COMPANY: ATTEND THE TALE OF SWEENEY TODD! HE KILLED EVERYBODY!
WOMEN: But he sure was CLEAN!
COMPANY: EPIIIIIIC MUUUUUUUUUSIC AND EPIIIIIIC LYYYYYYYYRICS!
SWEENEY: (rising from the grave) Guys, don't give away the play. Leave.
COMPANY: Sigh. *sulkily file offstage*
ANTHONY: (smiling broadly) I heart London! ZOMG!
SWEENEY: Yeah...right.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Alms! Please?
ANTHONY: (smiling broadly) Here. *gives her moneys*
BEGGAR WOMAN: Cool, thanks. Hey, HOW'D YOU LIKE A LITTLE MUFF, DEAR, A LITTLE JIG, A LITTLE BOUNCE AROUND THE BUSH—
SWEENEY: (claps his hands over Anthony's ears) Get out of here, lady. There are innocent ears about.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Hey, don't I know—
SWEENEY: NO.
BEGGAR WOMAN: *sulkily walks offstage*
ANTHONY: (smiling broadly) There's no need to fear those insane women, sir! They don't mean any harm!
SWEENEY: No, people are all crap, especially the ones in London, because one of them did something mean to this barber who totally isn't me. See, he thought the barber's wife was hot, so he shipped him off.
ANTHONY: (smiling broadly) Why, that's awful! Did the lady succumb?
SWEENEY: ...I dunno. Leave.
ANTHONY: (smiling broadly) Kay. But wait! How am I going to return those CDs you lent me?
SWEENEY: (pondering to self) Which is worse—that idiot knowing where I live or losing my Sinatra tapes forever? Sigh. (to Anthony) I'll be around Fleet Street. Probably.
ANTHONY: (smiling broadly) See you around, then!
SWEENEY: Great.
MRS. LOVETT: (spots Sweeney) Hey! Come in and eat my pies. No one will eat them cos they're awful. Here, have one. Disgusting, isn't it? Well, it's not like you can get actual meat anymore, so I just use whatever I find. You know, fly carcasses, glue, nail polish, whatever. I mean, they're really, really bad. People die after eating them.
SWEENEY: Well...this is pretty bad, but I think the reason you don't sell any might have less to do with the taste than the way you advertise them.
MRS. LOVETT: You mean...the "WORST PIES IN LONDON!1!1111!" sign I hung out front isn't helping?
SWEENEY: ...I would say not, yeah.
MRS. LOVETT: Dang.
SWEENEY: ...
MRS. LOVETT: ...
SWEENEY: ...
MRS. LOVETT: (gesturing at pie) You gonna eat that?
SWEENEY: Uh, you go ahead. So, if you're having so many troubles, why don't you rent out that room upstairs?
MRS. LOVETT: No one will go near it.
SWEENEY: ...why?
MRS. LOVETT: Well, there was this superhot barber who lived there. And his wife. And this judge and his beadle wanted her, so they kicked the superhot barber out of the country. And then they invited the superhot barber's wife to a party. And the judge raped her.
SWEENEY: ...
MRS. LOVETT: Yeah, it kind of sucked.
SWEENEY: NUUUUUUUUUU!11!1!
MRS. LOVETT: IT'S YOU THE SUPERHOT BARBER! (glomps him)
SWEENEY: Get off me, woman, and tell me what happened to my wife!
MRS. LOVETT: (sulkily) Well, fine then. She poisoned herself.
SWEENEY: NUUUUUUUUUU!11!1!
MRS. LOVETT: Yep, she...poisoned herself...with arsenic. And that is the truth. (covert laughter)
SWEENEY: Well, that sucks.
MRS. LOVETT: ...would something SHINY cheer you up?
SWEENEY: Would it ever!
MRS. LOVETT: Here! (pulls out box of razors) I kept 'em for you, which was kind of stupid considering you were sentenced to life. Hey, how did you get back anyway?
SWEENEY: (has grabbed razors and is no longer listening) MAH BESTIEEEEES! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!
MRS. LOVETT: Didja miss ME, Mr. Barker?
