Scene Ten:

Author's Note: This chapter only includes "Pretty Women" and the tiniest bit of "Epiphany", because I have Big Plans for the fantasy sequence, or whatever it's called. Anyway, this was five pages on Microsoft Word, so it's a decent length, at least. Enjoy. Also, thanks for reviewing!

Disclaimer: If you think that I own this, you've probably been sharing a glass with Lucy Barker. In other words, no I don't.

Scene Ten: Yes, Sir, and Performing Tap Dances!

(Toby sits with Mrs. Lovett in her shop, guzzling gin from the bottle.)

Mrs. Lovett: You might want to slow down, lad. There won't be enough left for me to get a decent buzz at this point.

Toby: Don't tell me what to do, woman. (Gazes at her.) Do you want to see a picture I drew of us? I call it "Portrait of Me with My Head Cushioned on the Snow-Covered Hills of Mrs. Lovett's Chest".

Mrs. Lovett: That's nice, dear. I think I'll go check on Mr. Todd.

Toby: You go do that, mum. (Sighs.) I'll just drown my sorrows in gin while you devote yourself to another man.

Mrs. Lovett: Wonderful, dear. I'll just-

Toby: (interrupting her) Oh, God! Oh, God! How flat, stale, weary, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!

Mrs. Lovett: How lovely, dear!

(She rushes upstairs, where Sweeney is busy brooding.)

Mrs. Lovett: Good Lord, Mr. Todd, that boy can hold his liquor! Gets a bit sentimental, but still… (Notices the bloodstain on his shirt.) Is that…character development?

(Sweeney nods. Mrs. Lovett opens the lid of the trunk, sees Pirelli's corpse, and slams the trunk close.)

Mrs. Lovett: Was that really necessary, Mr. T.? I mean, sure, he was a nasty little man, but still. I'm beginning to think that you aren't 100 sane.

Sweeney: It was convenient!

Mrs. Lovett: Well, then, that's different.

(She proceeds to open the trunk and strip Pirelli of his purse, jewelry, bobby-pins, and everything else that isn't bloodstained.)

Mrs. Lovett: Waste not, want not.

Sweeney: Why would you want Pirelli's underpants, though?

Mrs. Lovett: No reason. Heh.

(Sweeney sighs and looks out the window. He spots Judge Turpin with the Beadle.)

Sweeney: Oh-my-God-oh-my-God-oh-my-God! This is like Christmas and my birthday and the Second Coming and Pizza Day at the prison all rolled into one! (Lets out a girlish squeal.) Look at me, Mrs. Lovett! How do I look? Do I look okay?

Mrs. Lovett: You have a bloodstain on your shirt.

Sweeney: Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no! What should I do? Should I go shirtless? Would that be weird? Can I borrow one of your shirts, Mrs. Lovett? No, wait, I can't do that. You're a woman. WHY ARE YOU A WOMAN, MRS. LOVETT? YOUR LADY PARTS HAVE RUINED MY LIFE! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, MRS. LOVETT? HUH? ARE YOU?

Mrs. Lovett: No, but-

Sweeney: What if I dipped my shirt in blood? Then I would have a red shirt! He wouldn't suspect a thing!

Mrs. Lovett: Or you could wear a jacket.

Sweeney: Oh. Yeah. (Puts on jacket.) Now get out of here, Mrs. Lovett, before you ruin my vengeance with your quick thinking and brilliant plans!

(Mrs. Lovett leaves. In a few moments, Judge Turpin enters.)

Judge: Mr. Todd?

Sweeney: MWA-HA-HA! MWA-HA-HA! MWA-HA-HA! (Rubs hands together in an evil manner before putting on a straight face.) Yes, I am Mr. Todd. You must be Judge Turpin. I'm going to kill…I mean, thrill you with my skill in barbering today.

Judge: How did you know my name? Are you, by any chance, Benjamin Barker?

Sweeney: Nope.

