Chapter 8: Small Victories
"Damn it..." Beetle grumbled as he heard his bedroom door close. What in the sky blue fuck was wrong with him?! If he was any kind of man at all, he would've sent her straight to old Jerry's apartment and proceeded to bag a living wife!
He didn't, of course. No. He had to find an excuse to keep her around. Why was this happening to him of all undead people - the ghost with the most? What happened to cheap hookers and dirty bars? What happened to scaring the daylights out of the living and the dead? Hell, most of the inhabitants of the Neitherworld feared him, while the other part flat out avoided him for his lechery or profound lack of likability. Beetlejuice was not one to be keeping a chick around for the sole purpose of her company - especially a chick who had landed him in the clinker for four years! Beetlejuice was not one to get lonely! That would be insane, he mentally reprimanded himself.
He'd even turned off his beloved porn for fear of disgusting Lydia, instead of asking her to join him in watching (and possibly imitating) said porn! This wasn't HIM! And why the fuck did he admit she was nice? A poltergeist like himself didn't just go around flattering ladies on their personalities. No, someone like him would slap a bitch's ass and call it a night!
The problem was that he did intend to keep Lydia around. Sure, the woman was hot as hell, but that wasn't really it. She really was (ugh...) nice. If anything, she seemed to be the only ghost who could tolerate him. Truthfully, he'd been a bit lonely all those years. Cheap horizontal tangos and booze could only help a guy so much.
Beetle turned off his TV, tossing the remote to the side apathetically. He grunted, feeling suddenly uncomfortable in his own corpse. He then remembered Lydia's burning question. Why did he want out so bad? It was the whole dead thing. True, he'd cheated the system long ago and gained some kick-ass powers and all that, but the dead thing was just...creepy.
True, he'd been just as insufferably criminal in his previous life as he was in this one, but now he'd become a freakish caricature of his former being. He'd always loved booze and broads, but now he was a menacing, powerful poltergeist who's cravings only seemed to intensify as eternity dragged along. It was damn near intolerable at times. Nobody could stand him, and he knew it. At least as a breather, he'd had companions and fellow partakers in crime and such fuckery. Now, being who and what he was, Beetlejuice was alone. That's why he'd wanted out. If he came across to the other side - he'd get to start over.
Keeping Lydia around seemed to alleviate his loneliness a bit, and he wouldn't dare tell a soul that. He'd barely admit it to himself, but she'd been good company. Hell, she'd make a damn fine wife, if she wasn't so dead and shit. Thankfully, he found a way to keep her around, without exactly revealing why. Now she simply thought he was just being his asshole self. Of course, that could also pose a different problem. How would she ever stand him if he kept badgering her? Then Beetlejuice had to remind himself that he wasn't supposed to give a shit in the first place. He was getting out, Lydia wasn't. Whatever. It was stupid, anyway. Fuck.
Beetlejuice stood up, stretching his legs and scratching his protruding stomach, briefly trying to distract himself with something to do. Hell, there was only one distraction in that house. He promptly grabbed a bottle of half-empty whiskey from his coffee table and seated himself. Two clicks of the remote and it was back to his mind-numbingly beautiful porn.
"Hehehe...Yeah...That's the stuff..." he growled, propping his feet upon his rickety table. Amid the haze of asses and other unspeakable body parts, he found himself distracted from his original distraction - and that was just fucked up.
The apology. Did Lydia really mean it? Did she actually feel remorse for screwing him over? She'd better feel bad! He was so damned close to getting out, and she just took that from him. She'd protested, stalling just enough for Babs to ultimately turn his ass into Sandworm bait. Not only had Lydia stated her remorse, but thanked him, of all people. She thanked Beetlejuice for saving Adam and Babs, and that was something he'd never heard in all his years. She thanked him. She was grateful. That was fuckin' weird. What was he supposed to do with that? Act all nice now? Nah...
He wanted out, and that was the goal. No use wooin' a dead chick he couldn't have anyway. She was way out of his league, and he knew that. She had to be bullshitting about not getting any attention. She was fucking gorgeous. Damn she would've made a good wife, he thought regretfully.