SWEENEY: It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd. And...no. So, friends, how are you doing? Jim? Georges? Audrey II? That's great. We're gonna do great things, you know, guys...
COMPANY: SWING YOUR RAZOR HIGH, SWEENEY! HEAR IT SINGING, YES! PLUNGE IT IN THE ROSY SKIN OF RIGHTEOUSNESSSSS!
SWEENEY: Sounds like a plan.
BIRDSELLER: Birds for sale...birds for sale!
JOHANNA: Sigh. These birds are such metaphors for my life. But they can sing. And I can't. Except I totally can, way better than a normal person. But anyway, yeah, I'm kept caged up in this house all day and my guardian is a total perv and LIFE SUCKS.
BIRDSELLER: ...Do you want me to call the child abuse hotline?
JOHANNA: No.
BIRDSELLER: ...Do you want to call the suicide hotline?
JOHANNA: No, no, I'm fine.
BIRDSELLER: ...if you say so. I'm leaving.
JOHANNA: Kay. See you tomorrow.
MEANWHILE, ACROSS THE STREET...
ANTHONY: OMG OMG A PRETTY GIRL I MUST MARRY HER.
BEGGAR WOMAN: Well, you're not exactly who I had in mind for my—
ANTHONY: (claps a hand over her mouth) No spoilers!
BEGGAR WOMAN: Oops. Sorry.
ANTHONY: Anyway, do you know that girl's name?
BEGGAR WOMAN: Johanna.
ANTHONY: JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA!
BEGGAR WOMAN: Just Johanna, actually.
ANTHONY: JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA!
BEGGAR WOMAN: No, just Johanna.
ANTHONY: JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA!
BEGGAR WOMAN: ...I give up.
TOBY: (holding up bottle of a questionable liquid) Guys. This stuff is like totally amazing. It saved my life. You can grow a ton of hair, superfast! Buy some NOW, a penny a bottle!
TOWNSPERSON #1: ...if it's so great, why is it only a penny?
TOBY: Because...because...Signor Pirelli is so NICE!
ASSORTED TOWNSPEOPLE: ...
TOWNSPERSON #2: Well, that makes sense.
TOWNSPERSON #3: Definitely. I'll take two bottles!
SWEENEY: (popping up) This is piss and ink, guys. Seriously, how stupid are you?
ASSORTED TOWNSPEOPLE: (sniff sniff) You're RIGHT! DIE, PIRELLI, FOR MAKING US LOOK LIKE IDIOTS!
PIRELLI: Uhhhhhhhhhhhh-a...
SWEENEY: Wanna have a barbering contest?
PIRELLI: Yes-a! Definitely-a! But-a you-a will-a LOSE-A! Ha.
SWEENEY: ...riiiiiight. Hey, Beadle Bamford, will you judge it? Pretty please?
BEADLE: Sounds fun!
PIRELLI: But-a you-a, sir-a, are-a going-a to-a LOSE-A! Because-a barbering-a is an art-a! In-a fact-a, I went-a to barbering-a college-a for-a twelve-a years-a to learn-a to-a be-a this-a good-a. And-a—
SWEENEY: (snip snip snip) Done!
BEADLE: (points at Sweeney) He wins.
PIRELLI: Dang-a it-a.
SWEENEY: Your accent sounds kind of fake, you know.
PIRELLI: Well-a, it-a isn't-a. Toby-a, we're-a leaving-a.
BEADLE: So, Mr. Todd, can I come visit your shop?
SWEENEY: Yes, and I'll give you the closest shave of your life! Heh heh. Heh heh. MWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
BEADLE: Okay, see you then! (walks off, unsuspicious)
MRS. LOVETT: Well, this shopping trip was more plot-advancing than I anticipated.
MRS. LOVETT: FLOOOOOOWERS ARE PRETTTTTTTTTTY—
SWEENEY: Why isn't the beadle here yet? (sings) He meant to be here by Sunday, that's what he said—
MRS. LOVETT: I'm sure he'll come. And stop sounding so much like Johanna.
SWEENEY: ...what?
MRS. LOVETT: ...nothing. Anyway. Flowers, yah?
SWEENEY: Whatever. Nothing matters until he COMES!
