Movie BJ is owned by Tim Burton, Geffen Entertainment, and Warner Bros. Not me, much to my sorrow. I've sort-of quoted the movie again, and I again take no credit for those quotes. As I said, Beetlejuice and all related characters/content belong to Burton, Geffen, and Warner. Don't sue me.

I friggin hate this chapter too. I dunno...I'm hoping my hate of this story melts away or else I may never finish it.

The ghoul had been watching. A rookie mistake. It was pretty obvious she didn't know what the hell she was doing.

"Better for me that way," he thought to himself.

Still, it didn't do to let your new mark get snapped up by a Sandworm and sent back to Juno's infernal waiting room. He cracked his knuckles in preparation.

--

I was up off the ground faster than you could say "the HELL?!" This was definitely not my front lawn. I glanced around in fear and saw nothing but wide stretches of yellow sand. It colored the shirt and jeans I was wearing. This was obviously not ordinary sand.

The ground around me started to vibrate. I spun around, trying to find the source of the vibration. Nothing but sand and craggy rocks surrounded me. Then I saw it.

The sand rippled in front of me like waves in the ocean. I stared for a moment, and then ran the fuck away. I didn't know what it was, and I wasn't about to stay and find out. As I ran, I screamed for help. My voice echoed, almost mockingly, sounding higher and higher pitched with every echo. I chanced a look behind me and saw the ripple coming closer.

For one wild moment, I remembered reading Dune and thought if I stood still whatever it was wouldn't find me. I skidded to a halt and stared at the ripple. It didn't stop. With horror, I watched as the thing under the surface broke through. It was hideous. It was an immensely huge, purple and white striped sand worm. It opened its mouth, and another head popped out and howled at me.

"Holy fucking Christ, it IS a sand worm!!"

I turned to run, but some unseen force grabbed me around my waist. I struggled against it, filled with a desperate fleeing panic, but it held me fast. It hurled me bodily over the Sandworm in the direction I had come from. Before I could blink, I landed heavily on my porch, all the wind knocked out of me.

I lay there for a minute, trying to remember how to breathe. After a few gasping minutes, I remembered I didn't need to breathe anymore and jumped up. I was quite definitely back on my porch, and there was no Sandworm following me. I stood staring at the lawn for a few minutes. The slam of a car door brought me back to reality.

I ran to the street side of the porch and saw Scruffenstein pulling away in his truck. I sighed as I finally began to relax a little bit. Attempting to brush the yellow off of myself, I walked wearily back into the apartment.

The thought of laying on Scruffenstein's futon filled me with revulsion, but I needed to lay down and the front door lead into the bedroom. I flopped down and started crying. It was all just too much. I lay there, bawling my eyes out, for a full ten minutes before I realized I could hear someone laughing. Someone in the next room.

I leapt up and ran into the living room, but there was no one there. Or so I thought. I stood staring for a few seconds before I heard someone speak.

"Aww boo hoo. Widdle baby afwaid of a Sandworm?"

The voice cackled again as I wiped my eyes on my sleeve.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked. I wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"I'm the Ghost with the Most, babe."

I glanced carefully around the room, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

"Oh yeah? So what, now I have a partner or some shit?" I muttered, still looking for the source of the voice.

"Oh for Chrissake, what are ya blind? I'm right here!"

A huge, red arrow suddenly appeared above the fireplace, pointing to my New York City model and blinking. I looked closer and saw him finally. And I thought Scruffenstein was a scruffball…this guy, sitting on top of one of the buildings, looked like he invented the scruff lifestyle. He was about as big as a GI Joe action figure and wearing a black and white striped suit. His hair was a bright yellow blond and his eyes glowed emerald green. He smoked an impossibly long cigarette, much like Juno's and the ones that Juno had given me. He epitomized the word dingy. If you looked up the word disheveled in the dictionary you would have seen his picture. He wasn't dirty necessarily, just unkempt…to say the least. I started to laugh.