It was at that moment that he reached his conclusion: he had no fucking idea what he was gonna do. So he swiftly decided to just roll with it - have a little fun with ole' Deetz, and get out. Simple.
Lydia opened her eyes, realizing she'd actually dozed off on that poor excuse for a bed. She raised up, wiping the sleep from her eyes, and wondering just how long she'd been out. She hadn't actually meant to fall asleep. She merely wanted to escape the likes of looking at Beetlejuice, if only for a little while. Sleep had simply been a side-effect.
Lydia scooted herself to the edge of the bed, where she sat studying the fabric of her black, sequined gown. She absent-mindedly ran her hand over an area just atop her thigh that she'd stitched back together after finding a gaping hole in the fabric there.
She pondered on how to handle this particular situation. On one hand, she wasn't getting away from Beetle any time soon. He'd made that loud and clear. On the other, he didn't want to play nice while she was trapped with him. He was cranky, belligerent, unpredictable, and downright lecherous. How was she supposed to deal with that and have any semblance of sanity left? She needed to find a way to get along with him - one that didn't include sex, of course.
However, that was the dilemma. She'd treated him as amicably as possible, and yet, he seemed to retaliate at the end of every conversation. She had to admit, she was completely lost. She'd just have to try harder and go from there. There really wasn't much else she could do. She was indebted to Beetlejuice, after all, and that in and of itself was both a paradox and a nightmare. However, she'd have to manage.
Deciding to quit stewing on her inner-turmoil, Lydia stretched, before quietly creaking his bedroom door open. She peered down the dark hallway, noting that the roadhouse had grown dim with the darkness of night. She'd been asleep all day, apparently.
Lydia quietly pattered down the hallway, noting how quiet and still the old house seemed. Maybe that asshole had passed out already. It wouldn't surprise her. Unfortunately, the TV was still blaring in his livingroom, and he was sprawled out on the couch, scratching his unmentionables and drinking a beer. He certainly was consistent, Lydia thought, rolling her eyes.
Suddenly, Beetle chuckled at whatever trainwreck of a show he was watching, while a big, juicy hamburger materialized in mid-air. Beetlejuice grabbed the tasty-looking food, shoving it in his mouth in a less than appealing manner.
"I wish I could do that..." Lydia mumbled to herself, catching the poltergeist's attention.
Lydia closed her mouth quickly, as Beetle slowly turned to look at her over his shoulder. His lips were splattered with mustard. "Er...wut?" he babbled, his mouth still stuffed with meat.
"I, uh...said I wish I could do that. You know, make something delicious and fattening appear in thin air. I know we don't have to eat or anything, but I miss the taste of food." Lydia explained, still standing in the doorway. Dear god, she'd even eat Delia's pitiful excuse for cooking at this point.
"Why can't ya? Didn't you read that handbook or whatever? Tells all about it in there." Beetle replied, chomping on his burger in the process.
"Yeah, I read it." Lydia sighed. "I tried that whole focusing my thoughts and energy thing like it said, but nothing happened. I'm beginning to think I'm restricted from those powers, too."
"Fuck, Deetz! That's like some rudimentary shit, there! What can you do?" Beetle looked at her, appearing truly baffled.
"Nothing. I've tried. I followed the handbook, word for word, but nothing happens. I guess I'm just screwed for now." Lydia folded her arms, staring down at the floor. This was probably the part where Beetlejuice would spit out his burger and laugh maniacally for the next three hours.
What happened next, however, Lydia hadn't expected.
"Want one?" Beetle asked, gesturing to his burger.
Lydia's eyebrows raised. Well, that was different. "Yeah..." Suddenly, a large, juicy hamburger materialized in front of her face. She happily grabbed it before seating herself beside Beetle.
Trying not to be detected, Lydia quickly skimmed through the contents of said burger to make sure nothing disgusting had been placed inside, as she'd expected.
"Don't worry, Babe. Didn't put any bugs in yours. That's kinda my thing." he stated, clearly catching on to what she was thinking.
At that very moment, a large beetle crawled out from the remaining contents of his food, running down his arm, and screaming for dear life.
Lydia's eyes grew wide, as Beetle grabbed the unfortunate victim, shoving it in his mouth. Chomping loudly, he grinned, with bug legs sticking out from his green, slimy teeth. "Shoulda made it well done."
