The body of a local church deacon fell through Sweeney Todd's trap door in his barber shop. Smiling, the demon barber snatched an old rag off the table, and whistling to himself, lovingly wiped the crimson blood off his favorite blade. Surprisingly, he only had a little bit of the man's blood on his face, which he wiped away on the back of his hand. Sweeney looked up at the loud dinging of the bell above the door, and Anthony came running into the room.

"Dad, guess what?" the young man said breathlessly.

"For the last time, Anthony, I AM NOT YOUR FATHER!" Sweeny shouted. "You may call me Mr. Todd, nothing else." Anthony looked to the wooden floorboards.

"Sorry, Dad" he replied. Sweeney sighed loudly, and looked toward Anthony.

"So, what is it you want now?" Sweeney asked, still irritated.

"Johanna waved to me, and then she threw me the key to her room! I think she really likes me!"

"Oh God… well, that's good for you. Run along, now" Sweeney replied, quite uninterested in the boy's story.

Looking depressed, Anthony left the shop, and headed for Judge Turpin's house.

It had been a few hours since Anthony left to see Johanna again, and in the meantime, Sweeney had provided three fresh bodies for Mrs. Lovett's pies. He had another customer in the chair, a demonic smile creeping onto his face. Whistling softly, he brought the razor close to the man's neck, and took a deep breath as her prepared to slice. The jingling of the doorbell broke his concentration, and Anthony rushed into the room again, his long hair askew.

"Hey, Dad, guess what Johanna did? She actually-". He was cut off mid-sentence as Sweeney grabbed a teapot and flung it at Anthony's head. It hit him in the forehead, knocking him out cold, his slender body hitting the floor with a loud thud.

"My word, you could have killed the poor boy!" the customer said worriedly, casting a surprised look at Sweeney.

"You're right. I could have. But he's not the one who has to worry about dying." Sweeney responded, his smile returning. He rapidly sliced the man's throat, and was coated in the blood that spewed from his neck. Sweeny pressed the foot petal on the chair, and the dead man slid down the hatch into the basement, his bones breaking as he hit the floor.

A little while later, Anthony came to, and saw Sweeney standing over him, looking unhappy.

"Oh, hi Da- I mean, Mr. Todd" he said sleepily.

"You mustn't come in when I have a customer!" Sweeney scolded.

"Sorry, but I wanted to tell you that Johanna told me that she really appreciated me stopping by every day!"

"Wow, you are such a stalker. She probably told you that just to get you to leave her alone." Sweeney replied.

"I am not a stalker!"

"You're right, I'm sorry. Here, let me help you up" Sweeney said with false kindness, extending his hand to Anthony, who gratefully accepted the assistance.

"Now, just step over here, and I'll give you something to do" Sweeney said, escorting him over to the trapdoor leading to the oven room in the basement.

"You can go help Mrs. Lovett with the pies" Sweeney explained, positioning Anthony on the trapdoor.

"Okay, so how do you- AAAAHHHHHHH!" Anthony screamed as the floor dropped from beneath him, sending him down to the basement.

"Owwwww… I think my leg is broken…" Anthony muttered from below.

"Maybe now you'll learn to not interrupt me, and to stop asking so many questions!" Sweeney shouted.

"Sorry, Dad" the young man replied.

"DON'T CALL ME DAD!" Sweeney hollered, shutting the trapdoor, and smiling politely as another customer entered the shop.

"Well, Sir, would you like a shave?" Sweeney asked, holding out his favorite razor.

With his leg bleeding, Anthony limped up the stairs to Mrs. Lovett's pie shop, and saw the woman making a pie behind the counter.

"Mommy, Daddy hurt my leg!" he moaned, sounding quite similar to a whining toddler.

"Anthony, how many times must I tell you I'm not your mother? And Mr. Todd isn't your father?"

"Sorry, but he sent me down the trap door, and it hurt really bad!"

"Well, maybe if you stopped calling him Dad, he'd be kind to you."

The young man scowled, and joined Mrs. Lovett's side.

"So, Mommy, what kind of pie are you making?"

"Anthony, please don't call me Mommy. Anyway, I'm making shepard's pie, with real shepard filling!"

Not realizing that Mrs. Lovett used people in her pies, Anthony shrugged it off, and set to work on making his first pie. It came out sloppy and mushy, and he received a glare from Mrs. Lovett at his poor skills. Not wanting to disappoint his "mom", the young man kept trying, each one coming out worse than the last. After using up much of Mrs. Lovett's patience and resources, Anthony was scolded, and firmly told to leave the kitchen.

"But Mom, I wanna help!" Anthony whined loudly, stamping his foot like an impatient toddler.

"Get out, Anthony. You can try again tomorrow."

"But Mom!"

"OUT!" Mrs. Lovett picked up her rolling pin, and whipped it at Anthony. It made a loud thud against his skull, and he fell, sprawled out on the dusty kitchen floor.

"My word, that lad will never learn" Mrs. Lovett though aloud, and continued to whip up a fresh batch of priest.