Chapter 9: Strange Games

Beetlejuice laid back on his old recliner, watching Lydia desperately brush the filth from his carpet into her dustpan. Her pale skin was splotched in dirt, and her long gown was clearly being a nuisance to her. It was, however, quite hilarious to watch her little ass squirm about, attempting to clean the endless refuse he'd piled over the years. She obviously wasn't aware of the fact that he could flick his wrist and make the whole place spotless in an instant. Of course, he was having too much fun watching her struggle to tell her any different.

Lydia stood, nearly tripping on the long fabric of her gown and spilling the contents of her dustpan before she emptied it in a nearby trash can.

"Havin' trouble there, Deetz?" he smirked, watching her turn and glare at him. Damn, she was hot when she was agitated. "How 'bout I give you somethin' a bit more comfortable to work in?"

"That would be nice..." Lydia seemed to like the idea. "I wish I'd died in something more comfortable - like a pair of jogging pants or something."

Smirking deviously, Beetle pointed a finger at her like a gun and pulled the "trigger", watching her gown turn into a sexy French maid outfit. She looked down in horror.

"That's what I'm talkin' bout..." he growled suggestively, watching her glare daggers at him.

"That wasn't what I meant, you asshole. Now, please, change me into something decent." she stated coldly, clearly not amused.

"Nah, I like ya better that way..." he continued, loving every moment of her discomfort.

"Look, I just want to clean this stupid house! I'm tired of seeing nasty crap everywhere I turn! Now, put me in something that doesn't have my ass hanging out!" she fumed, losing her cool. Man, she was even hotter when she was full out pissed!

"Okay, okay. No need to get your frilly little french panties in a knot." he muttered, changing her into some jeans and a shirt.

She paused a moment, studying her new attire, before nodding in approval. "Whew...That's better. Now quit pestering me and let me get this place livable."

"How 'bout I do us both a favor..." he smirked, as the place instantly cleaned itself in a matter of minutes. Lydia simply stared in awe of her shiny, clean new surroundings before shooting him a sharp glare.

"You mean you could do that the whole time? You watched me clean for half a day!" Lydia huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Couldn't resist, Babe." he grinned widely, content with himself for making her day a bit more frustrating.

"Yeah, well, atleast it's clean. Besides, I guess I deserved it, considering you're still a bachelor..." she chuckled good-naturedly, shaking her head. That was unexpected.

How was he supposed to make her life a living hell if she kept being nice all the time? How was he supposed to ditch her if she kept making him (ugh...) enjoy her company? This whole attachment thing was getting out of hand, and he fuckin' despised it. He needed to shake her, and fast. What he needed was to get back to his roots - show her what a disgusting pig he really could be. Then she wouldn't want to be so nice. It was the only way he could stop this dumb shit behavior and get out.

Suddenly, a malicious grin spread across his moss-encrusted lips. "Heya, Babe," he called, grabbing Lydia's attention. "I'm takin' you out tonight."

"Do I really have to wear this?" Lydia grimaced, looking at the tacky leopard spotted party dress she'd been placed in, complete with bright red four inch stihlettos. She could barely walk in those hideous shoes.

"Rule number three, Babe. Gotta do what I say. We made a deal." Beetle threw an arm around her shoulder, nearly causing her to lose her balance. Lydia looked to him in disbelief. He was wearing a ratty old tuxedo, with an apparent attempt to slick his wild hair back (which was failing miserably).

"Fine..." Lydia sighed. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Beetle grinned, squeezing her tightly.

Before she realized what had happened, she opened her eyes, seeing a large building with the words, "The Bloody Mary" blinking on the front of it. She should've known.

"Another bar?" she looked to Beetlejuice, giving him a look that showed clear irritation.

He pulled his arm away, clearly seeming offended. "Not just any bar, Babe. This is the hottest nightclub in the Neitherworld. I've got more ass here than all the other places combined!" he snorted proudly, straightening his tux.

"Good to know..." Lydia mumbled, as Beetle grabbed her by the arm, leading her through the crowd of various ghouls. As they passed through, Lydia could hear the women making comments as they walked by.

"Oh, God. Not him again."

"You won't believe what that asshole tried with me last time.."

"He asked me and when I wouldn't he asked if my mom would!"

"Prick..."

Hearing the mutterings of various women, Lydia glanced at Beetle, who acted blissfully unaware of their less than flattering commentary of him. He then stepped up to the bouncer, who was a large, muscle-bound fellow with treadmarks etched across his chest.

