Id and the Superego Ray was visibly torn and lost – like a puppy, only sad.
"Look," Egon had reached a compromise he thought would be well received. "I will take the trap and our equipment back. You stay here and enjoy yourselves and catch a cab back."
"Spegs," Peter began as they loaded their equipment into the back of the Ecto-1. "You could always drop everything off and come back and enjoy the night. Maybe you could observe the human courting and mating ritual up close."
Contrary to Peter's constant innuendos, Egon had some practical knowledge of courtship and intercourse.6 He simply didn't have any interest in either practice if it involved overly loud, crowded bars. A walk was his more speed or going for coffee, maybe attending a new exhibition at the science museum or a public lecture - considerably quitter activities with a dramatically reduced chance of being grouped by a stranger.7
"I doubt Ms. Melnitz would appreciate all of us out carousing while she remains at the office worrying." Peter and Ray exchanged looks, ones he could not quite interpret in their current context and under the subpar lighting of a street lamp.
"It's not our fault she doesn't go home at the end of her shift. She can play for overtime all she likes, but she won't get it." Anger flared in Egon's chest. Suggesting that Janine was only invested in their wellbeing for mercenary purposes rather than a genuine concern and capacity for empathy. Completely disregarding her feelings in favor of getting drunk and dancing and utterly trivializing a sincere sign of support and friendship. Ms. Melnitz had been steadfast in her support of their enterprise since she'd been hired, even during the weeks when they had nothing but crank calls and crazies off the street come to harass her. She kept the entire office functioning and made sure the bills got paid so that they even had an office. But no, Peter enjoyed snipping at the woman about money and threatening to fire her for behaving toward him exactly as he behaved toward her.
"Considering the condition we arrived back in after the last Poltergeist, I believe her concern for our wellbeing was founded." He ground out through clenched teeth. Peter threw up his hands.
"Whatever, Man, it's your loss – we'll be drinking like kings tonight!"
Peter watched Egon drive away, his arm slung over Ray's shoulder.
"Did you see his face?! I wanted to say, "go home to the wife" but he looked like he was overloaded as it was." Peter hooted with laughter.
"Are you certain we shouldn't have gone back with him?"
"Little late for that now, Francine." Peter clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's have some fun."8
X
It took a moment after parking the Ecto-1 for Egon to pry his fingers from the steering wheel. He was still seething. Peter Venkman was his best friend since before he understood what the term meant, but sometimes he could be so…hedonistic, flippant, uncaring, selfish…his mind provided a plethora of adjectives for the psychiatrist. Worst of all Venkman had convinced Ray to say as well. Ray, who was usually so good at putting others first. Peter had laughed at him for wanting to go home after over twelve hours on his feet and drug Ray back into the bar to go chase women while he returned to the Firehouse to clean the traps, put the equipment away and take care of everything else that needed to be done at the end of a busy day.
His knuckles hurt. Looking down Egon found instead of the wheel his hands were clenched in fists, knuckles white. He took a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. There was no logical reason for him to be as annoyed as he was and yet it roiled in him.
Ms. Melnitz had been sheet white as she handed over the information, their last encounter with a poltergeist clearly vivid in her memory. Although Ray promised his "Neene" that they would be careful and that she could go ahead and go home for the evening she had demurred, saying something about maybe after she finished the filing (her desk had been nearly empty, but no one was willing to admit that fact). Her expression as they loaded into the Ecto-1 was etched into his mind.
Egon took another deep breath and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and annoyed, which given his headache was a reasonable outcome. A tea and a full night's sleep should return him to a less sour mood. 1:15am his watch read. He hadn't been up this late since his dissertation days. Sighing, Egon got out of the car and began taking care of the equipment. The firehouse was still and quiet, Ms. Melnitz's desk clean and empty, although the lamp remained on. It was odd for her not to be there when they arrived back, glasses perched on her nose as she typed, classical music playing from her radio.
