Thanks to Crysta Mayville and Nausicaa of the Spirits for reviewing! Now, onward with chapter two!
A/N: If you see numbers by a certain passage, refer to the footnotes at the end of the chapter
Disclaimer: I own nothing...
Jack walked down towards Fleet Street, recalling some of the memories of his former life. He saw the church that he went to before he was sent off to prison and the Vicar Clement Hedges (Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit) was standing outside of the church, greeting the people going into it; the fish merchant, William Van Dort (Corpse Bride) was busily supervising the sales of his fish.
Jack felt a grumbling in his stomach after looking at all of those fish being fried up or made into sushi. It had been awhile since he had eaten anything decent. But conveniently, there was a bratwurst shop (1) across the way. It was apparently owned by a Mrs. Walker (2). Where had he heard that name before?
He walked in to see a 16-year-old girl with wavy, medium-blonde hair up in high, messy pigtails; she had pale skin, freckles and greenish-brownish-grayish-bluish eyes; she wore a blackish-brownish, corseted dress with a bit of sparkly trim on it; she wore glasses that had black rims on the top of them. She chopped away at some carrots for a side of soup to serve with her brats. Just as it looked like she was about to collapse from extreme boredom, she looked up to see Jack.
"A customer!" she gasped excitedly, jabbing her knife into the slicing block.
Jack thought, "Oh, no…I remember her…she was that crazy broad who was the landlady for Antoinette and me."
She skipped over giddily to him while singing,
"Wait, what's yer rush? What's yer hurry?
You gave me such a—
Fright, I thought you was a ghost!"
She took him over to a table, where she sat him down, but he kept on trying to get away in the process but Mrs. Walker kept him down.
"Half a minute, can'tcher sit!
Sit you down, sit!
All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks!
Did ya come in for a brat, sir?
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague—
What was that?"
A bug scurried across the butcher block, but she flicked it away.
"But you think we had the plague!
From the way that people
Keep avoiding --
No you don't!
Heaven knows I try, sir!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale!
Right you are, sir,
Would you like a drop of ale?"
She dropped a brat on to a dusty plate and blew the dust off.
"Mind you, I can't hardly blame them!
These are probably the worst brats in London!
I know why nobody cares to take them,
I should know,
I make them,
But good? No!
The worst brats in London,
Even that's polite!
The worst brats in London,
If you doubt it, take a bite!"
Jack bit into it, but the taste was far from pleasant; it tasted like a combination of
bad cheese, spoiled milk, dog food, and chicken from Medieval Times. He spit it out.
"Is that just disgusting?
You have to concede it!
It's nothing but casing!
Here, drink this, you'll need it!
The worst brats in London...
And no wonder with the price of meat
What it is
When you get it
Never
Thought I'd live to see the day
Men'd think it was a treat
Findin' poor
Animals
Wot are dyin' in the street!
Mrs. Mooney has a brat shop!
Does a business but I notice something weird.
Lately all her neighbors' cats have disappeared!"
Jack continued to spit out bits of gritty meat. He could hardly take it anymore, so he took a swig of ale. Turns out, the rum went bad a long time ago. He tried not to vomit as he gagged that nasty drink down.
"Have to hand it to her --
Wot I calls
Enterprise
Poppin' pussies into brats!
Wouldn't do in my shop!
Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick!
And I'm tellin' you, them pussycats is quick!
No denying times is hard, sir
Even harder than the worst brats in London!
Only lard and nothing more --
Is that just revolting,
All greasy and gritty?
It looks like it's molting,
And tastes like,
Well, pity
A woman alone,
With limited wind,
And the worst brats in London!
Ah, sir, times is hard,
Times is hard!"
Mrs. Walker then saw another insect make its way across the table, but she squished it just in time before it got to the bratwurst buns.
"Trust me dearie," Mrs. Walker said, sighing a bit. "It's gonna take more than ale to wash that taste out. If you want something really good to get that taste out, suivez-moi." (3)
She led him to a tiny little den in one corner of the shop. On the way there, Jack spotted something that was all too familiar: the staircase that led to his former apartment.
As they entered the den, Mrs. Walker said, "It ain't the best living-room in London, but at least it keeps itself warm during the winter. The unicorn wall-paper and statues freak me out, they've been here since I've moved in, but I haven't taken the initiative to get rid of those freaky things…anyway, here's a glass of rum. Go ahead and sit down, warm your bones." She handed Jack a shot-glass of rum and he drank it down as if he needed it to save his life.
"You've got an apartment over your little shop (hiccup); If times is so hard, why don't you rent it out to some desperate drunkard (hiccup)?" Jack asked.
"That dump up there?" She answered. "Oh, no. People won't even look at it. They think it's haunted."
"Haunted?"
(1) I know in the original musical, it's supposed to be meat pies, but where I come from, bratwursts could buy meat pies 43598 times over.
(2) If you're wondering, "Why Mrs. Walker?", Johnny Depp played Wade "Cry-Baby" Walker in Cry Baby.
(3) It means "follow me" en Français.
End of Chapter! What'd you guys think of this chapter? I know, the lyrics were a bit longer than the actual story, but que sera sera, y'know?
Happy Reviewing!
Harry's Girl 01031992
