Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd.

Note: Back to my musical parodies! Short, sweet, and to the point, I suppose. Based mostly off of the movie version. Also, there's many references to Harry Potter. Perhaps too many. But who cares; half the cast is in the movie version anyway.


Anthony: OMG ISN'T LONDON TOTALLY LIKE, THE COOLEST PLACE EVER?!

Sweeney: Oh, yes. Definitely. *grumbles under breath* moron.

Anthony: CAN'T YOU WAIT TO GO BACK TO LONDON, MR. TODD?!

Sweeney: Uh. No. It's a pretty shitty place.

Anthony: I CAN'T WAIT TO GO BACK! Wait, did you say something?

Sweeney: Not a thing. *mumbles* dim-witted loser.

Anthony: So, what will you do when you get back?

Sweeney: Oh, nothing. Find my wife, maybe kill some people…

Anthony: Come again?

Sweeney: I said, uh, maybe fill some…holes…you know…

Anthony: Mmkay. If you need me, I shall be skipping down the streets of this amazing city, picking tulips and singing about girls I don't even know!

Sweeney: Goodbye! *mutters* and good riddance.

Sweeney: *wanders around* Oh hey look, a meat pie shop that just happens to be below the place that used to be my barber shop. What a coincidence!

Mrs. Lovett: HOLY SHITBALLS, A CUSTOMER! Hey, wanna pie? It's, um, it's…huh. It should be fresh. In fact, it might be fresh. Then again, it may not be…

Sweeney: Uh, no thanks. Hey, do you know anything about my super-hot and blonde wife who should definitely still be waiting for me after fifteen years?

Mrs. Lovett: Oh, her. She poisoned herself.

Sweeney: WHAT?

Mrs. Lovett: And your daughter was taken by the guy who raped your wife after he sent you to that island country we don't speak of because only convicts go there.

Sweeney: MY LIFE FUCKING SUCKS.

Mrs. Lovett: But…but…I have your razors!

Sweeney: I'M BEING EMO OVER—wait, what did you say?

Mrs. Lovett: Your razors. I snuck into your apartment after your wife, uh, "was poisoned" and took them because, you know. You might come back. And use them. For murder. Or not. After all, the barber business does come into a lot of money…

Sweeney: Go back to that first idea again?

Mrs. Lovett: Murder?

Sweeney: Yeah, that one. Works for me-eeeeeeee!

Mrs. Lovett: I'm sure that won't come back to bite us on the ass at all…

Anthony: WHY DOESN'T MY SAILOR'S COMPASS WORK ON THESE STREETS? WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T—oh hey, a hot girl in a window!

Johanna: Sigh. Birds. I can't remember my parents and my creepy guardian cut a peephole in my door which I totally noticed, thanks very much!

Anthony: I DON'T KNOW YOUR NAME BUT I DON'T—

Beggar Woman: Johanna.

Anthony: What?

Beggar Woman: Her name is Johanna. Her father is—

Anthony: DON'T CARE. I'MA SING ABOUT HER NOW.

Judge Turpin: Miiiiiiister Hope?

Anthony: THAT'S MY NAME, HOMIE.

Judge Turpin: Ten points from Gryffindor!

Anthony: But I'm totally a Hufflepuff!

Judge Turpin: Ah. Well then. Sorry about that. Anyway, my "daughter" is off-limits. No looking, no touching, and no running through the streets singing about her.

Anthony: …

Judge Turpin: Wanna look at my porn?

Anthony: …bye!

Mrs. Lovett: Ah, don't you just love market day? I just ADORE market day.

Sweeney: Uh-huh, now can we talk about murder again?

Mrs. Lovett: Ay! Morning, noon, and night, that's all you ever want to talk about! Why can't we talk about me, about my feelings?

Sweeney: Shut up, woman.

Toby: Heyyyy y'aaalllll try out this "elixir" that isn't at all pee and ink in a bottle!

Pirelli: SHUT. UP. TOBY.

Crowd: *stares blankly*

Pirelli: Eh, pay no attention to him. He's, uh, how you say, a mere child!

