A Dish Served Cold
by
Owlcroft

"Beetlejuice, help!" It was a voice he'd know anywhere, and would never fail to respond to.

"Lyds? Where are you?" The ghost threw his head from side to side, seeing no one. He'd been idly window-shopping and was standing in front of a derelict storefront next to an alley. Her voice came again, frantically this time.

"Please! Help me, Beetlejuice! No, please, stop!"

He flashed into the alley, looking for her and seeing nothing but darkness and trash. "Babes!" he yelled desperately. "Where are you?!" He was frantic now but couldn't sense her anywhere.

Then he heard a giggle and a slight movement overhead alerted him so that he looked up and actually saw the bucket of water falling on him.

ooooo

Lydia arrived at the Roadhouse only a short time later to find him still trembling and swearing, obsessively swiping at his hair and clothes with a towel to make sure he was dry.

"Beej, what on earth . . .?" She stood aghast at the pool of water on the floor surrounding him.

The ghost became silent, then a faint pink, then turned away from her, throwing the towel from him in a fit of embarrassment and rage.

Ginger spoke up from the kitchen doorway, where she was fetching a mop. "It was the Viscous twins, Mück and Yück. That's supposed to be pronounced Mook and Yook – I think their family's from the Ulps – but everyone calls them Muck and Yuck. Anyway, they dumped a bucket of water on him and then he showed up here, yelling and dripping all over the place."

Beetlejuice muttered something, then said it louder. "They imitated your voice – you calling me, panicky, scared-sounding. So I went to save you." He shook himself suddenly, like a dog. "Then I . . . then this happened." He gestured at himself, scowling.

Ginger was wielding the mop with vigor. "Oh, you big baby. So you got a little damp," said the spider, covering her real distress with an air of unconcern and casualness. "Lydia, honey, he wasn't drenched. He managed to dodge some of it."

At that point, Beetlejuice vanished with the usual slight implosion of air.

Ginger finished mopping as she explained that the twins were the dread of the Neitherworld right then. They were practicing for the next Pranksgiving and no one was safe from them. A security guard at the Booseum of Modern Art had been glued to the wall and framed, like a portrait; Booseum officials had had to cut him loose. Someone else thought they were lighting a birthday candle, but it was a stick of dynamite instead and they ended up in the hospital.

"And then that poor man who was told he'd won a free suit. He showed up in Cavil Row to collect it and the twins ripped all his clothes off and told him he'd won a 'birthday suit'. If it hadn't been for some kind people nearby . . ." Ginger shuddered. "They're the worst, Lydia honey. The absolute worst."

When Lydia asked if the police hadn't been called to any of these so-called pranks, Ginger frowned and shook her head. "No one will testify against them; they won't even press charges, because the twins warn them they'll do something even worse if they get in any trouble with the police."

"Well, I think this might be the last straw for those . . . those hooligans. Pranks aren't supposed to hurt people; they're not supposed to be malicious." She frowned. "I'd better check on Beetlejuice."

When she knocked on the door to his room, she heard only a low growl, but took that as an invitation to enter. She found the ghost perched on the side of his coffin, hunched over and staring at his clenched fists.

"Are you okay, Beej? It must have been horrible for you."

He shook his head. "Thought you were in trouble, in danger. Then . . ." He sniffed and glared off to the side in rage and chagrin.

She approached him quietly. "Would it help if –"

"It's not fair!" he said viciously. "It's not fair for them to . . . to use you like that. To use what I . . . to use that against me. It's not fair."

Lydia put a hand on one of his fists. "No, it isn't. I'm so sorry it happened."

"I was soaked, I was sopping, I was sodden, and . . . and saturated," he snarled, still not looking her in the eye. "I'll get even with them for this!"

"No, Beej. We'll get even with them for this." She rubbed his hand gently. "You know what I think about revenge. It's natural and only human – well, not just human, I guess – to want to get revenge when we've been wronged. But it's bad for both parties. That psych class I took explained that it can warp both the victim and the perpetrator." She saw him begin to shake his head in protest. "But in this case . . ." she added, "I want revenge."

ooooo

The duo plotted and planned. Patience was hard come by, especially for Beetlejuice, but Lydia counseled him that waiting longer would be more satisfying.

"Besides," she told him, "if you're going to get revenge on someone, you need to do it right. And revenge is a dish best served cold, you know."

"Don't know who said that." He wasn't as surly a few days later, but hadn't been truly happy or at ease since the 'incident'. "I think revenge is good any time you serve it, even as leftovers."

Two weeks later, a huge, gaily-wrapped package, complete with purple bow, appeared in the Viscous twins' front yard. One called to the other excitedly and they ran to open it, not noticing the suspiciously smooth, sandy area in front of the box. But when they stepped on it, they realized what it was and looked at each other in horror.

"Quicksand!" said Mück.

"Do something!" said Yück.

At that point, the top of the box flew off and the sides fell with a resounding clatter to reveal a coldly-smiling Beetlejuice and a grim Lydia.

"Well, well," purred the ghost, "what have we here?"

"Two idiots in trouble, I'd say." Lydia leered at them evilly.