Returning to the garage bay after emptying the trap Egon noticed that Ms. Melnitz's purse was still sitting beside her desk along with a pair of pink and white tennis shoes. He stopped beside her desk and stared at the bag. While not well versed in the habits of women, he was entirely confident that women who carried a purse did not just leave said purse at work when they went home. She had not gone home in the hours they had been gone, playing hide and seek with a spirit. There were no signs of a struggle which suggested she was somewhere upstairs. Egon plugged in the proton packs and hung up his jumpsuit. Given their full schedule of busts and the weather he had forgone his usual wardrobe under the suit for a pair of jeans and tee shirt. He felt practically naked, although he could be wearing less - Ray was running around in just his boxers and a tee shirt under the suit.
"Ms. Melnitz?" He called, she had not come down to her desk in the time it took him to unload and store the equipment. She was not in the kitchen, although it was clear she had been earlier, the counters were tidied, and the sink was spotless.
Egon found Ms. Melnitz in the living room, bathed in moonlight, asleep half upright on the sofa, a book in her lap. Clearly, she had not gone home but rather had seemed determined to wait for their return. And Peter did not give a damn about her concern. For a moment Egon just stared at the petite woman, her head pillowed on her arm, shoes kicked off and feet tucked under her. Did he wake her? Or would it be better to let her sleep? She looked so peaceful, her features relaxed and half illuminated by the velvet moon. She was a truly beautiful woman. He scarcely allowed himself to admit it, but it was true. He was particularly drawn to her smile, the rare instances it appeared naturally, blooming in her cheeks and her eyes. His eyes slid from her face down her body and observed her shiver. The dress she had worn was appropriate for the hot weather during the day, but during sleep body temperatures dropped. Over the back of the sofa was a large quilt a relation of Ray's had made him ages ago, the pattern was garish, but it was thick and well made. He had woken up under it more than once after falling asleep in the very same spot. Quietly he unfolded the blanket and began tucking it around her slim shoulders.
She jumped out of her skin, sending the book in her lap flying and nearly hitting her head on his jaw.
"Egon!" She exclaimed, her eyes immediately snapping to his. For a moment he thought she might lay into him for getting so close to her as she was sleeping. Her hands flew to his face and he braced for a slap. And honestly what was he thinking looming over her when she was vulnerable?
The slap never came. Instead her hands firmly grasp his face, her eyes searching.
"Are you alright? Is everyone okay? What took you so long? Did you have to go to the hospital?" She had a thousand questions, her mind and mouth working faster than the rest of her senses. She did not realize she had used his first name – the first ever. She did not see that he was perfectly fine standing before her. "Why didn't you call? I'd have met you at the hospital. I hope it's not Ray, he just finished healing-" Carefully he grasped her hands and held them away from his face.
"Ms. Melnitz." Egon began but she paid him no attention. "Janine." He tried again. It was the first he'd used her given name in speaking to her, though he found himself increasingly using it when he thought of their auburn-haired secretary. She stopped when he said her name, stopped and actually looked at him, her senses finally registering the stimuli they took in.
"No one's in the hospital." He assured her. "We are all fine, this poltergeist was not nearly so violent as the last." She stared up at him for a moment, her hazel eyes reading his face for the truth. It was not the first time someone had studied his face, he was quite used to the stares of those trying to figure out what he was talking about, others who doubted if he was serious (he always was) but none of those looks laid him bare like this one did. Outside of his usual choice of clothes he already felt vulnerable. Her eyes only made him feel more so. Danger Will Robinson, Danger!9
She removed her hands from his, awkwardly smoothing them down the front of her skirt. "Thank God. You all scared me coming home like that last time." Home. He didn't need to feel vulnerable, he was safe. He was home.
"Where's Ray? And Venkman?"
"They stayed."
"Why? Do you have to go back out?" Egon shook his head, surprisingly he felt less annoyed than before. His head still ached, and his ears were ringing a little (hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee-hi) but the tension had faded from his shoulders and hands.
"No, the manager at the Rose offered VIP bottle service all night."