Toby: I'm twelve.

Pirelli: ENOUGH! Anyway, I'm definitely the best barber in the world.

Sweeney: Bitch, please. I challenge you…to a contest!

Pirelli: It's on. Oh, how it's on. Now let me tell you exactly how to shave someone's beard, in great detail. First, you gotta mix the lather. Lather is very important. And then you can blow bubbles with the extra soap. Bubbles are fun, especially when—

Sweeney: Done.

Beadle: OMG, YOU'RE TOTALLY THE BEST AND I WILL COME VISIT YOU "SOON". WHICH COULD MEAN A DAY. OR THREE. MAYBE A MONTH.

Sweeney: Eh, I was looking for the Judge. But you'll do!

Beadle: I'm sure that won't bite me on the ass at all!

Sweeney: Where the hell is he?!

Mrs. Lovett: Chill the fuck out, would you?

Sweeney: BUT HE SAID SOON.

Mrs. Lovett: …it's been ten minutes since we've been home.

Sweeney: Oh. Right.

Pirelli: YO, BENNY.

Sweeney: How did you—ah crap.

Pirelli: GIVE ME ALL YO' MONEY.

Sweeney: LOL. Nope. *hits "Pirelli" over the head with a teapot that he just happened to have boiling on the stove at the time* what a convienent murder weapon!

Pirelli: Urgle…argle…

Sweeney: Oh, well, maybe not so much. Thank God I have this razor!

Pirelli: So many regrets…I'm dead! *dies*

Toby: So, what you're saying is, you'll let me have all the food I want at little or no cost to me? And all I have to do is sign this monthly dining plan?

Mrs. Lovett: Thaaaat's right! All this can be yours if the price is right!

Toby: SWEET!

Judge Turpin: So! This place was recommended to me by my Beadle. Are you, by any chance, Sweeney Todd?

Sweeney: THAT'S MY NAME, DON'T WEAR IT OUT!

Judge Turpin: Good! Now, I'm only gonna marry your sixteen year old daughter and have wild crazy sex with her every night until I croak of old age—which shouldn't be too long now—but first, I need to be shaved.

Sweeney: Right-o. Just sit in this, uh, throne, your Royal Turpin-ness.

Judge Turpin: Women are the best. Especially teenage girls, you know.

Sweeney: Actually, I wouldn't know about teenage girls. Because, as you know, my daughter was taken away from me when she was a year old.

Judge Turpin: What a coincidence! Hey, you're uh, digging into my throat there…

Anthony: OMGGG MR. SWEENEY DUDE I'M TOTALLY GONNA MARRY YOUR DAUGHTER AND IT'LL BE AWESOME AND WE'LL BE IN-LAWS!

Sweeney: …seriously. Fuck my life.

Judge Turpin: TURPIN, OUT! *swishes cloak and exits*

Mrs. Lovett: What the bloody hell?

Sweeney: FUCK EVERYTHING. BITCHES WILL DIE.

Mrs. Lovett: Orrrrrrr we can bake them into piiiiiiiiieeeesssss…

Sweeney: DIE, DIE, EVERYBODY DIE—wait, what?

Mrs. Lovett: Yeah. I need money, you want revenge. It's a pretty good deal, if you ask me. Look, you kill people, and I'll bake them into pies.

Sweeney: Do we get to make puns about the people we kill?

Mrs. Lovett: Yes.

Sweeney: You've got yourself a deal!

Toby: Workiiiiiiiin' in a pie shop! OH YEAH! I'm workiiiiin' in a pie shop!

Mrs. Lovett: What do you think this is, Oliver!? Now stop that singing.

Toby: Ma'am, why do customers never come out of Mr. Todd's shop?

Mrs. Lovett: Uh. Well. They use the Invisibility Cloak, of course.

Toby: That makes PERFECT sense! *skips off merrily*

Mrs. Lovett: Phew. Now let me take this nice heaping of Royal Marine to table four.

Anthony: *runs up and down same street repeatedly* JOHANNA? WHERE ARE YOU?