Even though Lydia found it utterly disgusting, she forced herself to actually laugh at one of his idiotic attempts at humor, figuring that it could possibly lighten his mood. She'd reasoned that she could try humoring him to see if it could help her situation. Maybe if Beetle was in a less-defensive, overall better mood, then he'd quit wanting to torment her afterlife and just get out and leave her be.
Beetle just grinned, seeming content with himself. "Heya...You gonna eat that?" he asked, pointing to her burger, which was still untouched due to the fact that eating beside Beetlejuice was a horrifically revolting experience.
"Oh, yeah." Lydia smiled, swallowing hard and trying not to look at him or think of the bug guts currently resting in his godawful mouth. She hesitantly took a bite, her thoughts instantly changing to the delicious flavors she hadn't had the opportunity to taste in what seemed like forever. She just made sure not to let her eyes wander to Beetle's gross face again, so she simply stared at the TV.
"Sleep well, Deetz?" Beetle asked, seeming to try and start a conversation with her. That was a good enough start, Lydia reasoned.
"Yeah. So, why are you up so late?" Lydia inquired.
"Pffft! The ole' B-man never sleeps!" Beetle laughed, and Lydia could've sworn she'd seen a bug leg fly across the room.
"I'm pretty sure you slept the first night I stayed here." Lydia remarked.
"Passin' out doesn't count, Babe! Ole' BJ likes to party 'till he drops." Beetlejuice countered.
Lydia began to wonder if drinking and women were all Beetle thought about. Surely not. "Is that all you like to do?" Lydia asked, trying her best not to sound rude, but feeling as if she'd already failed miserably.
"Why? What the fuck's wrong with it?" his face contorted into an expression that told her he wasn't amused. He seemed rather offended.
"I mean...What do you like to do? I was just wondering..." Lydia remarked, quickly trying to keep yet another conversation from derailing.
She watched as Beetle paused a moment, his wild green eyes narrowing in on her. He then vanished his nasty burger in thin air. Replacing it was a delicate teacup on a small plate in his hand, with him now daintily dunking a teabag in said cup. He proceeded to clear his throat and furnish a particularly snobbish British accent.
"Eh-hem. I'm so glad you asked, Ms. Deetz. I like to spend my days in the garden, reading the great literary works of our time! I also study the art of interpretive dance while simultaneously learning dead languages, sipping tea, and nibbling crumpets." He spoke in a completely smart-assed manner, his demeaner growing darker and his tone of voice changing back to its previous form. "Yeah, cuz I'm ALL ABOUT THAT SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK, DEETZ?! LOOK WHO YOU'RE TALKIN' TO HERE!" he fumed.
That went well, Lydia thought sarcastically to herself. Still, she had to try. Maybe she could still turn this trainwreck around. She didn't understand why Beetle hated talking about himself, but she needed the incessant yelling and raging to stop. So, she tried something else.
"Uh...You want to play cards or something?" she asked hesitantly, feeling her face curl into a grimace from her own internal cringing.
"What?" Beetle's brow furrowed, as he sat, dumfounded. At least that stopped the yelling.
"I was just wondering if there was anything you liked to do. You know, like play cards or something." Lydia asked as innocently as she could muster.
"You play Poker?" Beetle asked, raising a wary brow.
Lydia looked over her pitiful hand of cards at the poltergeist who was currently wearing a smug grin. He had a visor on his wild head and a freakishly large cigar dangling from his lips, and he was now cackling like a madman.
"I'll take four." Lydia stated, keeping her one high card, clearly not amused with the fact that she hadn't won a single game since they'd began two hours ago. Leave it to her to play a game with a crooked cheater.
Beetle dealt her four cards, each as pathetic as the last handful.
"I'm stayin'." Beetle grinned at her, eyes narrowed and lips fixed with a crooked smirk.
"So, what do you have?" Lydia asked dully, ready to be outdone for the fiftieth time.
Beetle laughed darkly, laying down five Ace's, and causing Lydia to sigh and shake her head.