"You again? Didn't we throw you out the last three times you've been here?" the bouncer asked, his lip curled up in an unsatisfactory snarl.

"Uh...Nope, think ya got the wrong guy. Probably looks like me or somethin'." Beetle shrugged, acting casual.

The bouncer was clearly not falling for it. "Sure, buddy. Now get out of here."

"Okay, okay! It was me, and let me just say, that those women asked for it, ya know what I mean? A broad with her tits and ass hangin' out is just dyin' to get one of 'em squeezed. I was just givin' em what they really wanted." he explained, seeming desperate to get in.

"Nice try. Now get." the bouncer replied, not budging.

"ALRIGHT! HERE!" Beetle fumed, slapping a wad of money into his hand.

The bouncer smirked. "Right this way, sir." he gestured, as Beetle and Lydia walked in.

Lydia scanned the club, noting just how humongous it was. The ceiling was impossibly high, with strobe lights and smoke everywhere. Strange electronica music blasted throughout the place, with various drunken and horny occupants bumping and grinding on each other. Lydia scowled, not really wanting to be in such a place.

"C'mon, Babe. Lemme buy ya a drink." Beetle linked his grimy arm in hers once more, dragging her to the bar.

The barkeep, a man with a screwdriver lodged into his temple, simply gave Beetle one look before rolling his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Gimme the strongest thing ya got." he demanded, slamming his hand on the counter before turning to Lydia. "Whaddya want, Dollface?"

"Uh..." Lydia barely had a second to choose, when Beetlejuice interrupted.

"Make that two of the strongest thing ya got!" he declared, turning and giving Lydia a predatory glare.

"Looking to get thrown out a fourth time, are we?" the barkeep smarted off, before returning with two large bottles with skulls on the front of them. "Very well, then." he scoffed before turning to Lydia. "You couldn't possibly be with him by choice. What'd he do, trick you?"

Before Lydia could reply, Beetle glared at the barkeep. "Mind yer own damn business..." he growled. Lydia nearly smirked, thinking of how true that statement was on so many levels. Beetle turned to Lydia, grinning proudly. "So, whaddya think about the place?"

"Its...uh...certainly loud, and really full of drunk people, I guess." she shrugged.

"I know. It's beautiful, ain't it?" he beamed, throwing back his drink and guzzling it hard.

"So, did you really grab all those women's asses?" Lydia sniggered, taking a sip of the powerful liquor, which burned like fire, causing her to cough and sputter.

"Yeah, well they were givin' me all the signals." Beetle muttered, placing the blame off of himself as usual.

"Like what, breathing and making eye contact?" Lydia chuckled, instantly feeling loosened up by the insane amount of alchohol in her drink.

"Aren't you a little comedian?" Beetle sneered, while Lydia suddenly realized that he hadn't really treated her that way. Sure, he'd make an occasional remark or do something suggestive to irritate her (he was Beetlejuice after all), but he didn't ever do enough to get himself slapped. Then she couldn't help but wonder why. He really was a mystery.

"Is this your favorite place?" Lydia asked honestly, still finding herself wondering about the poltergeist who'd almost forced her into marriage. She couldn't help but think that there was something more to him than his awful personality revealed. Truthfully, under his crass behavior, which seemed feigned in the first place, she really didn't find him to be so bad. Of course, everyone else in the Neitherworld seemed to hate him, but maybe they were just falling for his tricks.

"Eh...One of 'em, I guess..." he muttered, not very enthusiastically, while lighting another smoke. Geeze, he smoked a lot. "Passes the time." he stated, as Lydia sensed a bit of boredom and possibly some other peculiar emotion she wasn't quite sure of.

"You know, Eugene used to take me to nightclubs a lot when we were dating. They were more his thing, I guess." Lydia admitted, remembering how she never seemed to fit into his lifestyle.

Beetle looked to her, surprised. "Eugene? That was that shithead's name that left you standin' at the altar? What kind of fuckin' name is that?" he spat, looking none too happy about hearing of her possibly ex-fiance.

"Yeah, Eugene Havard. At least the last name wasn't so bad. I thought Lydia Havard had a nice ring to it, at the time..." she admitted.

"Yeah, well I like Deetz a hell of a lot better." he glared off in the distance, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Of course you would. You wanted to find me and get out again." she laughed, feeling the booze getting to her. "What would I be then? Lydia Juice? Haha..." she chuckled, amused by her own tipsy thoughts and not considering at all who she was talking to.

