Sweeney's Nightmare

Sweeney never liked picnics.

Today, Mrs. Lovett barged into his room, pulled him out of his chair, looked straight into his eyes and said, "Me and Toby are goin' on a picnic. The sun'll do ya some good, Mr. T."

After a few moments of akward silence and mean glares coming from Mrs. Lovett, she said rather harshly, "You're coming whether ya like it or not."

He didn't want to go. Especially not with her. She can be so loud sometimes. Okay, all the time. He really just wanted to polish off a few blokes and be left with his thoughts of Lucy. Lucy…

But not today. Today he was sitting under a willow tree, out in the sun. Why does the sun make her so bloody happy? It's just a big ball of gas in the sky. Nothing more.

Mrs. Lovett continued to blabber on about something. He could swear he heard her murmur the word taxidermy. TAXERDERMY for crying out loud! What is wrong with this woman? Has she gone totally insane?

Oh dear. She asked me something. "Of course," he stated in a monotone voice.

I bet the bloody judge is sitting in his court right now, condemning another soul to a cruel fate. That pompous, stupid, bloody ol' judge

"There must be a way to the judge," he said in almost a whisper

Great, now Mrs. Lovett is yelling at me. Great, just wonderful. What did I do now? Wait… what's going on? Why is she kissing me? Okay, Sweeney just act natural. If you respond, you know this will go way to far. Oh no! Another question.

"Of course," he said flatly. "Do ya really wanna know?" she asked in a tiny little voice.

"Yes, I do," Sweeney simply stated.

Suddenly, they were no longer under the willow tree.