"That Momzer!10 I can't believe – except I can - he'd just leave me to worry all night!" Egon felt himself smirk. Peter had been so flippant about her concern and he had told him she would be worried. "And Ray too?" He nodded. She sighed heavily.
"I came back in case you were still here. I – We – didn't want you to worry." Heat crept up the back of his neck and his palms felt damp. Awkwardly he stuck his hands in his pockets. Janine gave him another searching look, for what he did not know, but she looked away and he could not decide if that meant she found it or not.
"Thank you." She said softly.
A beat.
He cleared his throat.
"Speaking of worrying, you're planning on taking a cab home at this hour or would you prefer to stay and return home in the morning, it's late." She rubbed her eyes before examining her wristwatch. She let out a slow whistle. 2:00am.
"I didn't mean to stay this late." She said, gathering up her book and her shoes. "But-" she gestured to the sofa.
"It's a comfortable couch, I've fallen asleep there plenty of times."
"I know." Egon tried to read her face, but she refused to meet his eye and busied herself with folding the blanket. "I should head home. Thank God it's Friday."
"Saturday now."
"Either way, I won't be back in until Monday." Task complete she headed for the stairs. "Good night Dr. Spengler."
He reached out and stopped her, afraid to actually take her arm but tentatively touching it.
"How are you getting home?"
"The Subway," He opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off, "I've been taking the train all my life Dr. Spengler, I'll be fine."
"You're not the only one who worries, you know."
"I know. Would it make you feel better if I called as soon as I got home?"
X
The phone rang shrilly, causing Egon to jolt out of his dozing. He'd completed his nightly ablutions and settled himself beside the phone to wait.
"Hello?"
"I've made it home, hale, hearty, and unmolested, as I predicted." There was warmth in Janine's voice as it carried over the phone lines, he could almost hear the slight shake to her head as she spoke, clearly thinking he had been overreacting.
"I'm relieved to hear it."
"Hey, Dr. Spengler," he thought she would ring off, but she didn't, "Do me a favor – wake Venkman and Ray up obnoxiously early for me, wouldya?" A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.
"It would be my pleasure."
"Wonderful. Good night."
"Goodnight, Janine."
Across the bridge in Brooklyn Janine stared at her phone for a moment before placing the receiver back in its cradle and doing a little twirl and happy dance. The way he said her name… and he had said it twice! Her crush was so far gone it wasn't even funny, but she couldn't bring herself to worry about it. He came back to the office specifically so that she wouldn't worry – he cared! She would allow herself the rest of the night for girlish fantasy before getting a grip on herself in the morning. Janine collapsed into bed at 3am with a smile on her face.
X
"Who wants to buy me a drink?!" Peter announced himself with flourish reentering the bar. The DJ had the music going once again and the crowd had resumed its evening of dancing, the dance floor looking like a writhing mess. There were several takers and before he fully knew what was happening Ray found himself three tequila shots in, with Peter entreating a young guy in a popped collar polo to buy a round of drinks for the "heroes". Venkman walked away from the bar with a crown and coke, Ray however wanted to maintain some of his wits about him and decided to stick to beer the remainder of the night.
Crown and coke in hand Peter surveyed the bar around them, now that he wasn't actively trying to capture a ghost. It was damn near impossible to see much in the way of architectural features of the club neon lights and disco balls insufficient illumination for details. On a hot, late August Friday night the crush of people on the dance floor was more interesting than crown molding anyway. Despite the apparition earlier the club was still packed. There was a bar on either side of the dance floor at presumably at least one up the stairs that led off to the right and onto a balcony overlooking the writhing mass of dancers. At the far end of the floor was the stage, live acts could play a gig at the Rose, but it was a DJ tonight, his equipment sprawled over the riser, a girl in a body stocking and a caplet dancing on the table near the soundboard. The music, such as they'd heard thus far was an eclectic mix of Top 40 and Rock with some older stuff, including Jackie Wilson and other soul, as well as just about anything with a dance beat. Currently Lionel Richie was singing about dancing "All Night Long", before that it was "Do you love me" and Madonna Expressing herself.11 Ever the critic Venkman wished the DJ would pick a more consistent musical aesthetic but given the fact that for every person who walked off the dance floor at a song change another three squealed and ran on to boogie down to whatever was playing.