"Oh, it's funny now, is it?" Beetle smiled deviously. "It wasn't so funny when I was locked up in fuckin' solitary confinement for four years for makin' a deal with the living..." he growled, finishing his drink before standing up from his barstool. "I'll be back..." he grumbled, heading off to the dance floor and leaving her alone.

Lydia instantly felt like a scolded puppy, hunkering over her delightfully intoxicating drink. She was making such progress, too, and now she'd slipped up and pissed him off again. He'd probably never let her go now. "Ugh..." she placed her face in her palms, leaning on the counter.

"What the hell are you doin' with him?" the barkeep leaned in, raising an eyebrow. "I know he didn't just get a pretty thing like you out of nowhere."

"Um...I actually owe him. I kind of broke a really big promise, and I'm pretty much indebted to him until he decides I've made up for it." Lydia moaned, taking another drink.

"So, you two aren't together?" the barkeep inquired, smirking.

"Oh, god no..." Lydia winced, watching Beetle hit on some unfortunate woman from across the room.

"Heh...Well, he sure seems to think so." the man chuckled, making Lydia become confused.

"Why would you say that?! He's trying to pick up women right now!" she gestured to Beetle, who was currently getting slapped across the face on the other side of the room.

"Don't let him fool you, honey. He never takes a woman out anywhere - deal or not." the barkeep said slyly before walking away to tend to his other inebriated patrons.

Lydia sat, dumbfounded, watching Beetle carry on across the room. She giggled when he invited himself to sit between three young ladies, only for them to get up and promptly walk away. Was it true what the barkeep was telling her, or did he simply misread the poltergeist? Was that why Beetlejuice had been acting so strange? Then again, he always acted strangely, so there was no clear answer for her. Is that why he'd come to "pay her back" when he thought she was still alive?

He was still an unbearable ass, but it was clear to her that he didn't treat Lydia the same way he treated others. Maybe it was all because of their deal. Maybe not. Why was she even thinking about that in the first place? Lydia shook her head, ridding herself of those strange, putrid thoughts.

"Hey there, beautiful..." Beetlejuice slid closer to a woman with her eyebrows burned off and her hair standing on end as if she'd been electrocuted. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' in a place like this?"

The woman grinned, sparks of electricity shooting through her hair. Beetle eased on over, putting an arm around her, as static from her body caused his poorly fixed hair to stand on end again. "Let the ole' B-man buy you a round, eh?" he asked, as the woman shyly nodded.

This was gonna be good, Beetle thought. That'll teach Deetz to shit all over his misfortune. She'd see that he was capable of getting women, and that she wasn't the end-all, be-all to his happiness. A little jealousy might put her in her place, he mused. Besides, he might get a little unpaid ass in the deal, and that was a plus in and of itself.

Finishing her large bottle of mind-numbing alchohol, Lydia was beginning to feel really good right about now. The music, the strobe lights, the drunken idiots dancing and making out and puking everywhere - it all seemed so magical all of a sudden.

She spun about on her barstool, scanning around the club. Was Beetle still there, or did he finally say fuck it and leave with someone? That would be all fine and dandy, except for the fact that she had no idea how to get back to his place. He'd find her soon enough, she reasoned. He wouldn't let her back out of a deal this time.

Feeling pretty lively, Lydia stood up on wobbly stilhettos, prancing about the bar to find him - or anybody to possibly dance with. Might as well, she figured. She was stuck there, after all.

She heard someone whistle at her from behind, turning to see a man about her age with a gash in his skull. Other than that, he was pretty cute.

"Hey there. You wanna drink?" he asked, smiling charmingly.

"Uh...sure, that sounds fun." Lydia nodded, grinning, partly because she felt completely shit-faced. Why not? Beetle was having his fun somewhere.

Beetle grimaced, rubbing his lips after he'd laid a big one on the electric chick. This broad had to be the single, most terrible choice of women to make out with in the whole club. Everytime he tried to make out with her, he ended up feeling like he was french kissing a fuckin' cattle prod. Sex with her was probably a terrible, horrible freakin' idea. He didn't want his dick turning into a char-broiled kielbasa in there.

"What's wrong?" the woman pouted, sparks flying everywhere.

"Uh...It's not me, it's you!" Beetle blurted out, jumping up off the lounge sofa and disappearing into the crowd.

Well, that freakin' sucked. At least ole' Deetz probably got an eye-full. Maybe he would make her feel like shit now. If not, hookers were always plentiful enough.

"What the..." Beetle stopped, seeing Lydia schmoozing it up with some young punk at the bar. They were laughing and having a good time. It was enough to make him puke, actually.

