Chapter 9

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Beetlejuice franchise nor do I make any money from this. I simply enjoy using the characters for my own twisted amusement.

-There will be a reference to Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. A cookie cutter family show from the mid 1950s. I'm sure you can guess who BG is referring that to.-

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It took a few minutes for his exhausted wife's breathing to slow and deepen, indicating she had fallen into the depths of slumber. Carefully, the poltergeist removed himself from the bed, twisting around to pull the covers over his sleeping family. His fingers brushed along his wife's jawline and bent down to kiss her soft lips. He then moved to his napping daughter and gently brushed the blonde strands away from her face before stepping back and blinking out of sight.

The poltergeist suddenly reappeared right outside of the entrance of the sitting room and juiced himself a cigarette. If he was to deal with these fuckers alone and rationally, he was going to need it. Hell, he was gonna need a beer after all this shit; fuck, he should juice one now, though the in-laws would sure love that and would most likely bitch about it too. Not that the specter gave a flying fuck what those bastards thought, but he didn't want them causing his little wife any grief. She was already stressed about things that could go wrong in the pregnancy. As the dead man told his wife this morning, nothing was going to happen not with his juice coursing through her and his offspring veins. It didn't matter what he or anyone else said though she would be nervous, nonetheless. He'd be damned if he'd let her extended family add to it.

Bringing the cig to his lips, he sucked in a deep drag of smoke and released it slowly. These assholes were more of a pain then they should be. You'd think they'd be happy for their kid. For fuck's sake, she was happily married to a man that would never hurt her and expecting their next grandchild. Those fuckers should be grateful that the woman was still breathing and not six feet under. Though now that he was thinking about it, he wasn't too thrilled that they left her unprotected against some abusive cunt. What the hell were they thinking?! If someone did that to Bug, he'd slaughter them. A sneer twisted his features as he glared at the empty doorway and started to walk through it. 'Let's get this shit over with.'

The dead man spied the twosomes sitting across from one another, clearly discussing what they had just spoken to them about. He also noticed the old bat had dropped out of sight. Presumably had to go back to the Netherworld and deal with all those boring and whining stiffs. That's what fucking happens when you're on a short leash you got to come when they yank.

Betelgeuse juiced himself a chair and turned it around to straddle it. He cleared his throat and watched the fools ceased their conversation. They whipped sharply in his direction and went from being comfortable to nervous in a split second. The poltergeist couldn't help the delight that played on his lips. 'Fuck yeah. Maybe this shits gonna be fun after all.' The Glasgow grin widened at the thought, and if he hadn't had a cig, his hands would be rubbing together deviously.

The amused man took another puff of his cigarette and leaned over the back of the chair. He released the smoke, waving his cig at them as he started to speak. "Let's not drag this shit out. You don't like me and to tell ya the truth, I don't like you all very much either." The cig went to his lips again, pulling a long drag before continuing, "Unfortunately, Lydia does, and I don't want to upset my pregnant wife. No need to be in the fuckin' dog house, cuz of you folks. So I propose we make a deal. I'll be civil towards you all if you're all willing to be civil towards me."

The poltergeist's green eyes traveled to the shocked faces then went back to his father-in-law when Chuck cleared his throat and for once, bravely voiced his opinion. The portly man shook like a leaf and stuttered his words. "I...I...I'm still not sure about you, but m...m...my pumpkin is, s...s...so....as long as you swear to treat m...m...my little girl and granddaughter right t...t...then I'll agree."

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