Movie BJ and all related characters/content are owned by Tim Burton, Geffen Entertainment, and Warner Bros. Not me.
Ok, so after three rewrites I have a chapter I actually like. I combined the existing 7 and 8 into one chapter and have slightly tweaked chapter 3 for continuity purposes. I'm alot happier with this than with the shit I've had up before now. Sorry to anyone who's read the previous incarnations of this chapter. I promise I'm done and will move on now.
"That was incredible."
My entire body was still tingling from the experience as I uncovered my head. Though Beetlejuice had returned to his regular body, I could still feel the power emanating in waves from him. It ebbed and flowed like the ocean tides, almost visible, until at last it dissipated and vanished. I stood and stared at him. He was laughing quietly.
"Thought you might like a taste of what you get when you get me," he said.
I leaned against the fireplace thoughtfully.
"You know, with your help, I bet I can run this fucker outta here."
"You're just figuring this out? Babe, with my skills I'll not only scare this breather on out of here, but the whole damn house along with him. After I'm through with this joint, the landlord will never be able to rent out another apartment."
He was cocky, that was for damn sure. But he did seem to have the skills…skills which I apparently lacked. Or at least thought I lacked...
What the hell, I said to myself. I'm dead, what do I have to lose?
"Ok," I said to Beetlejuice. "If you're agreeable to it, I'll keep ya around. God knows I really do need help."
--
Beetlejuice got to work that night.
It was about midnight. Scruffenstein had come home, collapsed onto the couch, and turned on the TV. I watched Scruffenstein cut a line of coke and snort it. Suddenly, a thin line of what appeared to be blood materialized on Scruffenstein's nose. It dripped into his mouth and down his chin before he noticed it. He wiped his face, and when he saw the crimson stain on his hand he sprinted to the bathroom. He turned on the light and when he looked into the mirror, he saw Beetlejuice's grinning face reflected back. Scruffenstein screamed and ran back out of the bathroom, looking into the mirror over the fireplace. Again he saw Beetlejuice staring back at him.
The TV began to hiss and throw sparks. Scruffenstein whirled around in time to see the screen shatter. A huge black and white striped snake slithered out of the fragments of the television, surrounded by a mass of shades and specters that began to fly moaning around the room. The snake reared and bared its teeth, smiling a hideous smile. I laughed and, to my surprise, my laugh sounded evil…like a witch's cackle. I delighted in it.
Scruffenstein heard me laugh and pissed himself. I laughed even harder as Beetlejuice's tail began to wind its way around Scruffenstein's legs. Suddenly, Scruffenstein was suspended six feet air by his ankles, staring face to face with Beetlejuice's snake head. Beetlejuice bared his teeth again and said "Boo."
As Scruffenstein began to scream, Beetlejuice dropped him. Scruffenstein recovered from the fall so fast it was like he had hit the ground running. I cackled again, watching Scruffenstein sprint from the room and struggle with the front door. The door locked itself, and Scruffenstein was faced with the snake again. Oddly the snake seemed puzzled by something while Scruffenstein, in a blind panic, ran screaming past him. Scruffenstein ran into kitchen and out the kitchen door. I ran out the front door, now unlocked, and to the street side of the porch. Scruffenstein was trying desperately to unlock the door to his truck. He looked up for an instant, and I could have sworn when his eyes met mine he actually saw me. Finally, he succeeded in unlocking the cab to the truck and Scruffy sped away. I ran back into the apartment, laughing my dead head off.
--
As he watched the ghost run from the apartment, the ghoul turned himself back into his true form. He flicked a wrist and sent the lost souls he had called up back to the pit they came from and repaired the television. He flopped onto the couch, thinking about what had just happened.
After he had dropped the breather to the floor, the ghoul had felt his power intensify. He had also felt controlled by an outside source. He had found himself locking the front door without meaning to. He also found himself locking the breather's truck door without meaning to. The ghoul now sat and thought about this, and realized where that control had come from.
The ghost. The ghost had somehow intensified the ghoul's power and had taken control of it, bending it to her will. That meant that, like the ghoul himself, the ghost was a poltergeist. The ghost, in short, had the same power as the ghoul did. And for some unknown reason she didn't know she had it.
The ghoul thought back to his death. He had known the minute he crossed over that he had these gifts. He had put them to very good use as well. Too good, in fact, as it had ended up with the ghoul being cursed.
The ghoul shook himself. Don't get involved, he told himself. Don't get personal. He felt the unfamiliar feeling return, the same as when he had looked into the ghost's eyes. This feeling, he now identified, was the one scrap of humanity left in him. And he hated it.
He chose to ignore the feeling and had assumed his normal smirking air of confidence when the ghost returned.