"I see how it is...Two can play at that game, Lyds..." he spat, looking into the darkest recesses of the club, where the "paid help" usually lurked, waiting for their customers.

"You're gorgeous. I can't believe no one asked you for a drink yet." the young man smiled, in what Lydia felt was an attempt to butter her up for sex later. That's all these places were about, really. Eugene really should've never took her out in nightclubs when she was alive. Sometimes he'd disappear like Beetlejuice did, and she would worry and feel deeply insecure. He was a DJ, after all, while she was just a boring editor for the local newspaper. Nothing exciting or thrilling there. No wonder it didn't really work out. However, she'd expected it from Beetlejuice, and she wasn't actually with him as anything other than a personal slave, so it didn't have quite the same effect.

"Well, believe it..." she muttered, now feeling a bit low due to her upsetting memories.

"Say, uh...Who was that crazy guy with you earlier? Is he your boyfriend, cause I've heard some crazy stuff about him. I wouldn't want to piss him off or anything." the young man spoke nervously.

"No, why?" Lydia asked, frowning.

"Because he's heading this way, and he looks really pissed..." the man stood from his seat, backing away.

Lydia felt a cold hand grab her arm, spinning her around on her barstool. She met with wild, green eyes and Beetle's evil grin. "What're ya doin' there, Deetz?"

"Oh, uh, this is...uh..." she pointed to the young man, realizing she didn't know his name.

"Randy." he spoke nervously, still backing away from her.

"Yeah, this is Randy. We were just talking and..."

"Just talkin' , huh?" Beetle growled. "C'mon, it's time to go, Deetz. I got a hot date wantin' to come back to my place an' I ain't gonna keep her waitin', if ya get mah drift."

"But, I was having a good time!" Lydia pouted, against her better judgment. Hell, everything she did was against her better judgment at this point. She was wasted.

"Now, Deetz!" he demanded, pulling her up. She realized she could barely stand by this point, since she'd added more alchohol to her bloodstream. She nearly fell into Beetle, who had to grab her around the waist to keep her on her feet.

Beetlejuice looked to the young man. "Scram, kid..." he growled. Randy nodded eagerly, scurrying out of sight.

Lydia had to hold on to Beetle to keep upright. "Woah, Babe. You're more shitfaced than I am." he remarked, appearing shocked.

"You're wasted, too?" Lydia slurred.

"I'm always wasted, Deetz!" he growled, trying to keep her from falling. "Now come on, there's a hot chick out here and she's comin' home with us, so just be quiet and stay outta my way, okay?"

"Okay..." Lydia agreed, feeling the need to sleep immediately. Next time, she'd have to lay off the booze. Beetlejuice was a terrible, terrible influence, she concluded.

Lydia was already sprawled across the sofa, when Beetle and his "lucky lady" came back into view. Of course, even in Lydia's immensely drunken state, she could easily tell that was no lady. The woman had more of a five o' clock shadow than Beetlejuice, and that was saying something. Apparently, he was as drunk as her, and way more stupid in general.

"Darling, you think you're little friend is going to be okay?" the obviously male hooker asked, pointing to Lydia.

"Eh, she'll be fine. She's had way too much to drink, and believe me, that chick is a featherweight, so it didn't take much." Beetle rambled on. "You, uh...wanna finish up in my room?"

"Haha! You think you can handle it, sugar?" the male prostitute purred, rubbing his big, calloused, manly hand over Beetle's cheek, causing Lydia to snigger. Oh boy, was he in for a surprise, she thought. Of course, unless he was into that kind of thing, which was no big deal. However, he'd be horrified if he wasn't, and that would be hilarious. Lydia couldn't help but hope for the latter situation to be true.

After the exchange of a few more lewd comments, the two had slipped into his bedroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She couldn't help but be reminded of the times when Eugene would be a little too touchy or flirty with the other women in the club. He was a bit of a local celebrity, so he had a few groupies, who would cling to him, and he'd occasionally let them.

She remembered being much happier when she first met Eugene, as he was charming and charasmatic, and made her feel excited and alive. All that changed when he continued his flirty, womanizing ways. She realized just how much he'd worn her down. She didn't like herself before she'd died. She didn't even recognize herself anymore. She'd become so clingy, worried, and dependent on him for her happiness. And Beetlejuice was right, she was mildly stalking him before she'd been hit by that car. He didn't want her, and that hurt. She even realized he may have been using her just for the free advertising spot she'd given him on her newspaper. His business had doubled after they'd gotten together.

