The house that sat on the hillside of a quaint, Connecticut town was odd, to say the least. It had strange angles, odd corners, and a tower attic that overlooked the lawn. The couple that lived there, however, were painfully, unapologetically, boring.

"You. Are. Perfect!" Adam Maitland ran a rag over the freshly stained surface of the crib he'd been restoring for weeks. A real antique! He'd lucked out and found the last bottle of Manchurian tung oil in the attic. This crib was going to be gorgeous! Now if they just had a baby to put in it... He couldn't help but think that this crib was too nice to put a baby in. Maybe this was just his way of pretending he was ready to be a parent. Maybe his perfectionism was standing in the way of-

"Look at these jugs!" His wife, Barbara came bustling in to show him the freshly blasted terra cotta vases she'd made. "Aren't they great!" She cradled them in her arms. She would keep them safe. Maybe put some pretty flowers in them. She loved pottery! Although, she couldn't help but wonder if this hobby wasn't some form of projecting her need to mother something, even if it was an inanimate object with no feelings, but incredibly fragile and thus in need of protection. Could she be replacing having a kid with silly clay bowls? Was she ready to have a kid? Would she ever be ready?!

"Oh Adam. We have everything," She said, flopping down on the sofa. "We have a house, a yard, a minivan. Do you think we're ready to...you know...have a baby?"

Adam froze. "Well...we have a lot left to do, I think. What about the bathroom? And the cracks in the plaster? And...the Wifi!"

"The wifi?"

"Yeah...it should be faster."

"Yeah, and maybe we should learn Spanish or something. We want our kid to be bilingual right?" Barbara smiled and stood. "And we have to get out of debt, first. And the economy is a disaster right now!"

"Oh. My. God. You guys are so white." A woman they couldn't see or hear groaned from her place on the ceiling. She had been hanging around their house for a few days and it was obvious they were oblivious to the fact a demon was housing with them at the moment. Needless to say she needed some entertainment and they weren't bringing anything to the table.

"Whatever. You two let me know when you're ready to do something actually entertaining for once." She said, producing a newspaper titled Netherworld Times and flipping over to her favorite part; Obituaries. She skimmed the page before blinking in surprise. "Adam and Barbara Maitland...cause of death: old floor boards." She muttered to herself before looking up upon hearing a loud creak. A grin appeared on her lips. This day just got a whole lot better.

Creeeeaaak.

"See Barbara, we can't raise a family in a house with creaky floorboard-woooaaaaaa!" The crash was deafening, and the two cries were cut short. Why was their basement so deep? The two Maintlands laid on the cold, concrete floor, broken and twisted.

But, upstairs, only minutes later, they came in the front door.

"See, I told you this house wasn't ready for kids," Adam said, looking across the room at the giant hole in the floor. "We'll have to call someone to get that fixed."

"Oh my goodness, it's so cold in here. Did we turn the AC back?" Barbara shivered. She walked over to the fireplace to try and warm up, but it wasn't helping. "Adam, why is it so cold?" She turned to look at her husband, who was pale in the face and looking down into the hole in the floor.

"I have a better question. Why are our bodies still in the basement?!"

"It's showtime." The demon said to herself before poofing before the two newly deads, dressed in a tour guide outfit complete with a cap reading guide above the bill. "Hi! I'll be you're guide to the otherside. Don't go to the Netherworld. Did I say that? Never mind. I'm L to the Y, D, R, M, H. Fuck it, I can't spell." She said, starting off cheerfully before slowly losing it when she tried spelling her name. Damn curse.

Adam and Barbara exchanged terrified glances. "Who are you?" Barbara asked. "And why do you look like a referee?"

"And why are our bodies down there, while we're up here?" Adam gulped. "Are we...dead?"

"Wow, smarter than I thought. Look, it's your lucky day cause I was just passing by when you two kicked it. I can help you guys with the whole...you know, being dead thing." She grinned at them. They looked gullible enough to trick someone into saying her name.

"Alright, here's the deal, I'm a demon. So whatever I do, I can't effect the world of the living but you two can. I can help you guys be ghosts. Whatdaya say?"

