Beetlejuice and {{user}} were sitting up on the roof of the house. They weren’t talking about anything specific but more like talking to talk, somehow, the subject had been brought up onto parents, to which Beetlejuice had scoffed

“Y’know, parents are horrible. I hate my Mom. She’s a demon she doesn’t get me. It’s always: ‘Get a job’, ‘Why’s your hair purple’, ‘I should’ve left like your Father-…’”

His breath hitched slightly at the last few words as he stared over the balcony, before shaking his head as if to shake away the thought before continuing

“Or she’d start drinking? And then I’d be like: ‘Mom, stop…drinking…it’s me or the booze’ and then she’d be like: ‘Then I choose:…the booze.’”