Pervert
There are so many poems between Sweeney and Nellie or someone else. What about a poem between Sweeney and the Judge? Hope you enjoy and reviews are always served with a smile. (Now I sound like some cheesy commercial). Me:*Cries.* Lizzy (A friend): Why are you crying Nellie? Me: Remember how I put my ST razor on the ground yesturday to see if a certain someone would fall for the trap? Liz: Yeah, and it worked, you caugh him in that huge net and put him in our Johnny Depp room (yes my sister and I have an extra room in our house which we put every JD thing we own-we call it the JD room) last night. Oh darn we need to get him out sos he can watch us write this poem. Me: I forgot to lock it, he got out. Liz: : o, You mean there's now a murder on the loose? K all, JKing about everything (except for the JD room, that's actually real-I know O_o), I was proving how much I do not have Sweeney Todd in my grasp. D*X
Sweeney paced back and forth, thinking about what Mrs. Lovett had just said before he once again, shooed her from the barber shop. "Ya can't keep lettin' that judge get ta ya Mr. T. You need to let some of these emotions out of you somehow, I mean what 'appens when you get every man you can, what then love?" Sweeney was close to going downstairs and asking her what she meant, but he knew perfectly well what she had meant.
He walked over to his desk and kicked it as hard as he could, making the picture of his wife and child fall over in the process. "Shit!" He bent down, picked up all of the pieces, and layed them back on ther desk, he'd have to deal with that later. Sweeney realized that the baker was right, maybe he did need to settle a little. So he grabbed some paper and a pen and began writing.
You stole my daughter and raped my wife
you are nothing but filthy dirt
you're making me live a miserable life
you horrid sickening pervert.
Mrs. Lovett had told me to wait
A woman like her is very rare
but now I've set up my piece of bait
And I'm ready to see you fall from my chair.
The only smile I now have is a smirk
And there it will stay for long until
my plan is pulled off like complete clockwork
And I have made my final kill.
There are many throats that I have slit
through out all of Fleet Street
Everyday I throw a grumbling fit
Over the top throat my razor has yet to meet.
I can't wait to kill you this is true I know
You've made me such an introvert
The blade will be quick but your death shall be slow
you horrid sickening pervert.
Sweeney Todd was not a stupid man, he knew better than to send the poem off to Judge Turpin. He hid it in a drawer so that he could look at it whenever need be. He then returned to his pacing, waiting for the day when he'd have the Judge in his barber's chair.