"A demon?! In our house?" Barbara asked.

"What do you mean by help us 'be ghosts'?" He still couldn't wrap his head around being dead, but Adam was skeptical of this woman. "We're already being ghosts, aren't we?"

"Yes, Adam, that's the whole point of being dead. What I mean is how to scare people who come into the house. Let 'em know it's haunted, ya know?" She elaborated. Geez this could take a while.

"Okay, on the count of three I want you two to shout the scariest thing you can think of. Ready? One, two, three!"

"Into our house? But why would we scare someone in our house, that's pretty mean," Adam wasn't catching on.

"5 o 'clock traffic!" Barbara hollered like it was the wining answer on a game show. Adam spluttered. Was this a test?

"Uh- the news! I can't tell what's real from fake anymore!"

"Oh, he's right. Can I change my answer?" Barbara tilted her head at the demon.

The woman face palmed with a muffled groan. They were literal cinnamon rolls unable to scare flies, seagulls, and definitely not ready to spook humans. Even in death they were white. Boy did she have her work cut out for her. "Come on, would a little anger kill ya guys? I'm really trying here to fill ya with wisdom, skill, not to mention the instinct to kill-" She tried saying.

"Kill?! Whoa, hold on, we don't want to kill anyone!" Adam looked appalled. "And anyways, there's no one living in our house. We just died!"

Just as he spoke, the front door flew open, and two moving men came in and began roughly packing their things and hauling them out. Even the crib! After all, time passed differently after they died.

"Hey! Where are they going with our stuff?" He looked back at Lydia. "They can't just take our stuff, can they?"

"Adam, you adorable little thing you. You're dead. Of course they can take your stuff and sell it for something." Lydia replied. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. "Must be filled with rage right now, right? If only you could get them to see you guys in some way. Jumpscares, that awesome jerky Japanese ghost walk, and my personal favorite-" She said before her voice echoed around them for a moment.

"Learn to throw your voice!"

She looked over at Barbara, letting the rest of what she was saying come from her mouth...but in Lydia's voice.

Barbara clapped a hand over her mouth. Adam was following the movers around, trying to get them to notice him. "Nothing working!" He said in frustration.

"Alright. That's everything but the attic," One mover said. Adam gasped and flew to the attic, slammed the door shut and locked it. Barbara walked through the door not long after.

"I hate this!" She said. "No one can see us and our whole life is being taken out and dumped." When Lydia appeared, she looked up at her. "But we can't be scary! We're just...we're not like you."

"I know that BARBARA! That's the problem, no one's like me." Lydia snapped before becoming reclusive, shutting down a little. "You know what, I really wanted to help you guys but you're just hopeless. Here's hope, here's you. I-It's less! You know what, bye!"

She started to head towards the wall to leave them alone to figure the whole dead thing themselves. Why did she have to get such adorable labradoodles as ghosts? Hell, her dead therapist or tax attorney would have been better than these two!

"Wait!" Adam followed her out the door, then froze when he got to the bottom of the stairs. Their house...their beautiful, immaculate house...was a total pig sty! There were food containers laying about, dirty clothes piled everywhere, and bottle after empty bottle of cheap, shitty beer. The living room didn't have any furniture aside from a grungy couch, a crooked table, and a TV sat on a stool. A man was slumped over on the couch, slack jawed, the TV still going.

Adam walked around to get a look at him, Barbara behind him.

"This is who bought our house?" She asked. "Adam, he's trashed the place! We have to get rid of him!"

"But how, Barbara? He can't see us, and we aren't scary!"

The man stirred a little.

Barbara glared at him. "Adam. We're ghosts, dammit. Let's...HAUNT THIS BITCH!"

"Barbara!"

She grabbed him under the arm and hauled him upstairs. They were going to find a way to get this nasty slob out of here!

Meanwhile, Lawrence began to stir. He sat up slowly. He could have sworn he just heard people talking...maybe he'd just drunk too much... He rested his throbbing head in his palms, then leaned over to pick up his phone. Six missed called from 'Mom'.