Judge: (sighing with relief) It would be so awkward if you were. See, I kind of…well, it's a little embarrassing.

Sweeney: Oh, do tell.

Judge: I transported him to Australia for life as punishment for a crime that he didn't commit. Then I raped his wife, who poisoned herself afterwards. Now I'm planning to force his teenaged daughter to marry me. I call it my "Evil Trifecta". (Sighs.) Man, if you were him, I bet you'd be filled with murderous rage right now.

Sweeney: (suppressing an urge to vomit) Why don't you sit in this chair and close your eyes while I hold a sharp object to your face?

Judge: That sounds great. (Sits in the chair.) Ah, isn't love-or, as I like to call it, obsessive lust with incestuous implications-awesome?

Sweeney: Uh-huh. (Begins to shave Judge Turpin.) You know what else is awesome? Women.

Judge: Oh, my God! You like women, too? What a strange coincidence!

Sweeney: Pretty women!

Judge: Pretty? I was going to go with "naked" or "promiscuous".

Sweeney: (to his razor) I'm going to have such a good time killing this bastard.

Judge: What did you say?

Sweeney: Nothing, sir.

Judge: I'm pretty sure you said that you were going to kill me.

Sweeney: Me? Kill you? How delightfully absurd! Why don't we list all the mundane things that pretty women do?

Judge: Like refusing my advances?

Sweeney: Yes, sir, and performing tap dances!

Judge: Memorizing sonnets!

Sweeney: Purchasing bonnets!

Judge: Buttering toast!

Sweeney: Burning the roast!

Judge: Practicing voodoo!

Sweeney: Losing the Battle of Waterloo!

Judge: Catching the measles!

Sweeney: Wrangling weasels!

Judge: Holding grudges!

Sweeney: Killing judges!

Judge: Huh?

(Anthony bursts inside.)

Anthony: Mr. Todd! Mr. Todd! You've got to help me! Tim Burton cut "Kiss Me"! He won't even include a scene where Johanna and I talk about running away and getting married, let alone sing! My character will be woefully underdeveloped! (Sees Judge Turpin.) Oh, shit.

Judge: You? Elope with my Johanna! The very idea!

Anthony: Oh, no, sir. She's not your Johanna. She's Johanna Silberstein, the watchmaker's daughter, who lives on Chancery Shoe Court Lane Street. She has absolutely no connection with you whatsoever.

Judge: I don't care! I'll stop you anyway! (To Sweeney) I can't believe you're friends with him! He has googly eyes and, besides, the Beadle says he's a tease.

(Judge Turpin storms out of the shop.)

Sweeney: Anthony?

Anthony: Yes?

Sweeney: We're not friends anymore.

Anthony: But…there's only us. There's only this. Forget regret, or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way. No day but today!

Sweeney: Anthony.

Anthony: Yes?

Sweeney: You cannot do Rent right now. I'm in no mood.

Anthony: But…but…

Sweeney: OUT, I SAY! OUT!

(Anthony runs out the door, down the stairs, and across the street, singing all the while.)

Anthony: I can't control…

Sweeney: Control your temper!

Anthony: …my destiny.

Sweeney: He doesn't see…

Anthony: I trust my soul!

Sweeney: Who says that there's a soul?

Anthony: My only goal is just to be!

Sweeney: Just let me be!

(A breathless Mrs. Lovett enters.)

Mrs. Lovett: I just got a call from the Rent fandom! Apparently, Roger Davis started singing about how "we all deserve to die" or some such nonsense. Then he held a razor to Mimi's throat. Of course, it was a safety razor, but still, everybody's very upset. They're saying that it's your fault. What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Todd?

Sweeney: Do you remember my last fragments of sanity?

Mrs. Lovett: Yes. Fondly.

Sweeney: I seem to have misplaced them.

Author's Note: In the next chapter, Sweeney searches for the mythical Raintree. Or perhaps he does not.