MRS. LOVETT: Just wait, hon. He'll be here in a jiffy, I'm sure. Patience is a virtue, you know.
ANTHONY: Oh Mr. TO-ODD!
MRS. LOVETT: ...you know this kid, love?
SWEENEY: Unfortunately. So, did you bring my CDs?
ANTHONY: I sure did! (hands them to Sweeney)
SWEENEY: Ah, Frank, I missed you.
MRS. LOVETT: ...
SWEENEY: ...
ANTHONY: ...
SWEENEY: So, what's new with you, Anthony?
ANTHONY: Well, I met a girl—
MRS. LOVETT: (to Sweeney) Nice going, love, now he'll never shut up.
ANTHONY: Blah blah blah blah blah JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA.
SWEENEY: Come again?
ANTHONY: JOHAAAAAAAAAANNNA. That's her name. She lives with a nasty old judge and—
SWEENEY: HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP.
MRS. LOVETT: Hush, love. (to Anthony) Now, since you were planning on rescuing her—
ANTHONY: ...Rescuing her?
MRS. LOVETT: Yeah. Bring her here.
ANTHONY: ...okay. Bye. See you soon! (skips off)
SWEENEY: ...WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
MRS. LOVETT: I was thinking you could kill him or something, love.
SWEENEY: Okay, what's up with the 'love' thing?
MRS. LOVETT: What love thing?
SWEEENEY: Don't think I haven't noticed it.
MRS. LOVETT: Well, uh, well, uh, well, uh, well, uh—
PIRELLI: I-a am-a here-a!
TOBY: And so am I!
PIRELLI: Shut-a up-a, kid-a. I-a need-a to-a talk-a to-a Mr.-a Todd-a.
MRS. LOVETT: (leading Toby away) Here, I'll get you a pie, hon. Fresh last month!
SWEENEY: Sooooo...
PIRELLI: The jig is up, Barker.
SWEENEY: Ha! I knew that accent was fake, you liar—wait, what did you call me?
PIRELLI: I'm, you know, that guy.
SWEENEY: Oh. That one.
PIRELLI: Yes. So gimme some cash. Because I can tell everyone about you being Benjamin Barker and not really supposed to be here. And also about those bloodthirsty tendencies you used to exhibit—oh, crap.
SWEENEY: DIIIIIIIIIIIIE!
PIRELLI: Ow. I am partially dead.
TOBY: Mr. Todd?
SWEENEY: AAAAH! *hides Pirelli in a trunk before Toby comes in* What is it, laddie-me-boy-laddio?
TOBY: ...I was just wondering where Signor Pirelli was.
SWEENEY: He's...in the bathroom.
TOBY: Um, okay. I was just, you know, wondering about those screams, but, uh, bye.
SWEENEY: Bye. (when Toby is gone, he opens the trunk) Okay, DIIIIIIIIE! For real this time.
PIRELLI: Ow. I am completely dead.
SWEENEY: (tossing Pirelli back in the trunk) Well, there's ONE problem taken care of.
JUDGE TURPIN: Boy, Johanna looks HAWT today. (turns head) No! Bad Smeagol! (turns head back) But she's so preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetty... (turns head) But—(turns back) NO! She's pretty. All your arguments are invalid. I'm marrying Johanna ay-sap. JOHANNA!
JOHANNA: (is staring out the window at Anthony) Whaaaa?
JUDGE TURPIN: We're getting married on Monday. Kay?
JOHANNA: WHAAAAAAAA?
JUDGE TURPIN: Hey! There's the beadle! I'm gonna go tell him the happy news.
JOHANNA: WHAAAAAAAA?
ANTHONY: Pssst! Johanna!
JOHANNA: Okay, NOW I need to call the suicide hotline.
ANTHONY: I have a plan. You're going to marry me instead of Judge Turpin.
JOHANNA: Now THAT sounds like a plan.
ANTHONY: Kiss me!
JOHANNA: Oh sir!
ANTHONY: Ah miss!
MEANWHILE...
JUDGE TURPIN: So, Beadle, I'm marrying Johanna, but she didn't seem too excited when I told her. What do you think is the issue?
