Sweeney Todd

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You stand in the kitchen making pies while your mum is out at the market. A man walks in startling you a bit, no one ever buys any pies from here. You've learned the only way to get these pies down is with a lot of gin.

"A customer!" He looks like he's about to walk out so you quickly jump in.

"Wait! What's your rush? What's your hurry? You gave me such a... fright! I thought you was a ghost! Half a minute, can't ya sit? Sit ya down! Sit!" He reluctantly sits down.

"All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks. Did ya come here for a pie, sir? Do forgive me if my head's a little vague. Ugh, What is that? But you'd think we had the plague. From the way that people keep avoiding! No you don't! Heaven knows I try, sir! But there's no one comes in even to inhale! Right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?" He gives a slight nod, poor thing looks scared. You quickly pour him a bit of ale.

"These are probably the worst pies in London. I know why nobody cares to take them! I should know! I make them! But good? No. The worst pies in London, even that's polite! The worst pies in London! If you doubt it take a bite!" He hesitantly takes a bite, his face scrunches up.

"Is that just, disgusting? You have to concede it! It's nothing but crusting! Here drink this, you'll need it. The worst pies in London. And no wonder with the price of meat. What it is. When you get it. Never thought I'd live to see the day. Men'd think it was a treat findin' poor animals what are dyin' in the street." You ramble on thinking about the pie shop across the street.

"Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop. Does a business, but I notice something weird. Lately, all her neighbors cats have disappeared. Have to hand it to her! What I calls, enterprise! Poppin' pussies into pies! Wouldn't do in my shop! Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick! And I'm telling you them pussycats is quick." He chuckles at that, making you smile.

"It's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that down. How bout a nice topple of gin?." You wave your hand motioning for him to follow you. You grab a glass as you walk to the sitting room. Once you have the gin poured you hand it to him.

"So, you own this shop?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Nah, me mum does." You say and as if right on que the door opens as your mother comes in.


Mr. T has moved in upstairs. The shop hasn't really been doing any better but at least Mr. Todd is fun to be around. He's actually funny, and no one can deny how attractive he is. Okay, yes, you might have a small crush on him but he'd never...

You shake your head as your mum bangs pots and bowls around to keep the kid from hearing what's happening up stairs. You look back out the window not having anything to do at the moment. A little while later you see your mum helping Mr. Todd down the stairs and into the shop.

"That's all very well, but what are we going to do about the Italian?" Your mum asks Mr. Todd. You stay silent even though you're really confused and are now curious.

"Later on, when it's dark, we'll take him out of the trunk and bury him" He says almost in a daze.

"Well, yes, of course, we could do that," She says dryly. "I don't suppose he's got any relatives gonna come poking around looking for him. But you know me, bright ideas just pop into my head and I keep thinking... Seems a downright shame..." She sighs.

"Shame?" Mr. T questions her.

"Seems an awful waste... Such a nice, plump frame wot's 'is name has... Had... Has! Nor it can't be traced...  Bus'ness needs a lift, Debts to be erased... Think of it as thrift, As a gift, If you get my drift!" You look from your mum to Mr. T. When she sees he doesn't get it yet she goes on.

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