Sittin' in Cages
Chapter One: Benjamin Barker
It was dark out for eight o'clock in the morning. She woke up in a startle the memories seeping into her dreams or so called nightmares. She glances down and got out of her cot she called a bed.
"Wot time is it?" she asked no one, but herself. She shrugged her clothed shoulders and walked into Mrs. Lovett's kitchen. The girl was dressed in a dark midnight sort of dress with a low cut of her bust area. It looked as if it were to burst out because of the corset. She masked her emotions as she entered the kitchen.
"Ello dearie, I got a list over there if you can 'ick up 'or me," Mrs. Lovett was a gentle creature, never hurt a fly; never mind that's a bad example. She had lovely red hair that curled at the ends and even if it was up in a rat's nest it was real pretty. Her dress was covered in flour and some egg yoke.
"Of 'ourse ma'm." the girl spoke with elegance and fluency; she picked up the list and was about to walk out the door, but Mrs. Lovett called out for her.
"Melody, dearie, 'on't talk ta 'trangers now," Melody smiled and nodded.
"Of 'ourse ma'm." she ran out the door and onto the streets of Fleet street, carrying a shopping list. The market place was full of men, women, and children alike. Beadle Bamford was there like always checking his surrounding women. She grimaced and tucked a piece of her black hair behind her ear and walked past him with confidence.
"Ello pretty," she shivered and knew that was Beadle. She turned around and bowed lowly towards the soil of the path.
"Ello Mister Bamford," she gave a weak smile as she glanced around with her big, cold, brown eyes and waited for him to reply.
"Wonderful 'ay is it not?" Melody glanced up to the sky and grimaced. It was dark and cold, just like every other day in this shit hole called London.
"Yes 'f course, I 'ust be on me way now, shopping for my ma'm," he bowed and smiled.
"But, I 'ust know 'our name miss,"
"Melody.....Melody Heartford," Bamford gave a slight sigh and walked off with his cane in hand. Melody flushed and walked off to find the groceries for Mrs. Lovett.
When Melody got back with the groceries for Mrs. Lovett it was empty in the kitchen so she sat it down and put it away. It was an easy day, people walked passed by the shop, grimacing at the sight of ill mannered and ill upkeep of the store. Mrs. Lovett was going to be broke one day, she never once sold a piece without them choking or dieing. Melody placed her chin into her palms as the door rang. Her head snapped up to see a beautiful creature.
"Ello there luv," she said smiling weakly. He stood and stared at her with a cold stare. She shuttered and placed her hands on the counter.
"Would ya' like a 'eat pie sir?" she asked sifting the dough for the pie crust. He sat down in a huff, Melody guessed that was a "yes?" She smiled lightly and started making the pies like Mrs. Lovett had shown her before. Once she placed the uncooked pie into the small oven behind her the man finally spoke.
"Sweeney...Sweeney Todd," she glanced back and smiled weakly.
"Melody Heartford," he nodded his head and Melody placed a glass of ale in front of him.
"On the 'ouse, the pies taste awful," she winked playfully and walked back the oven.
"Mrs. Lovett's meat pies are the worst in London," Melody sang out as Mrs. Lovett entered the kitchen.
"A customer?!"
"You gave me such a-- fright!
I thought you was a ghost
Half a minute, can'tcher?
All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks
Did you come in for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague--
What is that?
But you'd think we'd had the plague
From the way that people
Keep avoidin'--
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?
Mind you, I can hardly blame them
These are probably the worst pies in London
I know why nobody cares to take them
I should know - I make 'em
But good? No!
The worst pies in London
Even that's polite
The worst pies in London
If you doubt it, take a bite--
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
Finding poor
Animals
Wot are dyin' in the street
Mrs. Moony has a pie shop
Does a business, but I notice somethin' weird--
Lately all her neighbour's cats have disappeared
Have to hand it to her
Wot 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 pussy cats is quick
No denyin' times is hard, sir
Even harder than the worst pies in London
Only lard and nothing more
Is that just revolting?
All greasy and gritty
It looks like it's molting
And tastes like-- well, pity
A woman alone
With limited wind
And the worst pies in London!
Ah, sir
Times is hard
Times is hard,"
"Well you survived Mrs. Lovett's meat pies; the worst pies in London," Sweeney stared at Melody and Mrs. Lovett. Nellie grabbed Sweeney's arm.
"Ale is not gonna wash 'at taste down, lets 'et some gin eh?" Melody followed Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. She watched Sweeney and Nellie talk.
"You've got a room over the shop, haven't you? If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out?" Sweeney asked.
"People think it's haunted."
"Haunted?"
"Yeah. And who's to say they're wrong? You see, years ago something happened up there. Something not very nice."
"There was a barber and his wife and he was beautiful, a proper artist with a knife, but they transported him for life and he was beautiful…"
"Barker, his name was. Benjamin Barker."
"What was his crime?" Mr. Todd inquired.
"Foolishness."
"He had this wife, you see
Pretty little thing
Silly little nit
Had her chance for the moon on a string
Poor thing
Poor thing
"There was this Judge, you see
Wanted her like mad
Every day he'd send her a flower
But did she come down from her tower?
Sat up there and sobbed by the hour
Poor fool
Ah, but there was worse yet to come, poor thing,"
"The Beadle calls on her, all polite
Poor thing, poor thing
The Judge, he tells her, is all contrite
He blames himself for her dreadful plight
She must come straight to his house tonight!
Poor thing, poor thing
Of course, when she goes there
Poor thing, poor thing
They're havin' this ball all in masks
There's no one she knows there
Poor dear, poor thing
She wanders, tormented and drinks
Poor thing
The judge has repented, she thinks
Poor thing
"Oh, where is Judge Turpin?" she asks
He was there, alright
Only not so contrite!
She wasn't no match for such craft, you see
And everyone thought it so droll
They figured she had to be daft, you see
So all of 'em stood there and laughed, you see
Poor soul!
Poor thing!"
"NOOO!!" Mr. Todd screamed as he stood up. Melody jumped ten feet up in the air and landed as she held her heart.
"Would no one have mercy on her?"
"So it is you. Benjamin Barker." Mrs. Lovett stared in wonder and amazement, who was this Benjamin Barker?
"No! Not Barker. That man is dead. It's Todd now-Sweeney Todd. And he will have his revenge."
(Author's Note:
I think I got the song right, I took some of the song out because he was already sitting down luvs. I tried to enter in some English accent so please comment/review.
FIN.)