"Argh!" He tossed the phone down and rubbed his face. He'd only been living here a few days when she'd shown up on the doorstep, cursing and yelling and trying to force her way in. That was a few months ago, and life had just gone downhill since then. The car lot wasn't doing too hot, bills were piling up, and he only ever felt like laying on the couch, sleeping.

He stood and slowly drug himself up the stairs towards the bedroom. About that time, two people with bedsheets thrown over their heads came around the corner, making really cheesy ghost sounds.

"The fuck?" Lawrence squinted. He was too hung over for this shit. "Did I have a crackhead orgy and forget about it?"

The two "ghosts" paused. "NoOoOoOoO We'Re GhOstS!" Adam said in a wailing voice.

"Did you two break in here to steal shit? Because I don't have any-"

"No! We're here to haunt you! We want you out of our house!" Barbara snapped. Beetlejuice raised his hands defensively.

"Hey, I bought this house fair and square. Also, ghosts aren't real." He grabbed a nearby hockey stick and used it to lift the bottom of Barbara's ghost sheet. "What're ya' wearin' under there? Nothing? Ya'll some kinky ghosts?"

Barbara scoffed and swatted the stick away. "You aren't scared of us?"

"No...why would I be scared of two dorks in sheets? Also, why did you break into my house?"

"We're ghosts, and this is our house!" Adam insisted. "Wait...you can see us without the sheets?" He slowly pulled his off. Lawrence looked pretty disappointed that they weren't actually naked under them.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be able to?"

Barbara floated up through the floor in front of him to prove her point. "Because the living shouldn't be able to see us! That's what that woman said." Lawrence jumped back, a little startled, but hardly frightened.

"Oh shit...so you two are...like, real ghosts?"

"Yes! That's what we've been telling you this whole time!" Adam was getting frustrated. "Now, if you could so kindly leave our house forever-"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Ghosts or not, I bought this house with my bottom dollar. I'm not leaving," Lawrence crossed him arms huffily. "Not even two sexy ghosts can change my mind. Actually, it might be a better reason to stay!" He cackled.

Barbara let out an indignant cry and grabbed Adam, pulling him up towards the ceiling and back into the attic to revise their plan. Lawrence watched them, his grin falling almost as soon as they were gone. Huh, so there was an afterlife...He wondered if it was any better than his current one. Well, only one way to find out! Lawrence made his way to the roof to test his theory. It wasn't like this hadn't been in the back of his mind for a while now, anyway.

Lydia was moping on the roof, knees drawn towards her chest. What was the point of even trying? She was invisible and always will be. She sighed softly before noticing someone else had joined her on the roof. Hey, it's the Breather who bought this place. What's he doing up here? She wondered before floating over to him.

"Whoa, dude, back away from the edge! Are you trying to kill yourself?" She exclaimed when seeing how close he was to falling to a death that would definitely involve multiple broken bones.

Lawrence slowly stumbled out to the edge of the roof. He definitely wasn't very coordinated. Being hung over didn't help. He was looking down in the yard, thinking his options over, when he heard another voice. God, was he finally losing it? He turned to see some woman he'd never met floating beside him. How many ghosts did this house have?!

"Yeah," He said casually. "I was thinking about aiming for that bird bath over there. Think I can make it?"

"Wait, you can...see me?" Lydia asked, tears of joy stinging her eyes. Finally, someone who could see her! She was going to have a new best friend! Wait a second, aiming for the birdbath? He was going to-

"NOOOOO!" She shouted before composing herself. "I mean, no. Look, you could use a buddy, right? Don't cha want a pal? Don't end yourself dude, stand up for yourself. I can be your friend if you just say my name."

Lawrence was already judging how far he'd have to jump to impale himself on that bird bath when the ghost woman stopped him. He straightened up, frowning. What did she care if he killed himself? She was a ghost herself! He crossed his arms, not looking convinced.

"Look lady, I'm very busy here. I don't have money for whatever ghostly self help program you're running. And besides, I don't even know your name!"

"I don't want your money. As for my name, I can't say it, like at all. Can't write it, the letters get jumbled. Same with spelling." She explained, a little frustrated. Come on, sucker, I need you to say my name. She thought to herself.