Drinking down his cocktail so it didn't spill when he launched himself into the melee of dancers to show the kids how it was done Venkman saw her across the bar – Miss Eight O'clock. Her hair was bigger and blonder than last he saw her and she was wearing what looked like a gold sequin romper and heels bigger than the average man's penis. Lord have mercy. He made his way over, finishing his drink in two swigs and handed the empty glass to a random person as he walked by. Peter ran a hand through his hair before approaching the young woman dancing with a friend.
"I AM SO GLAD I FOUND YOU!"12 He had to shout to be heard over the music, now the opening strains of "Pretty Woman". "I WAS SO WORRIED WHEN I COULDN'T MAKE OUR 8 O'CLOCK APPOINTMENT!" Miss Eight O'clock turned to stare at him, her blue eyes sweeping over him from work boot to smile. Recognition dawned on her, but not in the way he imagined.
"OH MY GOD, TIFFANY!" She grabbed her friend, an unnaturally red-haired woman in an oversized black fedora. "IT'S HIM! THE GUY I TOLD YOU ABOUT."
"PETER VENKMAN, DOCTOR PETER VENKMAN, GHOSTBUSTER, AT YOUR SERVICE!" He extended his hand with his most charming smile. Miss Eight O'clock was conventionally attractive, dressed very a la mode, her friend on the other hand definitely looked like she was in film school and working as a Warhol factory girl on the weekends.13
"AS I WAS SAYING, I'M SORRY I MISSED OUR APPOINTMENT!"
"NO WORRIES, I STOOD YOU UP!"
"AH, BECAUSE YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE GONE, I TOLD YOU, YOU'RE A TRUE PHENOMENON!"
"NO! BECAUSE I WAS NEVER GOING TO MEET YOU AT 8 O'CLOCK! HONESTLY YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO SEE YOU AGAIN? CHRIST, YOU'RE WORSE THAN I THOUGHT!"
"WHAT?!" It was horrible trying to hear conversation over the bass of Roy Orbison, but he was pretty sure she had just called him terrible.
"YOU WERE THE SINGLE MOST SEXIST, CONDESENDING FACULTY MEMBER I HAVE EVER COME ACROSS IN MY FOUR YEARS AT COLUMBIA! AND THAT'S SAYING SOMETHING!"
"WHAT?! YOU WERE FLIRTING WITH ME!"
"FUCK NO! YOU STARTED TREATING ME LIKE I WAS STUPID, SO I DECIDED TO SEE HOW STUPID YOU THOUGHT I COULD BE!"14
"WAIT," Her friend chimed in, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "YOU THOUGHT SHE HAD FALLEN FOR YOUR CHARM? I HEARD YOU WERE ATTROCIOUS."
"HONESTLY, CONSTRUCTION WORKERS HAVE PRESENTED MORE NUIANCED COME ONS THAN YOU!" The women laughed. Really and truly laughed - deep from their soul - they laughed in his face.
X
Ray loved to dance. It was one of his fondest memories of his parents, watching them dancing around the kitchen listening to Solomon Burke. His parents had belonged to a supper club that frequently went out dancing after their dinners. Music was a standard part of the Leuenberger family reunion every year. His mother had played piano in the Leuenberger family band, Opa had played fiddle, His great-uncles Klement and Joseph guitar, his cousin Keith the bass.15 He'd learned to play harmonica at fourteen and joined the band thereafter. Aunt Edwina had taught him the basics of every dance he'd ever need to know in the back yard of his parents' house on Long Island. He didn't swing much anymore but he kept up the harmonica and couldn't stop himself from singing if he knew the words. Which made fixing the car with the radio on more fun – until he realized Janine could hear his concert. She, however, never laughed at him. In fact, once she'd threatened to invite him to Karaoke night with one of her friends.16
Before he knew it, he'd gone from hovering on the corner of the dance floor, tapping his toes and bopping along with the beat, to in the middle of the dance floor cutting a rug as the spirit moved him, his eyes closed just feeling. Pretty Woman came to an end and Ray opened his eyes. There before him with a broad grin on her face was Cosette Richards. The sight of her stopped him in his tracks. Of all the people to see him dancing like an idiot!
