It's not bad if you don't think where it comes from. Ain't bloody worse than cutting up pussies. I can't very well tell you what I thinks coming once Mr. Todd gets old Judge Turpin. What's to happen once the man's gotten the blasted vengeance that he's craving? Dear silly man don't know his was around this dirty business. Hasn't got the sense to go about all this killing without me help. It's enough that he's here. Enough that he's just up some steps. Here in London, safe and sound, not half across the world.
The distance was the hardest part. Once me poor Albert passed, I wasn't knowing what was to happen. Meat more expensive by the day. Lucy upstairs pacing, I heard the creaking floorboards as she walked back and forth, rocking little bawling Johanna. Couldn't tell you what I was thinking, 'cept I couldn't keep me mind off Mr. Todd and him not being there. And of course the Judge standing outside me shop each day didn't do nothing to help business. Anyone knows him prefers to just keep their distance. He's not one you want for an enemy. No sir.
Just scoop it into the crust. Just slide 'em into the oven. Just pretend its beef or turkey. Not priest.
Really, as I said, though. It ain't so bad as all that. Just meat. Just pies. Just business. And if it keeps Mr. T. upstairs, brooding and polishing 'em razors of his, then it is okay by me. Always was fond of him. Got on well we always did. Even when Albert was alive and eating pies and Lucy walking through life all glowing and golden. And beautiful, and virtuous. Mr. Todd used to take a fancy to sittin' round me shop when no one was in for a shave or a haircut and no one buying me pies. He'd listen as I chattered on and he'd go on about eating my pies like every bite was heaven on earth and he ain't never had nothing so scrumptious. He sure drew in customers with that act.
He was sure happier back in those days. Times I do miss him smiling. Yet, he's mine now and nobody else's. Just mine. And with this steady flow of meat, I could go on making pies forever and have scraps left over. And 'course if it weren't for Mr. Todd, I wouldn't have Toby. Boy's quite a wonder 'round the shop. And he is a comfort to me. No way this is any worse then that sham that ole Pirelli had goin', and I am sure I treat the boy better. Keeping him fed if nothing else.
And there's another batch of 'em ready to cook. Just pop 'em into the oven and that's that. Fifteen minutes for a load of 'em. And there you are. Got to get me up to the customers. They're rabid up there, eatin 'em like hungry dogs. I reckon they're bloody delicious if they're in such high demand, but I couldn't eat 'em. Not knowin what they come from. Just what I told you, it ain't no pain if I tell meself that it's some other sort of meat but I couldn't bring meself to eat it. No. I can buy other things to eat with the money they make.
But Mr. T.'s just upstairs and if I go now than I can see him taking in one of my customers to be one of his customers. I can go and I can see him. I can see him, because he is here now. He is home and I won't let him leave me again.