AUTHOR'S NOTE: OMG, I simply HAD to fit in a Sweeney fic. before all the Johnny-lovers come in and strew it about with stories of Johnny's Todd and Helena's Lovett. [Random Person: Hypocrite! YOU'RE a Johnny-lover!! Me: Oh, but I need to give Angela and George their proper exaltation where exaltation is due!!
"Hell-lo, muh name is Dave, how may I help you?"
Sweeney surveyed his very white surroundings, completely and utterly confused. He was in front of two large, golden gates that extended beyond his sight. Sweeney, the gates, and Dave were all on a cloud. But, unlike Sweeney, Dave was dressed in white robes that matched perfectly with his tiny wings and halo.
Dave sat behind a nondescript oak desk and rapped his fingers against it. He cleared his throat.
"AheHEM, Sir- your name."
"I-I-" Sweeney stuttered, glancing down at his blood-soaked white blouse and suspenders. "Wh-Where is-? Um… wh-where am I?"
Dave sighed and rustled around a compartment in his desk and handed Sweeney a pamphlet.
"It explains it all in the brochure."
Sweeney reluctantly took the pamphlet from his hand and glanced down at its title, "So, You're Dead!"
"I-I'm dead?" asked Sweeney, his mouth forming a perfect, little "O".
"Um… yeah."
"Bu-But I-I… does- does-?"
"Eeeee-yeah, sir, this conversation is absolutely fascinating, but we really have to get a move on. Read the packet and it'll explain everything… don't worry, you'll have an eternity to…now…how about that name?"
"Um… Sweeney. Sweeney… Todd?"
Dave smiled.
"That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" stated Dave, pulling out a huge tome of enormous, biblical-proportions. It was a little over two-thousand pages long and it had a golden-engraved, capital "T" on the cover.
Dave flipped open to a page and pointed to a name, followed by a birthday and gender classification and another column next to it Sweeney couldn't see.
"Ah! There you are: Sweeney. Sweeney Todd. If you ever get reborn and somehow die again, use your legal name, Mr. Barker," said Dave, closing the book and smiling, again.
"Oh… I'm sorry."
"That's alright- y'er still in here. Well, Sweeney it looks like y'er ready to- oh, wait… oh…"
"What? What is it?" asked Sweeney, leaning into Dave, anxious and worried.
"There must have been some kind of mistake…," said Dave, "You're not supposed to be here…"
"I'm not?"
"No… you're supposed to be in-"
"Well, Hi-ii!!! How YOU doin'!? Welcome to Hell, my name is Lucifer and I'm gonna' be your guide today!"
"Ah, shit," said Sweeney.
TO SEEK REVENGE MAY LEAD TO HERE
Lucifer had been (surprisingly) hospitable and accommodating, answering all Sweeney's questions and giving him and insightful tour of Hell which, instead of being occupied by fire and brimstone and all that jazz, contained many condominiums and looked surprisingly like modern-day Chicago.
"So, you're in the Chicago-sector of Hell," said the Devil, "… and you'll be staying in a lovely apartment by Lake Michigan… although, I never liked the name "Lake Michigan" so I just call it "Tim" sometimes…"
"Really? Is that it?"
"Well, I was thinking of calling it "Timothy" but-"
"Oh, no not that that," said Sweeney, "I mean- is this Hell? All of it?"
"Yeah, pretty much…," said Lucifer.
"Oh…"
"What's wrong?" asked the King of Darkness, leading Sweeney to a fancy apartment building and boarding the elevator.
"Oh, nothing," said Sweeney, "It's just… I always supposed Hell would be more… Hellish."
"Oh, it is! You're just luck: I actually like you."
"R-Really?"
Sweeney debated on the inside about what that really meant about his personality.
"Yeah, you're, like, the coolest murderer in the entire world! I freaking LOVE you!" said Satan, grabbing Sweeney and giving him a noogie.
"Was it really just ten minutes ago I was being serenaded by a half-crazed ten year-old?"
"Oh! We're here!" said Beelzebub, as the two hit the 21st floor. "Here we go- Twelve-nineteen, Twelve-Twenty and Twelve-Twenty-One… 1221- your new home!"
Out of "Father of Lies'" hand came a red key-card with little chibi skeletons and flames on it. He popped it into the card slot.
"There we are, now… before you go in, I just need to good through a few things, okay?"
Sweeney nodded his head.
"Oh, good!" said Lucifer, clapping his hands together, "Now- there's just ooooooooooone little thing I miiiiiiiiiiiiiiight want to tell you, 'kay?"
