Memory/Drabble
Jan. 31st, 2021 10:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
creepyoldguy Beetlejuice sat under the dining room table, knees drawn up to his chin, sulking, and nursing a great deal of self-pity. He listened to the breathers' inane chatter. Business meetings were the same in the Upperworld and Netherworld: terminally boring. A bunch of ass-kissing and bartering for power or money, not a bit of sincerity in any of it.
His ears perked slightly when he heard Lydia's voice. Even with the short amount of time he'd spent with the kid on the roof, he could immediately tell something was up. It struck him as odd that her father didn't catch on, but, then again, parents sucked, so maybe it wasn't quite so strange. Chuckles was probably engrossed in his business plans. Kids were never as important as work, after all. He knew that full well.
Shifting slightly, rolling his shoulders in order to get more comfortable, Beetlejuice considered poking his head out to ask the kid what the hell she was planning--when he felt the air change slightly, indicating a ghost possession was taking place. Oh! So she had got the boring ghosts to help! Now he really wanted to see what was going on, if nothing else, to critique the newly deads' work. But, he remained where he was, feeling immensely jealous of the cries of dismay from the breathers who, as far as he could tell, were forced into a conga line.
It was a little lame, but, if it was effective, not bad for a first effort on the Maitlands' part.
The only trouble was...it wasn't effective. Apparently the rich-investor-type breather liked it, and saw the evidence of ghosts as a way to make cash. Which, shit, shit, shit, would probably bring some Netherworld Caseworker running, and then they would connect the dots, and he'd have to hear about it from Ma, and ugh, if she didn't exorcise him, she'd probably try to find a way to make him invisible from the dead as well as the living.
All in all, an unpleasant situation.
He barely heard the ghostly couple apologizing to Lydia, or her hysterical disappointment. Oh, why hadn't the kid agreed to let him help? She was obviously brilliant, he wouldn't have messed this up, they would have been a great team, they could have had so much fun--
"Beetlejuice!"
The jolt of his Name being spoken by the living girl was like a ray of hope he hadn't experienced in years. This time it was backed with obvious intent, making the pull all that more noticeable, unlike when she was jerking his chain on the roof. Utterly delighted, he scrambled from his hiding place, beaming at her, even though she returned his fangy-smile with a distinct 'What the hell were you doing down there' expression of her own as he stood beside her on the ruined table.
So. There was a chance this could work out after all. He meant it when he told her she'd never regret it, as much as a demon was able to mean anything they said. She was just as ignored as he was. All she had to do was say his Name two more times and by God/Satan he'd make sure those celebrating idiots saw them both.
His ears perked slightly when he heard Lydia's voice. Even with the short amount of time he'd spent with the kid on the roof, he could immediately tell something was up. It struck him as odd that her father didn't catch on, but, then again, parents sucked, so maybe it wasn't quite so strange. Chuckles was probably engrossed in his business plans. Kids were never as important as work, after all. He knew that full well.
Shifting slightly, rolling his shoulders in order to get more comfortable, Beetlejuice considered poking his head out to ask the kid what the hell she was planning--when he felt the air change slightly, indicating a ghost possession was taking place. Oh! So she had got the boring ghosts to help! Now he really wanted to see what was going on, if nothing else, to critique the newly deads' work. But, he remained where he was, feeling immensely jealous of the cries of dismay from the breathers who, as far as he could tell, were forced into a conga line.
It was a little lame, but, if it was effective, not bad for a first effort on the Maitlands' part.
The only trouble was...it wasn't effective. Apparently the rich-investor-type breather liked it, and saw the evidence of ghosts as a way to make cash. Which, shit, shit, shit, would probably bring some Netherworld Caseworker running, and then they would connect the dots, and he'd have to hear about it from Ma, and ugh, if she didn't exorcise him, she'd probably try to find a way to make him invisible from the dead as well as the living.
All in all, an unpleasant situation.
He barely heard the ghostly couple apologizing to Lydia, or her hysterical disappointment. Oh, why hadn't the kid agreed to let him help? She was obviously brilliant, he wouldn't have messed this up, they would have been a great team, they could have had so much fun--
"Beetlejuice!"
The jolt of his Name being spoken by the living girl was like a ray of hope he hadn't experienced in years. This time it was backed with obvious intent, making the pull all that more noticeable, unlike when she was jerking his chain on the roof. Utterly delighted, he scrambled from his hiding place, beaming at her, even though she returned his fangy-smile with a distinct 'What the hell were you doing down there' expression of her own as he stood beside her on the ruined table.
So. There was a chance this could work out after all. He meant it when he told her she'd never regret it, as much as a demon was able to mean anything they said. She was just as ignored as he was. All she had to do was say his Name two more times and by God/Satan he'd make sure those celebrating idiots saw them both.