I couldn't think of anything for the Worst Pies in London song, so it's the same. Hopefully it'll get better :) Review, please, my pretties )

Chapter 2 – Worst Pies in Sainsburys

Sweeney Tot walked for a good few hours before he found the place he was looking for.

The fruit and Vegetable aisle.

His heart raced as he saw the basket he was looking for. His basket. He climbed up to find it, a small glimmer of hope that she might be there. His hopes, however, disappeared when he saw a rather grim-looking egg wiping away at a small table made of someone's lost purse. When she saw him, her eyes glistened.

"A customer!" she cried, and he turned to go. "Wait!"

"What's your rush? What's your hurry?
You gave me such a -
Fright, I thought you was a ghost!
Half a minute, can't you sit!
Sit you down, sit!"

She smiled as she pushed Sweeney onto the edge of the basket. He tried hard to remain calm, and not freak out by this weird and wacky egg, who he most certainly did not remember from before. The egg patted the top of his head.

"All I meant is that I haven't seen a customer for weeks!
Did you come here for a pie, sir?
Do forgive me if me head's a little vague -
Ugh! What is that?
But you think we had the plague!
From the way that people
Keep avoiding -
No you don't!"

Suddenly, she thwacked a tiny dust bunny out the way, angrily all of a sudden. She glared at it, and then smiled sweetly again.

"Heaven knows I try, sir!
Ick!
But there's no one comes in even to inhale!"

She smiled and brought a small crumb of a pie over to him. It was dusty and dirty and Sweeney Tot was not impressed. The egg plopped it down in front of him.

"Right you are, sir, would you like a drop of ale?"

He nodded, and she went over to a little corner, before handing him a thumbtack full of ale. She placed it beside his pie, ready in case he needed it. Which, by the look of the disgusting pie in front of him, he would.

"Mind you, I can hardly blame them!
These are probably the worst pies in Sainsburys
I know why nobody cares to take them,
I should know,
I make them,
But good? No!
The worst pies in Sainsburys!"

She sat down beside him, resting her head in her hands. He sat next to her awkwardly, not sure what to do. Suddenly, she jumped up again.

"Even that's polite!
The worst pies in Sainsburys!
If you doubt it, take a bite!"

She gazed at him, waiting for him to try it. He took the smallest nibble of the pie and made a face.

"Is that just disgusting?
You have to concede it!
It's nothing but crusting!
Here, drink this, you'll need it!"

The egg passed him his ale which he gulped down, gratefully. She laughed.

"The worst pies in Sainsburys!
And no wonder with the price of meat
What it is
When you get it
Never
Thought I'd live to see the day
Men'd think it was a treat
Finding' poor
Animals
Wot are dying' in the street!"

The egg was suddenly very pissed off. She stormed up and down her basket, throwing her hands in the air.

"Mrs Mooney has a pie shop!
Does a business but I notice something weird.
Lately all her baby corns have disappeared!
Have to hand it to her -
Wot I calls
Enterprise
Popping' corn into pies!
Wouldn't do in my shop!
Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick!
And I'm tellin' you, them pussycats is quick!
No denying times is hard, sir
Even harder than the worst pies in Sainsburys!"

She stopped walking and turned to him.

"Only lard and nothing more -
Is that just revolting,
All greasy and gritty?
It looks like it's moulting,
And tastes like,
Well, pity
A woman alone,
With limited wind,
And the worst pies in London!
Ah, sir, times is hard,
Times is hard!"

The egg smiled sweetly at Sweeney, who looked as though he was gonna vomit.

"Trust me, lovey, it's gonna take more than ale to wash that taste out your mouth, I promise ya," she said, taking the thumbtack away from him. "You know, I may be able to find you some cola, if you're wanting?" He nodded.

"Right, one second, my lovely, and I'll see what I can do, alright? You just make yourself at home, okay?" And with that, she flounced off.

She was gone barely two seconds before she returned with the thumbtack. "No cola. Red-Bull okay?" she smiled, enthusiastically.

Sweeney nodded, and she handed him the thumbtack filled with the energy drink, which he gulped down. "It's nice to see a man with a good appetite," she laughed. "The names Nellie, Nellie Love-egg. And you?"

"Tot," Sweeney replied. "Sweeney Tot."

"Hm. You know, I swear to God I've seen you before. Nah, probably just me imagination," she wondered aloud, and then she smiled at him. "Have you come to see the basket I have for rent?"

"You have?"

"Yep, from the previous owner. No one ever comes to look at it, though. It's meant to be haunted."

Sweeney said nothing, and Mrs Love-egg took his hand and pulled him up to the basket hanging above hers. He could barely speak when he saw the basket, the one he recognised from so many years ago. It was his barber studio, the place where he trimmed the roots of fruits and vegetables from around the store.

"Like what you see?" asked Mrs Love-egg, smiling gently at him. "You know, there was a potato much like yourself who used to live here."

"Really?" asked Sweeney, very nonchalantly. "And what happened to him?"

"Well, I'll tell ya," the egg grinned.

"There was a tatty and his wife,

And he was nutritious.

He was ripe and tasted nice,

But they disbanded him for life,

And he was nutritious!"

"Spudsy, his name was. Stephan Spudsy," she whispered softly.

"And what was his crime?" asked Sweeney Tot, curiously.

"Deliciousness," Mrs Love-egg answered darkly, and Sweeney flinched.

"He had this wife, ya see,

Pretty little fruit, silly little pit,

Had her chance for the moon on a string!

Poor thing, poor thing.

There was this judge, ya see,

Wanted her like mad, every day he'd send her fertiliser!

But that didn't surprise her!

She was upset and just sat and cried, yah!

Poor fruit.

The broccoli calls on her all polite,

Poor thing, poor thing,

Eggplant, he tells her, is all contrite,

He blames himself for your dreadful plight,

You must straight to his basket tonight, poor thing!

Poor thing!

Of course, when she gets there, poor dear, poor fruit,

They're having this ball dressed in leaves,

There's no one she knows there, poor fruit, poor pet,

She wanders round helpless and drinks, poor thing,

The judge has disbanded, she thinks, poor thing,

Oh where is Judge Eggplant? she asks.

He was there alright, only not so contrite!

She wasn't no match for such craft you see,

And everyone thought it so droll,

They figured she had to be daft, ya see,

So all of 'em stood there and laughed, ya see!

"NO!" Sweeney shouted without thinking. He paused. "Would no one have mercy on her?" he whispered, looking to the floor with regret.

Mrs Love-egg smiled. "So it is you," she muttered, "Stephen Spudsy."