"Uh, sure… whatever…"
"Well, we're gettin' a little crowded down here in Hell, so were gonna' havta' let you share a condo' with some other people… maybe just one, I think."
"Oh, well- that's fine."
"Oh…good," said Satan, opening up the door and pushing Sweeney in, "Have fun."
He closed door and locked it.
Sweeney peered through the eyehole in the door, but the Devil had gone. Sweeney paid no mind to it, though, for he had began to walk around his new home: and a lovely home it was, too!
A skinny corridor led to two bedrooms, nicely decorated and styled with a different theme: the first one, an autumn setting. The second, a nautical/beach/sea setting. Since his roommate didn't appear to be living here, yet, he called the Sea Room in his mind. On the other side of this hallway was lovely bathroom drenched in marble. Moving on, the ingress led to a rather large living/dining room with attached kitchen complete with modern appliances, and a rather large sofa and gyNORmous HD plasma-screen.
"Saaaaaaayy…," Sweeney said, turning to face the kitchen, "Death isn't so bad after- AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!!!!!!"
"AUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!!!!!! What the 'ell're YOU doin' 'ere!?!?!?!?!?"
"What am I doing here!? What are YOU doing here!?!?"
"Ahm DEAD!!!"
The woman, her hands fastened to her hips, her eyes unbarred in fury, her orange hair and bare arms singed and burned, glared at Sweeney. She wore a scorched and tattered dress. There was long silence as the two stood there, staring at each other: one in fear, one in anger.
"M-M-Mrs. Lovett…," Sweeney stammered, "Uh… what- uh…HELLO, GORGEOUS!!"
Mrs. Lovett grabbed Sweeney by the neck, her coarse hands like sandpaper against his skin.
"Done' chu' suck up t'me, Benjamin: Ahm gonna' kick y'er ass from 'ere t'-" Mrs. Lovett stopped, "I mean…um… y'know wha' I mean…"
Sweeney's face slipped slowly into a violet-blue and he choked,
"M-Mrs. Lovett! Y-You're hurting me!"
Mrs. Lovett released his neck.
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH, I'M HURTING YOU!??!?!?!"
"Here it comes," said Sweeney, bracing himself. Mrs. Lovett took in a deeeeeeeeeeeeep breath.
"WELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL, maybe ahm a li'l IRRITABLE on the accoun'a, oh, I dunno'… DEAD!!! Hmmm… I won'er WHY ahm dead. Hmmm? Was it SUICIDE? Oh, no… 'at's not right… was it and ACCIDENT? Oh, no… THAT'S not righ' either… whyyyyyyyy am I DEAD?"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, boy…," thought Sweeney.
"Oh, wait-" she took in another deep breath, "THE MAN I LOVE KILLED ME!!!!!"
Mrs. Lovett grabbed Sweeney by his chestnut hair and threw him to the ground.
"Hey! Hey! Hey! Respect the do'! I'm not exactly- AUGH!! HEY!! OH, MY-!!! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE KICKED THERE!!! AUUUUUUUUUUGH!!!!"
Mrs. Lovett applied many a painful bitch-slap to Sweeney's face and body, leaving no part of his physical (and a little mental) anatomy un-swollen and un-bruised.
"You stay there…," said Mrs. Lovett, "Ahm getting' some tea…"
Sweeney lay on the floor, whimpering and writhing like a small dog, regretting his impulsive decision to throw Mrs. Lovett into a giant oven. She returned minutes later with her cup of tea and dragged by his boots onto the floor by the sofa. She sat down next to him and took a sip of her chai.
"Tehw me, Sweeney," she said, turning on the TV, "What exactly were you thinking when you decided to charbroil me?"
The sound of a rerun of "Pimp My Ride" made itself known and Mrs. Lovett changed the channel. Sweeney planned his words carefully.
"I wasn't, Nellie," he said, turning his head down in shame. Mrs. Lovett flicked his ear. "Ow! Hey! Whadja' do THAT for!?"
Mrs. Lovett nonchalantly changed the channel again to NBC, and "My Name Is Earl" popped on.
"Oh, pish posh." She said, "You must've been thinking a' something, Mr. Barker."
"I'll tell you what I was thinking, y'little two-face ho!" Sweeney thought to himself.
Mrs. Lovett slapped him clear across the face, her solemn expression unchanged.
"WHADJA' DO THAT FOR!??!"
"You just called me a ho, dumb ass."
"You can read my thoughts!?"
Mrs, Lovett took a sip of her tea and slapped him again.
