[A/N: Well, it's come at last...the end is here! Thank you to all my amazing readers and reviewers, I love you all dearly. And that sounded creepy. Now, without further ado, I present to you the finale.]

Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd, Harry Potter, Jiffy Lube, Zoolander, Yahtzee, RENT, the Hulk, OxyClean, Slap Chop, The House Bunny, Heathers, Tic Tacs, "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire", Pokemon, Zac Efron, or anything Disney. I do own a ShamWow, though.


SCENE SEVENTEEN: In Which All Bad Things Must End

(Now that Severus Snape – er, I mean Judge Turpentine – has met a sticky not-quite-end, Sweeney is about to go make a sandwich, celebrate with Mrs. Lovett, and fend off her advances some more, but he hears a strange giggling coming from the Trunk of Dead Body Holding. It sounds like a Teletubby on laughing gas. His natural instinct is to kill it.)

Sweeney: (flinging open the trunk) SHOW YOURSELF!

Johanna: (recoils in fear) Oh, crap. (remembers she's supposed to be a guy) Hi, my name is Joe Billy Bob...

Sweeney: Come for a shave, have you, lad?

Johanna: (clambers out of the trunk) Yes, and an eyebrow waxing as well. It's so hard being a metrosexual sailor!

Sweeney: I knew one of them once. Andrew, I think his name was...anyway, that's not important. Right, shaving and eyebrow waxing. Well, just sit down in my chair of murdering – er, I mean, barbering – and I'll be with you faster than you can say "Jiffy Lube".

(Johanna sits down in the chair apprehensively.)

Johanna: Jiffy Lube.

(Sweeney decides to hold a razor to her throat and do a series of striking poses. Once again, the fourth wall breaks apart to reveal a crew of photographers.)

Photographer: Now give us "Blue Steel"!

(Sweeney does a few menacing glares. The photographers, perhaps deciding that now is not a good time, quickly rebuild the fourth wall and go off to another, better parody.)

Sweeney: And now...I KEEL JOO!

Johanna: Urk...but...I'm your...

(Before things can be revealed and appearances on Maury can be scheduled, there is a bloodcurdling scream from downstairs that suggests that Mrs. Lovett has fatally injured herself whilst doing the Flirty Girl Fitness Strip Pole Workout. Your Dear Author, despite being American, enjoys the word 'whilst', because 'while' sounds less classy. But anyhoo, Sweeney runs out of the barbering chamber, leaving a frightened Johanna Billy Bob behind him.)


(Meanwhile, down in the basement of death, Mrs. Lovett can't hear Sweeney say those four sexually charged words, and thus misses out on another one of her horrifically obvious puns. Instead, she's too busy stomping on Judge Turnip's face and trying to get him to stop looking at her hoo-ha.)

Turpin: C'mon, baby. A little bit of almost necrophila, whaddaya say?

Mrs. Lovett: DIE! GOD IN HEAVEN, DIE! (stomps)

(Meanwhile, up in Heaven, God is far too busy playing Yahtzee to pay the slightest bit of attention.)

Sweeney: (bursts through the door) Are you okay? Did you fracture something?

Mrs. Lovett: Yeah. Turpin's face.

Sweeney: You mean he survived that?

Mrs. Lovett: Sex addicts are surprisingly resilient. Take it from me.

Sweeney: So, uh...what're we going to do with all the bodies?

Mrs. Lovett: Well, we already have enough of these pies to feed a freakin' army, so I decided we'll just burninate them in the large, scary oven.

Sweeney: Great! And then what?

Mrs. Lovett: After this, I'll OxyClean your Slap Chop all night long and make you ShamWow.

Sweeney: ...Thanks, but no.

Mrs. Lovett: I meant that I'm going to massage your arms, not massage your...uh. You know. Anyway, make yourself useful and help with the bodies.

(Suddenly, Sweeney notices someone suspiciously familiar.)

Sweeney: Oh sweet jeezy! It's my wife that I totally didn't notice was my wife an hour ago!

Mrs. Lovett: (pissed off beyond all bounds) Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

Sweeney: The pleasure would be all mine. Well, maybe some of yours, I don't know. Anyway, point is, you lied to me.

Mrs. Lovett: Because you were devastated. And devastatingly attractive. Plus, she was in-freaking-sane. You're telling me you would have wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone who has no concept of personal hygiene and thinks Tic Tacs are money?