Johanna: In THE SAME PLACE YOU'VE RUN BY…*checks list* THIRTY EIGHT TIMES TODAY ALONE.

Sweeney: Hmm…a shooting star…bet none of this murdering with a straight razor will bite me in the ass at all!

Mrs. Lovett: Hey! Benny!

Sweeney: …bitch. Please call me by my "REAL" name.

Mrs. Lovett: Oh. Sorry, darling. Why don't you say we go down to the seaside and take a jolly holiday with…Toby?

Sweeney: How about we murder more people?

Mrs. Lovett: Seriously. You're obsessed.

Toby: MR. TODD IS EVIL! I JUST KNOW IT! MY TOBY SENSES ARE TINGLING!

Mrs. Lovett: Nonsense! He's the sexiest, smartest, bestest guy I know.

Toby: BUT HE'S EEEEEEVIIIIIIIILLLL!

Mrs. Lovett: Don't judge a book by its cover, dear. Now shut up and drink your gin.

Toby: I'd rather see how you make these pies, ma'am.

Mrs. Lovett: *perks up* ya do? Well then! Why didn't you say so?

Toby: Hey, it's dark in he—

Mrs. Lovett: *locks door*

Toby: …well, this sucks.

Beadle: Maybe now I'll go get that shave. It's "soon", after all…

Anthony: Come with me, Girl I Just Officially Met!

Johanna: You've ONLY been singing my name for months…

Anthony: Whatever. We'll run away to our happily ever after!

Johanna: Unless someone kills me first, okay. *jumps in trunk*

Beggar Woman: BEEEAAAADDDLLEEEE I LOOOOOVEEE YOUUUUU!

Sweeney: Jesus fuck, get the hell out of my crappy freezing barbershop!

Beggar Woman: I swear I know you from somewhere. It's like I'm your—

Sweeney: Don't care! Die, whore!

Judge Turpin: Miiiiiiiiiiisterrrrr Todddddd?

Sweeney: Yeah, what?

Judge Turpin: Ten points from Gryffindor!

Sweeney: I'd definitely be in Slytherin…

Judge Turpin: The evil house? Huh. That definitely won't—

Sweeney: DIE, MOFO!

Judge Turpin: There's…something…you must…know…

Sweeney: *pauses stabbing for a minute* yeah?

Judge Turpin: Your…wife…is…

Sweeney: DON'T CARE. *stabs a bazillion times more*

Johanna: Holy crap!

Sweeney: What? What the hell is this?

Johanna: Um…do you wanna…sing about it?

Sweeney: Depends. Who are you?

Johanna: Well, I'm definitely not your daughter if that's what you mean…

Sweeney: Never you mind that, kid. I've gotta go downstairs.

Mrs. Lovett: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. JUST. DIE. ALREADY. PERV.

Sweeney: Hey so let's have a judge pie now—wait, that's…no…

Mrs. Lovett: It's totally not your wife at all.

Sweeney: Yes it is!

Mrs. Lovett: No it isn't! I swear! It's just some…prostitute!

Sweeney: TELL ME THE TRUTH.

Mrs. Lovett: YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!

Sweeney: *brandishes razor* NOW!

Mrs. Lovett: Okay, okay! See, I said she POISONED herself. Which, she did. You just assumed she died. And you never asked me if she died specifically. So, in all technicalities here, it was a lie of omission. Well, now that she's dead, wanna make out?

Sweeney: How about we dance instead?

Mrs. Lovett: Oh, Benny. *giggles* I love the tango!

Sweeney: And you know what goes great with the tango?

Mrs. Lovett: What?

Sweeney: SOME FIRE!

Mrs. Lovett: …fuck my life. *burns to death horrifically*

Sweeney: Well, nothing left for me now. Here, Toby. Kill me now.

Toby: Isn't that murder, sir?

Sweeney: Think of it as…assisted suicide? A mercy killing?

Toby: If…if you insist, sir. *kills Sweeney*

Sweeney: *in afterlife* that sure didn't bite me in the ass at all! *sarcasm mode*

THE END