"That was just a guess, you idiot! You really DID cahw me a ho!"
In his head, Sweeney thought,
"Oh, she's good…"
"I know," said Mrs. Lovett, returning her attention to the television screen.
Silence sat with them for a few hours while Mrs. Lovett quietly ate her mayo-bologna sandwich and watched her televeision program. Sweeney's stomach echoed in the pain of emptiness, but he dared not leave for food: Mrs. Lovett was just starting to calm down.
Mrs. Lovett had left several times for more tea and food, but never broght anything back for Sweeney. It was a constant cycle that Sweeney was starting to know all too well: TV, kitchen, fridge, tea… TV, kitchen fridge, tea, TV, kitchen, fridge, tea, TV, kitchen- it was maddening.
Every time Nellie stood up and left for the kitchen, another plea for food was expelled form Sweeney's mind. And, then, she came back from the kitchen, turned off "Pushing Daises" and returned to the kitchen.
"Benjamin, come in here."
Sweeney scrambled to his feet and positioned himself in the open doorway of the kitchen.
"Eh- yes, Mrs. Lovett?"
She was leaning against the kitchen's island with an array of meat pies on a plate.
"Sit."
Sweeney looked over his shoulder and saw there was a nondescript chair propped against the wall. He sat and, as he did so, said,
"Of course, Mrs. Lovett, anything you say-what do you need? Do you need something? Anything at all- a backrub, a French manicure, a written declaration of my extreme obedience to your regality? How about-?"
"Sweeney: shut up."
He did. Mrs. Lovett sighed, took a sip of her tea and picked up a pie in her hand.
"Are you 'ungry?"
"That depends, did you make those?"
She threw the stale meat pie at his face.
"Oh, 'at's 'ilarious," said Mrs. Lovett, "Well, actually, I was gonna' make y'some pasta… but tha' lil' comment's makin' y'wait ten minutes… "
Sweeney made a mental not to himself to stop making fun of Mrs. Lovett.
"Wh-what did you want me here, for, Mrs. Lovett?"
Mrs. Lovett scrunched her face in an emotionless canvas.
"Could, uh, cahw me "Nellie", Sweeney?" she asked, looking into his eyes.
"That's all you wanted?"
"No! Just, for today, just refer to me as "Nellie"…" Mrs. Lovett took another sip of her tea, set it down, and focused her sigfht on the cup, "I just wanted t'tuhwk."
"To what?"
"Tuhwk."
"Huh?"
"Tuhwk! I want-ed to tuhwk! A conversation!"
"Oh! You mean "talk"! Oh…," said Sweeney, "Sure… um, what did you want to talk about?"
Mrs. Lovett broke down into tears and dug her hands.
"I'm de-hehe-he-he-head!!"
"Oh, boy…," thought Sweeney.
"WHY, Sweeney!?!? WHY!?!?!? Ah know ah wasn't the best a' friends an' ah didn't tehw you about your Lucy, but KIHW me!?!??! We're in HELL, Sweeney!!! Y'understand!??!? HELL!!!!!"
Mrs. Lovett uncharacteristically banged her head against the marble once and fell to the floor, holding her face, silently sobbing…
"Nellie!?"
Sweeney ran around the island and kneeled down to her level. Between sobs, she managed to spit out,
"What?"
Sweeney compassionately lay down next to her and put his arm over her shoulder and taking her hand in his.
"Nellie- I'm sorry."
Although Mrs. Lovett wasn't looking at him, she glanced over once, acknowledging him.
"I-I was selfish, Nellie. An egotistical fool. I was just so mad at that one moment, that one instant that I was blinded by all reason and sense. I was blind to how much your affections brought me to my ultimate dream- my revenge against the beadle and the judge. I was blind to how much you meant to me and how much you would have done for me. I was blind… to how much I loved you."
Mrs. Lovett turned her gaze upwards to his smiling face and, as she turned into him, he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace.
"Oh, Mr. Todd-" she started, slapping his face.
"AUGH!!!"
"If you ever troy tha' emotionuhw crap on me again, I'll kick your ass so 'ard y'won't be abuhw to move!"
Sweeney looked up at her from the floor and smiled.
"Of course, Mrs. Lovett! Whatever you say Mrs. Lovett!"
EPILOGUE: Sweeney was forever Mrs. Lovett's man ho and she slapped him daily. Though, Sweeney never minded. If I may quote him, he says it "Hurt so good."
Was this was really happened in Hell with Nellie and Sweeney?
Probably not.
Was it what SHOULD happen?
Definitely.