Sweeney: You have a point. Let's dance, bitch!

(They begin to tango.)

Sweeney: (singing) This is weird.

Mrs. Lovett: It's weird.

Sweeney: Very weird.

Mrs. Lovett: Frickin' weird.

Sweeney: I'm so mad that I don't know what to do.
Killing off crazed sex fiends
I just want to watch Scream
And to top it all off I'm with you.

Mrs. Lovett: Can we go to the sea?
Will you still marry me?
And I'm thinking of sweet sexytime!

Sweeney: As a matter of fact, honey, yes I am...
It's called the Tango of Death.

Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney: The Tango of Death!
It's a dark, smelly basement of doom.
As I keep you dangling
You're wrong, the bodies we're mangling

Mrs. Lovett: It's different with me!

Sweeney: And I toss and I turn
Cause the handcuffs, they hurt
Yet I yearn and I moan and...oh god!

Both: I think I know what you mean

The Tango...of Death!

Sweeney: You lied, yes you lied

Nellie lied, frickin' lied

I'm enraged, but I won't give up now
Gotta look on the bright side
With all of my might
At least killing people was fun

Mrs. Lovett: When you're dancing my dance
You don't stand a chance
Now take off your pants right now!

Sweeney: I think you might as well
Dance a tango to hell
At least you'll have tangoed at all.

(Suddenly, in a display of Hulk-like strength, Sweeney picks up Mrs. Lovett and throws her into the oven.)

Mrs. Lovett: (as she toastifies) OW! THAT IS FRICKIN' HOT!

Sweeney: (begins singing again) Lovett roasting on an open fire...

Mrs. Lovett: My god, you're an asshole.

(Whilst his business partner is busy becoming a heap of ashes, Sweeney goes over to the body of his wife and sits down beside it, prepared to make a long dramatic speech.)

Sweeney: (tearfully) Alas, poor Lucy. I sort of knew ye...

(Suddenly, a WILD TOBY appears! He uses RAZOR! It's super effective!)

Sweeney: (bleeding to death) How could you do such a thing? I clothed you and fed you and...scared you!

Toby: I was involved in a cutthroat competition for Work House Musical 2, pardon the pun. And guess what? I won! I'm going to Hollywood! I don't need any of you anymore! All I need is gin! All I need is gin, gin! Gin is all I need!

(Toby skips off merrily, leaving his one-time guardian to bleed to death.)

Sweeney: (mostly dead now) Strawberry...jelly...

(Meanwhile, upstairs...)

Johanna: Um...guys? Guys? What just happened?

(...for now.)

So...Where Are They Now?

Sweeney and Lovett were denied entrance to Hell upon arrival, because the people in charge realized they'd enjoy it far too much. They are now permanent fixtures of the massive waiting room that is purgatory, with nothing but a fishtank to occupy their time, and nothing to eat but tuna fish sandwiches and decaf coffee. Oh, and much to Lovett's chagrin, you can't have sex in purgatory. Darn it.

Toby moved to Hollywood, became the next Zac Efron, and eventually got hooked on speed. After a dramatic tale of addiction and recovery, he decided to become a talk show host, and now has a tremendously successful career built mostly on finding out who the baby daddy is.

Anthony and Johanna got married, and as would be expected, bred like bunnies. They have nine children, all girls, and all named by Johanna – LaTouretta, LaFawnDuh, Uniqua, Speshelle, Hannah, Montana, Johanna II: Electric Boogaloo, Sweenette, Pirellisha, and Ginaqua. After ten years of married bliss, Anthony ran away to join the traveling cast of Disney on Ice.

The Beadle and Turpin were also not allowed into Hell, and went somewhere worse – the North Pole. They were resurrected and forced to work for Santa, and every time they so much as think about doing naughty things with the elves, a very angry security guard comes along to punch them in the face.

Lucy did go to heaven, and spends most of her time lounging around on fluffy clouds, eating jellybeans and being massaged by a gang of shirtless male models. She's still crazy.

[Wait. What is that I see? Floating on the horizon? Can it be...a new fic? Yes, from the creator of Spoofy Todd comes something equally inane – Legal Guardians of the Caribbean! Follow Jack, Elizabeth, Will, and He of Many Tentacles as they attempt to form a murderous ten-year-old girl into a functioning member of society, drink all the rum, and break many household appliances! Tune in to LgotC sometime in that vague time called the near future, only on FFN!]