B.J. Specter - Beetlejuice for President

For Laura

Copyright 1992 by The Geffen Film Company.
BEETLEJUICE, characters, names and all related indicia are trademarks of
The Geffen Film Company 1992
Book series developed by Dan Oehlsen, Lary Rosenblatt & Barbara Stewart
Art direction by Fred Gates Design
Cover painting by Greg Wray
Interior Illustrations by Ernesto Coln
Edited by Lucy Rosendahl
Special thanks to Ruth ashby, Lisa Clancy, Gina Bonanno, Karen McTier, Rand Brenner, and Laurie Pessell
ISBN 0-671-75552-8
First printed February 1992

RetroReadingTime.com

#1
BEETLEJUICE
FOR PRESIDENT

MINSTREL BOOKS

Lydia Deetz trudged up the front steps of her house. What a boring day, she moaned. Nothing's ever new in Peaceful Pines. This town was born old. She pushed open the front door with a sigh.

A blinding light hit her eyes. A shrill whistle pierced the air. The house shook. Dust whirled in small tornadoes all around the floor as a huge, striped locomotive raced down the stairs, heading straight for Lydia.

Lydia rolled her eyes. Beetlejuice, she said.

The locomotive flipped head-over-wheels and turned into a mischievous ghoul with yellow hair, purplish skin, green rotting teeth, and tattered clothes. The ghoul slammed into a wall, then bounced to his feet. Ta-dah! he yelled, throwing out his arms. Then, clutching his sides, he collapsed to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Lydia rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh herself.

She actually looked forward to Beetlejuice greeting her in strange ways when she came home. His antics were always welcome after a long, dull day at Miss Shannon's School for Girls. As far as Lydia was concerned, Beetlejuice made her house the one bright spot, or maybe dark spot, in all of Peaceful Pines.

You shouldn't make so much noise, Lydia said. My parents might come to investigate.

Don't worry, babes, said Beetlejuice, picking a bug from between his teeth. Charles is the only one inside, and he's watching television.

Lydia laughed. When her dad, Charles, was in front of the television, nothing disturbed him.

I'll tell you, Lyds, Beetlejuice continued, I know I seem a bit wild. Hair began sprouting from his face, as he changed to a wild beast. But I need a release of some sort. Steam shot out of his ears. I mean, being a ghost used to be a blast. Now I can't find a soul with any afterlife in it. It's hard to find a ghoul who measures down to yours truly, the ghost with the most. It's lonely at the bottom, Lyds.

Lydia giggled. Well, just stick with me, Beetlejuice. We'll find some fun in one of these boring old worlds mine or yours.

I'm with you, babes, said Beetlejuice as he balled himself up into a wad of gum on her shoe.

Beetlejuice! Lydia complained, trying to scrape him off her shoe. Stick with me, not on me! Lydia's black shoes were the only thing she liked about her school uniform. At home, Lydia normally wore nothing but black. Black tights, black T-shirt and leggings, black cape. Miss Shannon's School for Girls, though, made her wear a boring red plaid uniform. She improved this outfit with her own spider pin, bat-shaped barrettes, and tarantula necklace.

A loud banging captured their attention. Yikes!, yelled Beetlejuice, leaping into Lydia's arms.

Bang! Bang! Bang! The noise came from outside.

Frightened, babes? asked Beetlejuice.

Lydia dropped Beetlejuice and went to look out the window. Delia's in the backyard, said Lydia. Delia was Lydia's stepmother. She had developed many peculiar ways of showing how much she missed living in the city since the family moved to Peaceful Pines a year ago. Lydia didn't much care where they lived. But if they hadn't moved she would never have met Beetlejuice. He haunted her room and had become her best friend.

What's she doing? asked Beetlejuice.

I don't really know, Lydia confessed.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall inside her head, Beetlejuice mused, sprouting huge antennae, bug eyes, and lacy wings. He shrunk down to a tiny size and landed with a buzzing noise on Lydia's nose. There's got to be plenty of room there.

But her head's so thick, giggled Lydia, looking cross-eyed at the black-and-white shaped fly. It's probably pretty hard to get inside. Let's find out what she's up to.

She blew Beetlejuice off the tip of her nose. He flipped back into his normal size and shape and smacked his fist into his palm. Hey, Lyds, he declared. Ill come along in disguise. Beetlejuice made it a point not to let Lydia's parents see him.

What kind of disguise? asked Lydia.

I don't know, said Beetlejuice. I'll have to stretch my imagination. He grabbed his ears and pulled until his head was three feet wide and three inches high. Then he let go. His head slapped back together. Got it! he cried, shrinking himself very small. Ill go as your hairband!

Lydia loved the idea. She grabbed Beetlejuice and wrapped him around the shaft of hair that stuck straight up from her head. Then she went outside.

Delia Deetz was humming while she hammered. Bang! Bang! Bang! A pile of wood, many sheets of cardboard, and some cans of paint were at her feet. Not the things Delia normally hammered. Those things-the old wooden blocks, wire, tin cans and the like-were strewn about the yard. Delia considered herself a sculptor, though all of her odd contraptions were either falling apart in the yard or gathering dust in the attic.

What's this? asked Lydia. Sign sculpture?

Hmm? said Delia, turning around. Oh, Lydia. No, of course not. I'm making campaign signs.

What are you campaigning for? Lydia asked.

Oh, they're not for me, Delia replied. They're for your father. He's running for town council.

Lydia scratched her head. Does he know this?

I've told him, said Delia.

You mean ordered him, Beetlejuice said under his breath.

Delia gave Lydia a suspicious look. What was that, dear? Your voice sounded kind of funny.

Sorry, said Lydia, clearing her throat. I've got a frog in my throat.

Ribbit, croaked Beetlejuice. He turned himself into a frog and jumped off Lydia's head. With the hairband gone, Lydia's hair fell down over her face.

I was talking to Nadine Hemlock of the Sugar Maple Society, said Delia, and she said it was important to get someone on the town council who would keep developers from building too much in our quaint little town. Since your father has dragged us all to live here in Peaceful Pines, he might as well make a contribution.

But Mom, said Lydia, brushing the hair out of her eyes. Since when have you cared about developers and Peaceful Pines?

Ribbit, ribbit, Beetlejuice croaked happily. He jumped around Delia's and Lydia's feet.

Delia seemed not to have heard him or Lydia. And it so happens, she continued, that the town council is also considering putting a new sculpture in the town square. Don't you just think Charles would be the perfect person to choose a sculptor?

Oh no, moaned Lydia. Now she understood. Delia didn't care about developers. She wanted Charles on the town council to make sure they chose one of her sculptures to display.