The Beetle Bride (ON HOLD)

Chapter Eleven; Lunatics in Love

*Authors Note**
Okay, so this might seem like a short chapter compared to the last few I've posted, but I wanted to keep it short(ish) in order to write the scene in two halves because it's so long. Whilst writing this, I incorporated the way in which Lydia's teacher took a shine to Beetlejuice in the cartoon, and also I want to keep things slightly ridiculous. Like the film. Because that's part of what makes the movie so damn good.
As usual, please don't be offended by any of Beetlejuice's dialogue. It's just how he is, a rambling, crazy SOB (but we love him)
Lastly, HUGE thanks to everyone who has voted/favourited and commented. You guys RAWK! 
Hope you enjoy xD

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"Beetlejuice!"

The all too familiar name penetrates Lydia's ears, making her cringe, but there's something about hearing it screeched by Delia, that makes it so inexplicably funny. She didn't laugh but a smile was curling around her lips, causing Delia to grow even more aggravated.

"Do you think this is funny? Do you? Because I don't see any reason to laugh!"
She chided, one gloved hand flying to her hip.

"I'm not laughing."
Lydia pointed out defensively, failing to hide the detectable smile in her voice.

"She's not laughing."
Charles added helpfully, forcing a tight smile of his own.

"What were you thinking? Why? I mean him of all the dead people! If you wanted to draw a dead person why not choose Elvis or someone at least a little easier on the eye! What on earth possessed you Lydia?"

"Not him I hope."
Charles chuckled clumsily at his own joke, which earned him a scornful look from his wife.

Inwardly flinching, and feeling suddenly ashamed, Lydia attempted to state her case to the agitated woman.
"It's just a drawing that's all. Like your sculpture, I mean...he obviously inspired you too...artistically."

"Inspired? Is that what you call it? More like made an impression, and not necessarily a good one, I might add. Your father had to increase his medication after that god awful business, and it cost a fortune to fix the ceiling and floor. That was reclaimed oak flooring, Lydia. Do you have any idea how much that costs, do you?"
Delia's face was beginning to turn crimson now, clashing with the colour of her hair.

Flicking her eyes to the charcoal drawing, then to the floor, Lydia looked solemn.
It hung on the wall amidst the other pieces of artwork, and seemed to be attracting quite a small crowd. Several people had gathered round to look at the bizarre, and ghoulish figure which stood casually holding a cigarette. His eyes seemed to look straight into your soul, and the charcoal really didn't do them justice, she thought.

"Well, no harm done."
Charles was saying now, trying to calm Delia down.
She was attracting quite a bit of attention herself, due to her voice being raised several octaves higher than usual, and it bounced off the walls, with the potential to perforate all eardrums within a fifty metre radius.

"No harm done? Charles, look at all these people? They're going to think there's something seriously wrong with her, a young girl producing something as horrific as that. How do you think that's going to reflect on me? On us? No one will want to rent apartments from the Addams family, thanks to Wednesday here-"

"Horrific? What about that?"
Pointing an accusing finger at the sculpture Delia clutched under her arm, Lydia stared at her stepmother askance.
"That's hardly a thing of beauty is it?"