BEADLE: Hmm. Well, obviously it isn't the fact that you're five decades older than her.
JUDGE TURPIN: Obviously.
BEADLE: Or that you raped someone in public.
JUDGE TURPIN: Well, I'm sure THAT'S not it.
BEADLE: Or that you've made her look at you like a father figure your entire life.
JUDGE TURPIN: Of course not.
BEADLE: So I'm going to guess it's that there's some stubble on your cheek.
JUDGE TURPIN: AHHHH IS THERE REALLY? OH NOES!
BEADLE: I know, I know. It's terrible. But I know a barber you can go to, and then Johanna will definitely probably love you maybe.
JUDGE TURPIN: PHEW!
BEADLE: His name is Todd, and he works on Fleet Street.
JUDGE TURPIN: Coolio.
MEANWHILE...
ANTHONY: You know, Jo, I think we should get married on Sunday instead.
JOHANNA: Okay! Saturday would be good too! Or today...right now...hey, what was your name?
ANTHONY: Anthony.
JOHANNA: Anthony! Oh sir!
ANTHONY: Ah miss!
JOHANNA: Oh sir!
ANTHONY: Ah miss!
JOHANNA: Oh sir!
ANTHONY: Ah miss!
JOHANNA: Oh sir!
BIRDSELLER: OH, SHUT UP ALREADY!
JUDGE TURPIN: Hey, Mr. Todd? Can I have a shave?
SWEENEY: Why, yes you can sir. Here, sit in this chair. Don't mind me cackling maniacally in the corner to myself here.
JUDGE TURPIN: All right then, I won't. Say, I'm getting married on Monday! Ain't that grand?
SWEENEY: Uh, sure. Who are you marrying?
JUDGE TURPIN: My daughter.
SWEENEY: ...
JUDGE TURPIN: Well, not my legal daughter. She's just my ward. Johanna.
SWEENEY: ...HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP NOT MY BABY
JUDGE TURPIN: What was that?
SWEENEY: I said...PRETTY WOMEN!
JUDGE TURPIN: Okay. PRETTY WOMEN!
BOTH: DOING LOTS OF...THIIIINGS! ARE PRETTY! AND WOMEN! LA LA LA!
SWEENEY: Well, this is fun, but I'm afraid I'll have to kill you now—
ANTHONY: (bursting in) I'm getting' married in the mor-ning! To Johanna! Who I love! Wait, should that be 'whom'?
SWEENEY: ANTHONY. WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FREAKING—
JUDGE TURPIN: ...wait, what?
SWEENEY: He said...PRETTY WOMEN!
JUDGE TURPIN: No he didn't! He said he was going to get married to Johanna!
ANTHONY: Well, this is awkward.
JUDGE TURPIN: I'm going to lock her up where you'll never find her! Ha ha ha ha ha! (leaves)
SWEENEY: ANTHONY. YOU. COMPLETE—
ANTHONY: Well, uh, it's been grand but I've gotta go. See you later tonight.
SWEENEY: aeoirjfdvcklxm ,kdlfsjyueiorwhfdcnkvmf
MRS. LOVETT: (rushing upstairs) What is it, love?
SWEENEY: EVERYBODY SUCKS AND THEY SHOULD ALL DIE AND I HATE THEM AND YEAH.
MRS. LOVETT: ...
SWEENEY: So here's the plan. I'm going to kill everyone that comes to me for a shave. How does that sound?
MRS. LOVETT: Okay. ...Can I bake their corpses into pies?
SWEENEY: Hmm. I dunno. Even for me, that seems a bit...morally dubious.
MRS. LOVETT: (tantalizingly) Aaaaaand we get to make puuuuuuuuuuuuns...
SWEENEY: REALLY? ? ? ?
MRS. LOVETT: Yep. LOTS and LOTS of puns.
SWEENEY: All right, you've sold me. Let's get started!
~THE CURTAIN FALLS FOR INTERMISSION~
So, I wrote this during the seven hours today in which I listened to the Sweeney soundtrack. I think I'm going insane. It's fun.
Reviews are loved, always. Flames, not particularly. :)*
*This is an EVIL face. AJ knows.