"Woah, dude, what happened to you? Somebody throw you into a dryer on high for a couple hours or something? Perhaps we had a run in with an overzealous head shrinker?"

I collapsed onto the couch laughing. Blondie crossed his arms and gazed at me.

"Oh, so we're funny now. Maybe you'd like to have another close encounter with a Sandworm?"

He snapped his diminutive fingers and I found myself back in the desert. With no couch to support me I fell on my ass.

"Not funny!" I screamed. "Not funny at all! Bring me back!"

The scenery whirled around me and I was back in the apartment.

"What the fuck, dude? Did Juno send you here to fuck with me or something?"

"Juno? That dried up old bitch? No way, babe, I'm freelance. You seem to have a problem, and out of the kindness of my heart I buzzed along to help you out."

"Don't need any help, thanks. Go find someone else to inflict your tiny self upon."

"Aw, I'm hurt babe. Here I've saved your afterlife from a sandy fate and you can't even trouble to say thanks?"

"Yeah, I have a name dude. You call me babe one more time and Imma squish you like a spider."

Spikes suddenly appeared sticking out all over his body.

"Try me, babe."

I was running out of snappy comebacks so I switched tactics.

"Juno said I'm not supposed to ask for help from anyone but her. And who says I need help anyway? It's my first day on the job, cut me some damn slack here! I'm still getting used to the idea of being dead."

"You actually listen to that withered old prune? Babe, we're gonna have to shake you up a bit, get you to break a few rules, or you're never going to survive your afterlife."

"What's to survive? I'm dead, right? Not much else can happen to me, can it? And for the love of God, would you please call me Jenn?! I HAVE a name, fucking use it!"

"Death, believe me, is not the worst that can happen. Or did you not notice the Sandworms?"

I sighed.

"Talking to you is like talking to a five year old. I'm going to go lie down and try to get my bearings. Have fun running around New York."

"Aren't ya going to get me out of here?"

"Get you out of where?"

"C'mon. You really think I'm three inches tall normally? Get me outta here and we can discuss scare tactics."

"Get you out of where? My model? How'd you even get in there to begin with?"

"All you gotta do is say my name three times. Quick, easy, and painless."

I had to admit, I was curious about this tiny asshole sitting on top of my building. I also had no clue how I was going to haunt Scruffenstein. I mean, it was bad enough I had to live with the dude who had killed me…I also had to come up with a plan to scare him? The book was no help, and waiting another three years in Juno's waiting room to get some help wasn't my idea of a great time. I decided to play along with Blondie.

"Ok, so what's your name?"

"I can't tell ya."

"Why not?"

"Well…I'll level with ya. I'm not the most well respected ghost in the netherworld. I've been cursed. The only way to let me out is to say my name three times, but I can't speak my own name. So you're gonna have to guess."

"What…like, charades or some shit? Yeah, ok, I'll buy that…for now. It's not the weirdest thing I've heard or seen lately…" The last was a whispered afterthought to myself.

Blondie held up one finger.

"One word?" I guessed. He nodded.

He tapped his arm twice and then held up two fingers.

"What? Oh…two syllables?" He nodded again. Then he turned himself into a bug.

"Bug? Insect? Umm…beetle?"

He turned back into his tiny self and held his finger to his nose.

"Ok…first syllable is beetle. Next?"

He turned himself into a carton of orange juice.

"Orange juice."

He turned back into himself and pinched his finger and thumb together, indicating that it should be a shorter phrase.

"Umm…well it's either orange or juice. Orange?" He shook his head. "Ok then it must be juice." He clapped and nodded.

"Right on babe! You're pretty good when you wanna be. Can you believe the last chick I played this game with guessed "Beetle-BREAKFAST?"

I laughed.

"Ok, so your name is Beetlejuice. And I just have to say it two more times and you're out?"

"That's how it works, babe! Lay those magic words on me!"

Without even questioning why he might have been cursed, I said it.

"Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice!"