Disclaimer: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! Nope, still not mine!
Beetlejuice sat on his lumpy chair, examining a small shiny object in his hand. It was the ring he had tried to give Lydia Deetz. He hadn't quite managed to get it on her finger before . . .
That horrible, evil bitch. How the hell had she gotten on that damned sandworms back anyways? Why hadn't she been eaten instead of him?
He was mad at Lydia, for wasting his time when he was trying to marry her, but it was nothing he could sustain, nothing that he could really get furious about. The Maitland's, however, were another story. He wished they were alive, if only so he could kill them again. He grinned, imagining that scene.
Why couldn't they have just left him alone, and let him marry his pretty bride? True, she was a bit young, but mortals got older, right? They got older quickly. Beetlejuice scowled. She was probably an eighty-year-old woman by now. Time worked like that once you were dead. It just seemed to slip away.
He remembered the look of fear on Lydia's face, the look of disgust. He remembered how she had tried to shout out his name. But as he thought about it, he remembered something else that had been bothering him.
After he had uncovered her mouth, and finished using her voice, she had had plenty of time to say his name and send him back. But she didn't. The whole while that those stupid hick ghosts had been attacking him, she had just stood there patiently. He winced, remembering that he had left an opening for her. But she hadn't used it. Why? Could it be that . . . no. He wouldn't even think something like that, not to himself, not to anybody. It was too late now; he might as well accept that he would never see her again.
But the memories came, they wouldn't stop. The terror on her face when she had seen him as a snake. The look of confusion, then realization as she figured out his name. And all the many, varied looks of disgust she had given him.
He lit up, and started smoking. He scratched at some of the mold growing from under his hair and scowled. Maybe she would have reacted better if he hadn't been mossy and smelly. Breathers didn't like mold, did they?
The ring sparkled in front of him. It wasn't an unattractive ring, a thick, brassy deal, with a foreign-looking stone in it. Beetlejuice fought the temptation to toss it in the fireplace.
Finally, he sighed and stood up. A small germ of an idea blossomed in his mind. He would hold off on the bio-exorcism for now. Instead, he would try to pinpoint attractive women, and try to get a sappy message across. Something about how he was suffering, and please let him out, he needed help, or some other sappy shit like that. Then he would con them into marrying him.
He walked across the room, and slowly picked up a picture frame, turned on its face. Inside, was a rough likeness of Lydia.
He slapped it back down sharply, sighing heavily. He pulled on his suit, resulting in it becoming even more crooked.
He had to move on and forget. He had breathers to con.
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