A quaint little place renown for its superior selection of reading material and its refined clientele, loosely referred to by the UNCOUTH as "Topper's Poolhall and Bowl-A-Rama". You will always find one person to greet you at the door with a friendly smile and directions. Actually, the doorman is often juiced so any directions he gives you, do directly the OPPOSITE. The last directed guest arrived at another Moo altogether...Lambda something or other. Feel free to take off your shoes, watch them carefully, but you can still take them off. There are beverages available at the snackbar. The drinks are free, but the cups are 50 dollars a piece. Moreover, if you wish to wager on any of the little games in the back, you should include a nice healthy cut for Topper; the specially designed pool tables and bowling balls have put her in somewhat of a financial hole.
The place to do your Thinking and Drinking. The places is noisy, not from a busy clientele, but because it is next door to a bowling alley. There are plenty of tables, a few booths and no reason to think you can hear anything other than the strikes and pin settings going on next door. The regular customers seem to shout a lot at each other. This has caused quite a few misunderstandings since a friendly greeting can sometimes be interpreted as a threating, how-could-you-say-that-to-me insult. The barkeep, who is named BUMSTER, uses a megaphone to announce when drinks are ready. This has kept him on friendly terms with everyone for many years. Order something from the bar and grab a seat. A fight will be breaking out in just a minute for your amusement. (Unfortunately, you will probably be a participant because you did not hear the patron shout to you, HEY!!! THAT'S MY CHAIR!!
An old steer that has seen enough brandings and cattle drives to last a lifetime. He slowly polishes the bar and nods in agreement with all sides of an agrument mainly because he is not really listening. From time to time he looks up at the wall clock, the closing time sign and a patron who has stopped buying drinks, in that order. He wears an apron, but you wonder why. He never seems to be actually DOING anything that would require it. Occasionally he sighs and steadys a few bottles on the shelves when someone in the bowling alley next door is really bowling well. If you are thirsty, he'll try to take his eyes off the game on the tv long enough to serve you.
The MOOvie House was created to celebrate the achievements of cows in the filming industry. It is a large building decorated with bells and flyswatters. The chairs are comfortable, the screen is large, the room is dark and cool and the beverage of choice, MOO Cola is always just a screen break away. The house caters to those select MOOviegoers who enjoy seeing again and again such features as The French COWnection, The Sound Of MOOsic, and AMOOdeus. There is popcorn available at the concession stand, but it is permanently out of butter flavoring. There is however, a fine selection of candies from LICKorice to MOOky Way bars.
Surfs Up! The waves are high. Grab your board and let's go! Here is a place to bask in the sun while a warm summer breeze sprinkles you occasionally with the spray from the surf. The beach is clean and spacious, dotted infrequently by protruding rock formations. There is a vendor here selling sunshades and towels for a price that is UDDERLY within the reach of everyone. Grab a board or just stroll the paved boardwalk that runs the full length of the beach.
A funky little town where beetles go To waste there time and spend their dough. The ladies are friendly. The men are buff. It's the right kind of place For the wrong kind of stuff. The mood is playful. The morals are loose. Welcome to good times! This is Beetle Juice.
You have just entered the private world of beetles. Beetle Juice is a small town with big city ways. There is a barbershop here, which is strange because beetles have no hair to speak of unless you count what's on their legs. Hmmm...mighty suspicious business that shop. In the north corner there is a gambling establishment discreetly named The Temple of Chance. Services are 24 hours a day and seven days a week. Further down Beetle row is a place called The Fogger. You wonder about this place as well. No sense wondering, go on and explore. Besides, you definitely have a height/weight advantage over the residents. Suddenly, you are covered by a light sticky spray. You feel yourself shrinking. Well, there goes the advantage. Do you still want to explore?
A place where silent prayers are said often. In the corner you can hear a devotee mumbling, "Oh Lord, please give me a seven!" Seven is a sacred number and is in the same league as other sacred words such as "Twenty-one", "Jackpot" and "Blackjack". Many pilgrims come into town just to sacrifice to the gods of "Off-Track", "Office-Pool" and a mysterious god called "Power Ball." When the forces of the darkness (the police) trample on holy ground, the High Priest is very likely to part with a heavenly gift to persuade them to leave and not to interrupt the services. The greedy heathen usually accept this act of charity until the next full moon, when once again they invade the sanctuary looking for manna. Nevertheless, things being the way they are, this is a necessary evil that the enlightened must endure in this world of greed and sloth.
Welcome to Sadie's. Years ago, our patron decided that the idle ladies of Beetle Juice would be more usefully served if they learned a trade. Having massive talents in the area of trade herself, Sadie decided to establish this barber college to train future female entrepreneurs. Sadie, semi-retired, overseers the students exercises as well as the appointment book. It is a thriving little school with no shortage of community support.
You hold the metal railing as you descend the concrete steps down to this small neighborhood club. A doorman looks you up and down and reluctantly decides you are cool enough to enter. You pay him the cover charge in green leafs and he grins and pockets them. The place is dark and quiet and it takes you a moment to adjust. There is a blue haze in the air although you don't see anyone smoking... well...cigarettes anyway. There is a slender male beetle on a small stage with his back to the audience. He begans to shout and scream, "YOU DON'T KNOW ME!! MY EXISTENCE IS NOT PROVED BY MY FACE!!" He holds the attention of a few and the glares of many who do not appreciate the performance. There is a small jar on the bar that is filled with red and green candies...on closer inspection..maybe not. There is a small booth where you can sit unnoticed and observe the goings on or you can really be bold and sign up to be the next performer.
Many years ago, a small soft drink company decided that the world was not big enough for two colas. So, after advertising, subliminal messages and out right lying against the competition did not work, the cola factory declared, "DRINK OUR PRODUCT OR DIE YOU MAGGOTS!!" Thus, the Cola Wars were started. Many eons of time have passed and the original reason for the hostilities is not known, but who cares when you have a really good war going, eh? Thus, Fizztown is populated by two warring factions called the PEPs and the COKErs. The fighting is fierce between them, although they still have lunch and play volleyball together. Watch your step. It's very easy to shake up the residents.
A large beach tent faces the ocean. In front of it, positioned in the sands is a long pole with a red flag fluttering gently in the ocean breeze. This is the headquarters of the COKERS. As you enter the tent you see a lobby filled with past participants of advertising campaigns of yesterday. Santa is scratching his beard in the corner and smiling because he knows he has a steady gig. A few white polar bears are mumbling about skating lessons. A whole choir of international singers are trying to teach the bears to sing. They are being ignored. On the walls you see several maps of the world with strategic points circled in red. From the maps you see it is vitally important that Yaks in Tibet began to buy this product or winter sales figures will drop. You see many employees rushing about filling orders and tracing lost shipments, but the executives are all over at the Ironing Board catching a few waves.
Beached on the sands is a large round, metallic building which serves as the offices of the PEPs. The building is tastefully decorated in the company colors of steel blue. The PEP staff is very efficient, courteous and helpful. Of course they are all alien beings, the office building is really a spacecraft and the cola product they sell is actually...well...we don't want to reveal trade secrets do we? The PEPs appropiately choose this method of world conquest since they would be assured of the attention of most of the world population in something that might interest them. Politics and dictators demands seemed to roll off the minds of most of the earth's inhabitants. So, having engaged the earthlings in a battle that they could understand, through advertising during short breaks between TV programs, the PEPs are assured of final conquest of the planet.