This is the product of severe boredom at school. My teacher, being awesome as she is, let me pull out my phone and write it. It's probably gonna be EXTREMELY stupid, but I had to do it.
Disclaimer:: I own nothing! Not Alice in Wonderland, not Sweeney Todd, not Timothy Spall, not Alan Rickman, not Tim Burton, and DEFINITELY not Johnny Depp or Helena Bonham Carter. No matter how much I want to!
"OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
"Okay! Great take, Helena!" Tim Burton said through a comically large megaphone.
Helena Bonham Carter smiled as she walked off the set, plopping down next to her co-star and friend, Johnny Depp. He was lost in the book he was reading, unconsciously rubbing his upper lip in thought.
Helena grabbed her water bottle and downed half of it in one gulp. She exhaled sharply and leaned back, relaxing into the chair. She began absentmindedly humming, "Worst Pies in London". Johnny turned and looked at her like she was crazy, despite the playful glint obvious in his brown eyes.
She switched songs, and her light humming slowly morphed into words. "Seems a downright shame…" she murmured.
Johnny looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Shame?" he asked, his voice low and harsh like Sweeney's.
Helena grinned and sang, "Seems an awful waste. Such a nice, plump frame what's-his-name has…had…has! Nor it can't be traced." she stood up and continued. "Business needs a lift. Debts to be erased. Think of it as thrift! As a gift!" she turned back to Johnny and said, "If you get my drift. Seems an awful waste…I mean…with the price of meat, what it is, when you get it…if you get it."
"Ah!" Johnny exclaimed, standing up as well.
By this time, Alan Rickman, who had been sitting next to Johnny, was watching them, an amused expression on his face.
"Good, you got it! Take, for instance, Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop! Business never better using on pussycats and toast. Now, a pussy's good for maybe six or seven at the most. And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste!" she continued.
"Mrs. Lovett, what a charming notion, eminently practical, and yet appropriate as always. Mrs. Lovett, how I've lived without you all these years, I'll never know!" Johnny interrupted her.
"Well, it does seem a waste! It's an idea…"
"How delectable! Also undetectable!" they sang at the same time, their words overlapping, but forming a wonderful harmony.
"Think about it! Lots of other gentlemen'll soon be coming for a shave. Won't they? Think of all them pies!"
At this point, Helena and Johnny began waltzing maniacally, drawing all eyes to them. Alan had fallen out of his chair, and was rolling on the floor laughing. Timothy Spall had just walked in, and was very startled to see the sight before him. He started laughing as well. Tim had also noticed their strange behavior, and was standing off to the side, watching them and laughing.
"How choice! How rare! For what's the sound of the world out there?"
"What, Mr. Todd? What, Mr. Todd? What is that sound?"
"Those crunching noises pervading the air!"
"Yes, Mr. Todd! Yes, Mr. Todd! Yes, all around!"
"It's man devouring man, my dear." Johnny continued.
"Then who are we to deny it in here?" they sang in unison, still waltzing all around the set.
"These are desperate times, Mrs. Lovett, and desperate measures are called for." Johnny said as Helena walked away from him.
"Here we are." Helena said, holding up an imaginary pie. "Hot! Out of the oven!" she pretended to hand it to Johnny.
Johnny paused, looking at the invisible pie, and then said, "What is that?"
"It's priest! Have a little priest!" Helena said, grabbing Johnny and beginning to dance again.
"Is it really good?"
"Sir, it's too good, at least! Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh…so it's pretty fresh!"
"Awful lot of fat." Johnny said simply.
"Only where it sat!"
"Haven't you got poet, or something like that?" he responded, gesturing to a skinny crew member.
"No, you see, the trouble with poet is how do you know it's deceased? Try the priest!"
They paused, waltzing to music only they could hear. Finally, Helena said, "Lawyer's rather nice."
"If it's for a price!"
"Order something else, though, to follow, since no one should swallow it twice!"
"Anything that's lean?"
"Well, then, if you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine! Anyway, it's clean. Though, of course, it tastes of wherever it's been!"
"Is that squire on the fire?" Johnny asked.
"Mercy, no, sir, look closer, you'll notice it's grocer!"
"Looks thicker! More like vicar!"
"No, it has to be grocer! It's green!" Helena sang, having to stifle a giggle.