She was gorgeous, as always, her blonde hair falling in waves around her face and over her bare shoulders. Her dress was a stunning shade of blue that complimented her eyes perfectly. It was made of some sort of slippery, shiny material that looked like water. The top plunged, giving him a view of her breasts, he desperately tried to not stare at, and wrapped around her tiny waist, the skirt fell to her ankles and looked demure until it moved and the slit to her thigh was revealed.
"MS. RICHARDS!" He exclaimed with a start.
"I'm so glad to see so many of you lovely people here tonight!" The DJ announced over the microphone, the song transitioning under his words. "And I would especially like to welcome all of the Ghosts and Ghouls who have chosen to join us here in the Rose at this time, and the Ghostbusters here to escort them out after the show! I do sincerely hope that you all enjoy the show and please remember people, that no matter who you are and what you do to live, thrive and survive -There are still some things that make us all the same: You, me … them, Everybody! Everybody!"17 A cover of Solomon Burke's Everybody Needs Somebody to Love began playing after the little intro from the DJ, which had gotten several hoots and hollers from the crowd at the mention of Ghosts and Ghostbusting.
"CALL ME COSETTE DR. STANTZ!" He heard her yell.
"WOULD YOU LIKE TO DANCE?" What the hell, he was a couple deep, on the middle of a dance floor with couples all around and it was Blues Music. His music. Cosette looked at his extended hand and took it with a smile.
"I'D LOVE TO!" Of course, after making such an offer he had to follow through. He nearly died when he put her hand on her back and found nothing but bare skin under his palm. It'd been a long time since he'd done anything like a partner dance and this cover of Everybody Needs Somebody to Love was fast, but eventually he found his feet enough to lead. For her part Cosette as a fantastic dance partner. Once they found their rhythm she followed him effortlessly adding her own flare where she could – a kick, a twist, a shimmy.
"YOU ARE PHENOMINAL! WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO DANCE?"
"The Savoy!"18 He looked at her hard, trying to read her lips, but they were distractingly full and pink that he couldn't figure out their words.
"WHAT?"
"FRANKIE MANNING TAUGHT ME! WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO DANCE?"
"MY AUNT EDWINA!" He spun her out and pulled her back into his arms as the DJ broke in over the record again.
"You know, people, when you do find somebody, hold that woman, hold that man! Love him, please him, squeeze her, please her! Hold, squeeze and please that person, give 'em all your love! Signify your feelings with every gentle caress, because it's so important to have that special somebody, to hold kiss, miss, squeeze, and please!"
"PREACH!" Cosette shouted over the din and dissolved into ebullient laugher. She was probably a little drunk, but then so was he.
"WHAT BRINGS YOU OUT TONIGHT?"
"MY FRIEND EMILY'S 25th BIRTHDAY!" 25. It hit him like a punch to the gut. 25. That was way too young. What was he doing? She must have noticed his change in demeanor, the fault in his step. "SHE MAKES ME FEEL SO OLD." He studied her face as the song came to an end.
I need you, you, you, you! I need you, you, you, you! I need you, you! I need you!
"BUY YOU-" She began to say.
"RAY WE NEED TO GO!" Peter found them on the dance floor, his face thunderous.
"WHAT?" Cosette shook her head, a sad smile on her lips.
"I'LL SEE YOU LATER DR. STANTZ." And with that she disappeared into the crowd. Ray rounded on his friend. Peter was practically vibrating with anger.
"WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!"
The entire cab ride home Peter barely spoke, but Ray did hear him mutter under his breath a few times, "Laugh at me, will they?!" Ray decided he should leave further inquiries for another time.