The two idiots looked at each other in horror, then began babbling apologies and explanations and pleas for rescue.

Beetlejuice regarded them seriously, then noticed two of their neighbors leaning over the fence and watching with interest. "Hey, what do you think?" he called out to them. "Rescue them or let them sink?"

"Let 'em sink!" shouted one.

The other nodded in agreement and added, "Slowly, so we can enjoy it!"

Lydia chuckled. "There you have it – the voice of public opinion about your so-called pranks." She bent over to stare into Muck's eyes. "What you never understood is that it's not a prank if it's not funny, or if somebody gets hurt. Now look at you two. Is this funny? I'd guess the people you've hurt sure think so."

The crowd was growing, as was the laughter and approbation at the unfolding situation.

The quicksand was up to the twins' armpits at this point and they were starting to panic. "Please," one begged. "We won't ever pull any more pranks."

"Never!" said his brother earnestly. "We've learned our lesson. Please get us out, I'm begging you!"

Beetlejuice looked at Lydia; they considered for a brief moment, then shook their heads in unison. "Nah," said the ghost. "I don't think so."

Lydia concurred. "We'll stick around, though, and wave goodbye. Isn't that nice of us?"

The ever-larger audience laughed at that and a patter of applause was heard. Various shouts of 'let 'em sink' and 'too good for 'em' and 'they're vicious not Viscous' were heard with a few more vulgar comments.

After a few more seconds, as the quicksand rose to mouth level, the noise from the twins stopped, and Lydia looked at them critically then turned to Beetlejuice.

"Beej, didn't we say when it got to their noses, they'd be able to touch the floor?"

The twins' eyes bulged in hope.

"Floor?" said Beetlejuice. He appeared to ponder that, then smacked his forehead with a palm. "I knew I forgot something! I didn't put a floor in, babes."

"Oh." She was phlegmatic about it. "Okay."

"You know, I still think a nest of Hyper Vipers would have been good. Instead of the quicksand, I mean." They watched the twins straining to keep their heads craned far enough back to breathe. Finally, one minute later, Beetlejuice sighed and waved a hand. "Okay, fine. There's a floor they can reach with their toes. Too bad."

The crowd clearly felt so, from the boos and catcalls and objections.

Lydia waved at them placatingly. "Look, they're the bad guys, right?" she called. "We can't do things that they would, or we'd be bad guys, too. And I'm sure," she bent over to stare directly at the twosome desperately putting their weight on their toes, "they won't ever cause any more trouble. Right?"

Sluggish waves pushed out as two heads were nodded. The waves hit the edge of the pit of quicksand and rebounded, splashing the twins, to the sustained applause of the crowd of former victims.

Beetlejuice cackled loudly and extended a hand to Lydia. "Our work here is done," he proclaimed.

She nodded, grinning, then leaned over to whisper to the twins menacingly, "Don't you ever even think about using Beetlejuice's relationship with me – his feelings for me – against him again. Or I'll be back."

ooooo

"That felt good." Beetlejuice was grinning and snortling, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction, once they were back at the Roadhouse. "It wasn't just fun, it was . . . satisfying. It was a great idea, babes! But . . ." He turned suddenly serious. "You said it was a bad thing, that revenge isn't good for people."

She took his arm and led him to the couch, perching there herself and waiting for him to settle next to her. "It isn't good for people, generally. But there are good parts to it. You know how great you feel right now, having 'gotten even' –" she made air quotes, "with the Viscous twins. That's one of the positive parts to revenge. But there's something else, too, something I never thought of before I took that class."

He studied her carefully. "You feel great about it, too, right? I mean, they used you – your voice and our . . . friendship." He fell silent and stared across the room. "They took advantage of me by using your voice and making me think –"

"That really made me angry, yes. It made me extremely angry." Lydia put a hand on his arm, then drew it toward her and slid her hand down to hold his. "But the other good part of revenge is if it teaches someone something. And I think we did that today. Those twins were being so hurtful, so irresponsible, that someone had to do something about them. And we did. I don't think they'll pull any more pranks – at least not for a long time."

"Better not," was the muttered response. Then Beetlejuice looked at their entwined hands. "You know what really bothered me wasn't the water so much as . . ." After a brief hesitation, he said, "I thought you were scared, being hurt. I couldn't find you."

"I am so sorry, Beej. It was very, very wrong of them."

He frowned down at their clasped hands. "Yeah. To take what I . . . um," he stopped to clear his throat loudly, then muttered, "to use what I . . . how I . . . think of you, to try to hurt me with something that important . . ." He shook his head slowly. "That was . . ."

"It was cruel," said Lydia. "It was wrong and terribly cruel, but it didn't change what we have, what we feel. It didn't affect it at all."

He shook his head again, even slower, as he considered. "You sure?" The frown grew a little. "I mean, it didn't change how I . . . think about you. So that's okay, right?"

"Of course it didn't. Nothing can change how we feel about each other except us." She squeezed his hand. "Nobody but us."

After a few seconds, he whispered, "Nobody but us," and gave her hand a gentle return squeeze while a small, contented smile appeared on his face.