To boot it all, she died looking for his skeezy ass! She felt so helpless now, and so very alone. Now she was stuck with Beetlejuice, and she didn't know when she'd feel good about herself again. Trying to hold it in any longer did no good. Hot tears began to pour from her eyes, as she wept, partly from the booze, but mostly from the pain. She had no one to lean on, either. Barbara, Adam, and Charles were unreachable, and she'd even cry on Delia's shoulder if she could right now.

Unfortunately, her sadness ruined the moment she'd been anticipating, as a terrified yell came from the back of the roadhouse, followed by the crossdresser walking out with money in his hand and a smug grin on his bright red lips.

"Sweetheart, I can't get back out the door. It's chained shut again." the man called sweetly, as Beetle came scurrying in, throwing his hands up and breaking the chains. "You sure you don't want me to do anything for you, honey?" the prostitute asked, seductively.

"Er...uh...nah, that's okay..." Beetle stumbled over his words, clearly terrified. "Just, uh...changed muh mind. Not feelin' so great ya know. Probably drunk too much booze to uh...get it up..."

"Okay, sugar. Call me." he said suggestively in his deep baritone voice, before leaving.

"Whew, that was close..." Beetle sighed with relief, watching the door close and instantly chaining it back before wiping the sweat from his crusty brow.

It would have been insanely hilarious, had Lydia not felt like garbage. She quickly wiped the fresh tears from her cheeks, hoping to hide her condition from the one ghost who'd surely exploit it in some way.

However, Lydia hadn't been quick enough in her plight, and Beetle caught a glimpse of what she was doing. Lydia turned her head away, hoping against hope not to hear his grating voice start cackling or taunting her.

"Uh...You okay there, Deetz?" he asked, surprisingly, without any hint of malice.

She sniffled, looking shamefully pitiful. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just had too much to drink."

"Hey, uh...He didn't mean nothin' to me. Promise." Beetle grinned sheepishly, attempting to make her laugh, and it did work.

"Oh no, it wasn't that. I was just feeling all bad and cruddy about Eugene. I'll feel better tomorrow." Lydia reassured him, hoping he wouldn't get all angry again.

"I told you he ain't worth your time, Babe. The guy was an asshole. You're better off without him and his dweeby name." he scolded, before his features softened uncharacteristically.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to see that now." Lydia agreed, wiping the remaining tears away.

Beetle's eyes narrowed. "What was his last name again, Babe?"

"Havard..." Lydia replied, watching Beetle rub his chin and smirk, before looking back to her. "Uh...You seem like you need a good night's sleep. You can take the bed, Deetz." he suggested, causing Lydia to feel a little better.

"Thanks, BJ..." she said, attempting to stand and nearly falling to the floor in the process. "Uh...Could you help me?"

"Yeah, sure..." he muttered, holding her up.

Beetlejuice took one last look at Lydia Deetz, forced roommate, passed out in that ridiculous outfit he knew she'd hate. He grunted, pointing his finger at her and turning it into a comfortable pair of black and white striped pajamas.

He'd previously meant to evoke jealousy and rage in the young woman, only to trap himself in his bedroom with a tranny. Apparently, it wouldn't have mattered anyway, considering Deetz was already depressed about the other shithead she almost married. Good ole' Eugene Havard - he'd have to remember that name for later use.

Truthfully, Beetle shouldn't have cared about Deetz or any of her shit, but he did, and much to his distaste. And that damned feeling came out again when she joked about being his wife. Maybe she didn't mean to piss him off, but she did. Even more so, when she was getting all friendly with that young punk. Just where did Deetz get off making light of her fucking him over! Would it really have been that disgusting to be his wife? Well, maybe, but he wasn't that awful. He was just a bored, pissed off guy who wanted out of a place where nobody gave a shit about him.

Among those who probably didn't give a shit, was Lydia Deetz. Why did he even think about keeping her around in the first place? It was clear she was miserable, and for once, that fact wasn't bringing him sheer uninhibited joy. Just seeing her so sad and miserable, well, was just depressing in his book.

The poor dame got a shit deal in life, and in death, thanks to Beetle himself. If it wasn't for his trickery while she was just a girl, she would have never made a deal she didn't want to keep, and she would have had a much better afterlife. Damn that feeling. What was it? Guilt? Well, he sure as hell didn't like it.

Maybe it was time to let her do what she'd promised, so she could get far away from him like she probably wanted to.

Beetlejuice sighed, sulking through the house. No wonder he didn't like feelings. Those things were a real bitch.