"The history of the world, my love…"
"Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favors…"
"Is those below serving those above!"
"Everybody shaves, so there should be plenty of flavors!"
"How gratifying for once to know-"
"That those above will serve those down below!" they sang together.
Helena walked away and produced another imaginary pie. She handed it to Johnny, who eyed it suspiciously.
"What is that?" he asked.
"It's fop. Finest in the shop. And we have some shepherd's pie peppered with actual shepherd on top! And I've just begun…Here's the politician, so oily, it comes with a doily. Have one!" Again, she and Johnny began waltzing maniacally.
"Put it on a bun! Well, you never know if it's going to run!"
"Try the friar! Fried, it's drier!"
"No, the clergy is really too coarse and too mealy."
"Then actor! It's compacter!"
"Ah, but always arrives overdone!" At this, a giggle escaped Helena's lips. "I'll come again when you have judge on the menu! Have charity toward the world, my pet!"
"Yes, yes, I know, my love!"
"We'll take the customers that we can get!"
"High-born and low, my love!"
"We'll not discriminate great from small. No, we'll serve anyone, meaning anyone-"
"And to anyone at all!" they finished together.
Immediately, Johnny launched into another song, offering Alan a hand. He took it gratefully and stood up.
"What may I do for you today, sir? Stylish trimming of the hair? Soothing skin massage? Sit, sir! Sit!" he asked.
"You see, sir, a man infatuate with love, her ardent and eager slave."
At this, Timothy walked over to Helena and offered her hand. She took it, grinning madly, and they began dancing. By this time, Tim, along with most of the staff, was doubled over, laughing so hard they were crying.
"So fetch the pomade and pumice stone, and lend me a more seductive tone, a sprinkling perhaps of French cologne, but first, sir, I think…a shave!" Alan sang as he walked over to a chair. Johnny quickly grabbed a spoon and followed. Alan sat down and Johnny stood behind him. He started pretending to shave him with the spoon, whistling.
"In a merry mood, today, Mr. Todd?"
"Tis your delight, sir, catching fire from one man to the next!" Johnny sang.
"Tis true, sir, love can still inspire the blood to pound, the heart leap higher!"
"What more-" Johnny started.
"What more can man require-" they sang together.
"Than love, sir?"
"More than love, sir."
"Women." Johnny sang, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Ah, yes, women."
Then, Johnny started whistling again, and Alan started with his "ba"s.
"Now, then, my friend. Now, to your purpose. Patience, enjoy it. Revenge can't be taken in haste!"
"Make haste, and, if we wed, you'll be commended, sir!" Alan interrupted.
"My lord…And who, may it be said, is your intended, sir?"
"My ward…" Alan sang. "A pretty little rosebud."
"Pretty as her mother?" Johnny asked suddenly.
"What? What was that?"
"Nothing, sir. Nothing! May we proceed?" Johnny sang as he still pretended to shave Alan with a spoon. Helena and Timothy were still dancing, and Tim had to excuse himself, he was laughing so hard. "Pretty women. Fascinating…Sipping coffee…Dancing…Pretty women. Are a wonder. Pretty women! Sitting in the window, or standing on the stair! Something in them cheers the air…Pretty women."
"Stay within you."
"Pretty women!" they sang together. "Blowing out their candles, or combing out their hair. Even when they leave, they still are there. They're there."
"Ah, pretty women…" Johnny started. "At their mirrors."
"In their gardens."
"How they make a man sing!" they sang in unison. "Proof of heaven, as you're living. Pretty women! Sir! Pretty women! Yes! Pretty women! Pretty women! Pretty women! Pretty women! Pretty women!" they finished and Alan stood up. He walked around to the back of the chair, grabbed Johnny, and started waltzing with him.
They waltzed around the entire set, laughing. Timothy and Helena followed closely behind. Once Tim had finally calmed down considerably, he came back on set.
He saw the Mad Hatter dancing with Alan Rickman, and the Red Queen dancing with Timothy Spall. He burst out laughing again and tumbled to the floor. He held his stomach as he cackled, rolling about on the floor.
LOL when I was writing Pretty Women, I noticed how much they call each other "sir" and I was like, "Wow." LOL and I realize that "ba"s looks like balls with two miniature l's. Wonderful word, that. Miniature.