Timmy, no more wishing for ridiculous things—unless it’s custard. Custard’s always acceptable.

All this talk about control, order, and perfection. Life isn’t supposed to be perfect—it’s messy, unpredictable, and downright fantastic because of it.

You know, Beetlejuice, I think I like you. But only in small doses, like sprinkles on a cake. Too much, and you’re just insufferable.