Author's Note: More Nellie Lovett! Yay! I love Mrs. Lovett. Haha. Anyways, I'm just writing nonstop. Haha. Read and review. Enjoy!
She knew that he'd wantf to dispose of the body. It was the right thing to do. She wanted to do it too. But a little voice in her head told her not to get rid of the body. Nellie heard the voice, heard what it was saying. But she was terribly confused. What would they do with the body if they didn't get rid of it? She asked the voice that, but the voice didn't reply. It stayed silent for a few days, trying to think of what they could do with the body. Over those few days Nellie went about her usual business making the worst pies in London.
Then came the day that the judge arrived. Mrs. Lovett was minding her own business. She had seen the judge heading to the shop. Mr. T. had kicked her out when he saw the judge coming. So she came back down to her shop, listening closely to what Mr. Todd was doing. Everything had been going smoothly. Then Anthony, the sailor boy, went up. That's when things turned bad.
When Nellie went up he was so angry. The judge had left, never to return to the shop! Mr. Todd held his precious razor to her throat. In the midst of him threatening her life, she thought of what to do with the body. But she wouldn't mention it in there; not while she was close to dying.
When Mr. T. released her, relief fell upon her. She was safe…for now. Nellie never knew when he'd hold his precious friend to her throat. She never knew when he'd strike. And that scared her to bits.
Later in the day though, she was able to bring up the plan. They were sitting there in the pie shop and Mr. T. was drinking some gin. He has just talked about getting revenge and then Mrs. Lovett said, "That's all very well, but wot are we gonna do 'bout him?"
"Later on, when it's dark, we'll take 'im to some secret place and bury him."
"Ah yeah, course we could do tha'. I don't suppose he's got any relatives gonna come pokin' around looking fer 'im," she said, now dying to tell her plan. In her mind it was a pretty clever plan. But would he like it? "Seems a downrigh' shame," Mrs. Lovett sang.
"Shame?" Mr. Todd asked, looking at 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 ta be erased. Think o' it as thrift, as a gift. If ya get my drift. Seems an awful waste. I mean, wit' the price of meat wot it is when you get it. If ya get it," she sang.
"Ah," he said, nodding.
"Good ya got it! Take fer instance Mrs. Mooney an' her pie shop. Bus'ness ne'er better usin' only pussycats and toast! Now a pussy's good fer maybe six or seven at the most. And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste," she sang.
"Mrs. Lovett, wot a charming notion!" Mr. T. sang.
"Well it does seem a waste!" she sang.
"Eminently practical an' yet appropriate as always! Mrs. Lovett, 'ow I did without ya all these years I'll never know! How delectable! Also undetectable!" he crooned.
At the same time as Mr. T., she sang, "Think about it! Lots o' other gentlemen'll soon be comin' in fer a shave. Won't they? Think of all them pies!" When Mrs. Lovett heard what Mr. T. was singing, joy raced through her body. 'E thinks 'tis a good idea! she thought.
"How choice! 'Ow rare! Fer wot's the sound o' the world out there?" he crooned.
"Wot, Mr. Todd? Wot, Mr. Todd? Wot is that sound?"
"Those crunchin' noises pervading th' air?"
"Yes, Mr. Todd! Yes, Mr. Todd! Yes all around!"
"It's man devouring man, m'dear! And who are we ta deny it in 'ere?" he sang.
At the same time Mrs. Lovett sang, "Then who are we ta deny it in 'ere?"
The couple danced over to the oven and Mrs. Lovett thought, 'E loves the plan. He really does.
"These are desperate times, Mrs. Lovett. Desperate measures are called fer," he said, leaning on the counter.
"Here we are. Hot out o' the oven."
"Wot is that?"
"It's priest. 'Ave a little priest!" she sang, glancing out the window.
Mr. Todd also looked and sang, "Is it really good?"
"Sir it's too good at least! Then again they don't commit sins o' the flesh. So it's pretty fresh," she crooned.
"Awful lot o' fat," he sang.
Mrs. Lovett thought, Don't 'e like priest? Then she sang, "Only where it sat."
"Haven't you got poet or somethin' like that?" he crooned, motioning towards a poet that was reading.
"No. Y'see th' trouble wit' poet is 'ow do ya know it's deceased? Try the priest!" she sang. Then looking away from the window she thought, Does 'e think I'm a bloody nut? Lord, I 'ope he don't. Then Nellie sang, "Lawyer's rather nice."
"If it's fer a price."
"Order somethin' else though ta follow since no one should swallow it twice!"
"Anything that's lean?"
"Well, then, if you're British an' loyal ya might enjoy Royal Marine! Anyway it's clean. Though, o'course it tastes of wherever it's been!"
"Is tha' squire on th' fire?"
"Mercy no, sir. Look closer you'll notice it's grocer!"
"Looks thicker. More like vicar."
"No it has to be grocer, it's green!"
"The history o' the world, my love," he sang.
"Save a lot o' graves. Do a lot of relatives favours," she said. My love! He called me his love! she thought excitedly.
"Is those below serving those up above!" he sang.
"Everybody shaves so there should be plenty o' flavours!"
"How gratifying for once to know," Mr. T. sang.
Then both he and Mrs. Lovett sang, "That those above will serve those down below!"
"Wot is that?" Mr. Todd asked.
"It's fop. Finest in th' shop. Or we 'ave some shepherd's pie peppered wit' actual shepherds on top! And I've jus' begun. 'Ere's a politician so oily it's served with a doily. 'Ave one?" she sang.
"Put it on a bun. Well, ya ne'er know if it's going to run!"
"Try the friar. Fried it's drier!"
"No the clergy is really too coarse an' too mealy."
"Then actor! It's compacter!"
"Ah but always arrives overdone! I'll come again when you 'ave Judge on the menu!" Mr. T. sang, holding the butcher's knife to Mrs. Lovett's throat.
Mrs. Lovett held her breath. Lord, this man, she thought. Then when Mr. Todd started to dance she followed.
"Have charity towards th' world my pet!"
"Yes, yes, I know, my love!" she said, keeping her rolling pin close to the side of his head. If he cut her, she'd strike back.
"We'll take the customers that we can get!"
"High-born and low, my love!"
"We'll not discriminate great from small. No, we'll serve anyone, meaning anyone," he sang.
"We'll serve anyone," Mrs. Lovett crooned.
"And to anyone at all," they sang in unison.
They stopped dancing and Mrs. Lovett looked at Mr. Todd. "So, Mr. T., d'you like th' idea?" she asked softly.
He looked down at her. "Yes, Mrs. Lovett. It's a bloody brilliant idea, pet."
Happiness soared through her veins. He loved it. He truly did. "Pirelli," she whispered.
"Wot 'bout 'im?"
"We will use 'im. An' you're gonna need to get me some more bodies. Savvy?"
"Yes, pet. 'Tis wonderful practice fer the real thing."
"The real thing?"
"The judge, Mrs. Lovett."
"Ah, righ'. Forgot 'bout 'im."
"Wot 'bout the boy though, Mrs. Lovett?"
"Wot about 'im, Mr. T.?"
"Wot are we gonna do wit' him?"
"I'll take care o' him."
"Fine."
"Now, 'elp me get Pirelli down ta the basement. That's where I'll grind 'im up."
Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett walked out of the pie shop and up the barber's show to started to Mrs. Lovett's plan to use people in the pies.