Less Honorable Throats

Eyes bright my wife shook the brown envelope a smile appearing on her face as she heard the coins inside crashing against each other. Things were beginning to look up for us. This new-found money meant a treat for us and I decided we should finally visit Mrs Lovett's pie shop, since its grand re-opening we had heard nothing but praise from friends and neighbours. Of course there was also the barber upstairs, examining my complection in the mirror I decided I should pay him a visit also. I still had a faint memory of the barber who had lived upstairs many years ago, I had been fond of the man his skills matching no other until I heard of his crimes. He seemed like such a nice man, that I had hardly believed it.

This new barber was apparently quite cheap too, for his standard. With times being hard and with a wife, two sons and a young daughter to feed a trip to a decent barber was a rare luxury. We dressed in our best clothes, the pie shop was world-famous after all. The barber came down while we were eating conversing quietly with Mrs Lovett while her customers ate. They made quite the pair those two, the best barber in all of London and the owner of a world-famous pie shop, they both must be rolling in riches! The pies were delicious and I gorged myself, Mrs Lovett a whirling ball of energy busied herself. Moving between customers chatting with each and every one. If we come here again I'm going to take the boy up with me, I silently decided. Alistair, my eldest had got a little stubble of late. Soon he would be a proper man getting married and having children of his own.

I politely thanked Mrs Lovett for her excellent service and left my wife and children to continue their meals. Mrs Lovett gave a smirk I didn't fully understand when I told her I was visiting the barber upstairs before continuing her conversation with my wife. As I ascended the stairs I heard my daughter Ellen's high-pitched voice over the din and Mrs Lovett exclaiming that she was nearly a grown up at four years old. I heard her telling my daughter that her long blonde hair was very pretty and I couldn't help but agree. The ding of the bell awoke me from my happy stupor and signalled my presence. Mr Todd, the barber turned around. Taking my coat and telling me to sit he asked me "What can I do for you today sir?" adding a polite "I'm sorry sir I do not know your name." For a moment I consider getting more than a shave but decide it would be selfish to spend the first proper paycheck I'd had in weeks all on myself "Just a shave please and Its John Smith." The chair creaked loudly as I shifted in it. Mr Todd laced my face with shaving cream and pulled out his razor. Its silver gleamed in the light as he pressed it to my throat.

My throat burned and I felt blood forcing its way through the sliced skin of my neck, I could hear it dripping onto the floor. A futile struggle thrashing back against the grubby chair. Attempting to fight off the darkness that was trying to steal him. Another slash from the barber, blood spurting. A last breath wheezing out and the final image of the barbers murderous sneer, his eyes burning with sadistic happiness as mine closed and I fell into darkness.

The barber smiled, satisfied.