Nellie Lovett was enjoying playing house, with Mr. T as her husband and dear, stupid little Toby as her son.
However, Mr. T was getting rather tired of her feeding him the make believe food she was constantly cooking. He also didn't fit very well in the treehouse. Slowly and painfully while sustaining many splinters, he climbed down from the tree.
With Mr. T gone, Nellie sighed. Tobias was sitting cluelessly in the corner of the small wooden room.
"Toby?"
"Yes ma'am?"
"What the hell kind of a name is Tobias?"

Most people would look hurt or seem offended by such a question, but Nellie had learned in the past few days that he was a bit slow. He simply shrugged. She sighed once more.
Her earlier attempts at seducing her sexy skunk haired man had failed. She had simply suggested that they get a house by the seaside and "sleep" in the same bed. Nothing wrong with that, she said. Just the two of them by the beautiful sea and some seagulls to drown out the noise.
"What noise?" Mr. T had asked with concern.
"Oh, nothing. It will be legitimate by the seaside. We'll be married by then... And by that beautiful sea..." She said with a seductive (or so she thought!) wink.
It is now, dear reader, that I invite you to place your mind gently down in that dirty, disgusting gutter. You thought correctly, although Mr. T was having trouble understanding the gestures.
To the barber, it looked like she was having some sort of twitching fit. He grimaced.
And that's why he had left the small treehouse. True, this thing called the sun wasn't very pleasant (it rarely showed up on Fleet Street), but it was better than being with that woman.
She was beginning to act like that crazy woman who liked to hang about Judge Turpin's house...
What was her name?
Oh, that's right. Johanna.

In the past 15 minutes she had been exactly like her, failing horribly at singing about her fantasies and shrieking ridiculously high notes while staring at a man. The two were exactly alike.

Mrs. Lovett was watching him sitting on the picnic blanket by himself, brooding away like he always did. She sighed. Toby stared at her. The only thing he had actually noticed was that she was sighing a lot. He silently wondered if she was having trouble breathing...

Now the dull boy was making odd faces. He was definitely slow. Of course, out of all the orphaned boys in London, Mr. T had to make it so that this one fell into her care. She sighed again.

She needed to get drunk.