I stood on the busy sidewalks of London with a paper in my hand that read, '186 Fleet Street'. I looked around my surroundings, only to find many people that seemed to be in quite a rush (judging on their pace). I started walking cautiously, hoping to find my new house.
I'm an orphan… my parents died when I was young—too young to remember actually—and my grandma here has sent me. My grandma only speaks Spanish—and that's the problem. I know very little Spanish. 'Hola! ¿Cómo estás? Muy bien, y tu? Bien! Gracias. Adios!' So she sent me here, to find my new parents' house.
I glanced around at each shop, house, building, everything in hopes of finding this. I went up to a sign, '176 Fleet Street'. "Well, where's the street 186?" I asked myself. I felt someone come up behind me. I quickly tucked my piece of paper inside my pocket.
It was a tall, older man with grey and black stubble. He wore fancy clothes—including a leotard! I cackled.
"Are you lost?" He asked, with a sense of mystery in his eyes. He looked at me as if he was a teenage boy, checking me out. I squirmed as he looked towards my chest area.
"Umm… I need help finding one eighty… one Fleet Street." I replied. I didn't want this creep knowing where I was going to be living.
He nodded, "Follow me young lady," he said, "I know every street around here." He started to cross the street. I stood in my place where he left me. He whipped around and waved his hand towards himself. I slowly strolled over to him with caution. Don't take chances, I told myself.
As soon as I reached him, he put his hand on my lower back. My eyes bugged out and I glanced up at him with fear. He smiled evilly, as if I were his ward or something. I walked faster so he could get off of me.
"Do you still need help finding Fleet Street?" He asked. "Uh, yes…" I admitted. He walked up to me this time with more adult-like ways and acted normal. He stormed in front of me and walked to the right. I jogged to catch up to him. He was speeding, like he was mad at me or something.
"Someone's leotard is in a twist," I mumbled so only I could hear. Then I shivered at the thought of that. After a good four minutes of trying to keep up, he stopped at 181 Fleet Street.
"Here we are…" He said, "Do you live here?" I shivered again.
"No, I'm just visiting someone…." I glanced up at the sign that read, "Mrs. Mooney's Meat Pies'. "Mrs. Mooney. She's my dad's sister's cousin's friend's… sister." I blurted.
His eyebrow rose at this, I could sense that he knew I wasn't being truthful. "Alright." He turned around slowly and walked away. Just as I was watching him to see if I could go run to 186 Fleet Street, he turned around and said, "What's your name?"
I shrugged my shoulders, "What's yours?"
He chuckled. "Everyone in London knows my name. I'm Judge Turpin. But you can call me…." Then he turned around and charged towards where he came from.
"Psychopath." I muttered. I glanced to see if he was gone. Check! I pulled out my paper I had in my pocket.
"Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies…" I read. I then continued down the streets to meet the shop. I sighed and walked in, hoping for the best.