1 Minnie the Moocher is a classic big band, scat song performed by the indelible Cab Calloway. It involves the call and response style in which Calloway would get the audience to repeat increasingly more complex vocal improvisations. One of the many versions of this song, and of Calloway's performance style is in the 1980 film, The Blues Brothers.
2 Blatant self-insertion.
3 You and me both, Eeg.
4 Let's Hear it for the Boy, Deniece Williams, Footloose Soundtrack, 1984.
5 The Rose Manager is 100% based on Robert Carlyle's character in the film Dead Fish, Danny.
6 Re: Egon's virginity, because yes, I think about it. I can totally see him being a virgin until he and Janine get together because he's got his priorities straight and their Science, Snacks, and more Science. However, I could also see him making ONE attempt at things when he was like 20 something as a minor act of rebellion and curiosity that went exactly nowhere, and he gave up after that.
7 I am dying for a scene in which Egon takes Janine out to like an exhibit on fungus and he completely geeks out the whole time and people give them all kinds of looks cuz she's dressed for like a date and he keeps monologuing about stuff but she can't bring herself to be upset because he looks so goddamn cute when he's passionate about something and so they actually have a really great date.
8 Peter Venkman, Professional Bad Influence (TM)
9 "Danger Will Robinson" is a line from the 1960s Lost in Space. I doubt Egon was allowed to watch much television in his youth, but I figure such an iconic line probably was used enough around him by like Ray and Peter that he gets the reference to a degree. Put another way my parents used it so much when I was growing up that despite having not seen the show it pops out of my mouth on occasion.
10 Momzer, Yiddish for a conniving and untrustworthy bastard.
11 I would not make a good DJ, pretend these songs would flow together in some way.
12 I'm sorry for the gratuitous use of caps lock but they're YELLING because the bar is very LOUD. This is the reason why I stopped going to clubs almost the minute I was allowed into them.
13 If for no other reason see the film Factory Girl (about Andy Warhol, Edie Sedgwick, etc.) for the fashion. So much chic mod fashion.
14 Basically, I imagine Miss 8 O'clock having signed up for Venkman's experiment out of honest interest, got in the room and realized he was having both her and the other test subject on and got fed up with it so decided to conduct her own social experiment. Venkman played straight into her hands by assuming she was both too stupid to realize he was lying and coming on stronger and stronger. Hypothesis proved: Men are Trash.
15 Opa is German for Grandfather. If Ray has some Swiss heritage there's a good chance they spoke German. My mother's side of the family is extremely musical, especially her Mother's generation – sadly now all deceased. Every Boldra family reunion the "band" got together, basically any family member that could play an instrument, and they'd distribute song books and do requests for the last hour or so of the reunion. If you didn't play you had to sing – or dance. My great-Uncle Oscar was NOT shy about grabbing someone and teaching them a two-step out in the yard.
16 One of these days I'm going to write a story about Ray and Noelle doing Karaoke and discovering their mutual love for jazz, the blues, and soul and she starts working Ray into her act. I absolutely must write a scene where Ray performs "Rubber Biscuit" at Karaoke (Ackroyd performs it as Elwood Blues, check it out sometime). It becomes an inside joke between the two of them to the point that Ray will sneak up behind Janine at work and just say the words "Rubber Biscuit" like he does in the song and she dies laughing. Egon is both confused and jealous of such developments.
17 This is a blatant riff on Elwood Blues' lines in the film.
18 The Savoy Ballroom, was THE ballroom for swing music and dance, located on Lennox avenue between 140th and 141st streets in Harlem. It has a fascinating, and important place in the history of Lindy Hop and Jazz music. It's where Frankie Manning and the other members of Whitey's Lindy Hoppers perfected not only the Lindy Hop but also the Mambo and Jive. The Savoy is also where Chick Webb defeated Benny Goodman's orchestra in the first "Cutting Contest" in 1937. Webb went on to defeat the Count Basie Band in 1938.