"Really, BJ? Five?! One of my cards is an Ace! Cheater!" Lydia huffed, carelessly tossing her high card at him, as he began to cackle hysterically. Playing cards with him was a truly destructive activity, given he'd always use his powers to win.
"Do you always play cards this way?" Lydia asked, partly teasing. Even if she was constantly losing, Beetlejuice's blatant cheating did make the game a bit amusing.
"It's how I win mah cash, Babe! If you had any money, you'd be broke and I'd be livin' in the lap of luxury! Haha!" he snorted, pouring himself a drink in one of two shot glasses. "Wanna drink, toots?"
"Ah, what the hell. I've already lost a hundred games of Poker. May as well drown my sorrows." Lydia smirked.
"'Atta girl! 'Bout time you loosened up a bit, Deetz." he grinned, filling the second shot glass and pushing it to her.
"Yeah, I need it. Before I crossed over, I barely drank at all." she stated before downing a shot and wincing at the burn that traveled down her throat. "I guess getting hit by a car is a good enough reason to start." she joked.
Beetle's brow furrowed, as he eyed her up and down, causing Lydia to feel uncomfortable. "Ya know, for someone who supposedly got flattened by a car, you don't look like it..." he spoke, suspicion lacing his voice.
Lydia felt tense, thinking of her final moments, and of the damage the crash had done, however easily hidden. She sensed, however, that Beetle may have been doubting the validity of her story, and that could lead to another rage fit that she didn't feel like putting up with.
"I, uh...It did leave a mark. It's just easy to hide, that's all." Lydia mumbled, knowing he'd want to look.
"Really?" Beetle continued, still not convinced. "Where?"
Inhaling deeply, Lydia stood up, watching Beetle's face fall slack. She walked over to his side of the table, pulling up her gown over her thighs, and expecting him to make some stupid-ass remark. Much to her surprise, he stayed silent, as he eyed the blood-soaked bandages around her upper-legs. The gashes underneath were obviously more than deep enough to sever a main artery. It was a gruesome sight that Lydia had often tried not to think of. However, it was there, regardless.
"Yeah..." she said quietly, pulling her gown back into place. "I didn't even know it was there at first. I didn't limp or anything. I didn't even feel it."
"One of the perks of bein' dead, Babe." Beetlejuice replied, being uncharacteristically respectful to her condition.
"I must have gotten pinned between the car and something else. I think I bled to death, or went into shock or something." she thought aloud, while Beetle took a long drag from his cigar. He seemed to be in thought.
Lydia, feeling anxious from thinking of that fateful night, poured herself another drink and sat down once more.
"Ya know, all this time I thought ya were hard to find. I didn't know you took the big leap. " he said, causing Lydia's brow to raise.
"What do you mean?" she asked, curiously.
"When I got out of the big house, I tried findin' ya. I was pissed, ya know? Wanted to scare the livin' hell outta ya. You know, payback and shit. I couldn't find ya. Guess I didn't put two and two together, huh?" he explained, causing Lydia to feel a strange feeling inside of her. Why just torment her, and not the Maitlands? Not that she wanted them to be tormented by the likes of Beetlejuice, but they had every bit a hand in his banishment as she did.
"I've never even seen my own obituary." Lydia admitted, throwing back her second shot.
"Me either, come to think of it." Beetle mused, scratching his moldy chin.
"Um...Were you gonna force me to marry you again?" Lydia blurted out, letting her curious nature win again.
"What do you think?!" Beetle grunted. "Hell, you were the closest I'd ever came to gettin' outta this fuckin' dump...I figured I'd come back and get you to pay up."
"Oh. Makes sense." Lydia nodded. "I guess I'd want out of this heap, too..." she replied, eyeing the disgusting surroundings. Then she had an idea. "You know, I could clean this place up for you." she suggested, not even sure if Beetle liked things clean. Probably not, she figured.
"Why?" Beetle inquired, looking genuinely confused. Yep, he definitely liked things dirty.
"Because...It's kind of disgusting..." Lydia hesitantly spoke the truth.
"Whatever...I don't give a shit..." Beetle shrugged, much to her surprise. It would be a repulsive task, but cleaning his nasty roadhouse would prove to make her feel better, anyway. Maybe he'd grow tired of her cleanliness and just let her help him get out already.