Mischief Mischief
One and Only
Her arms snaked over my shoulders. They constricted my regulated breathing. The white lace of her sleeves tickling the exposed skin of my neck.
“Now Mr. T, how about that wedding?” she asked, the overly common accent coming through thickly. My stare remained on the mirror where her wild red brown curls connected with the wind-blown look of my black locks, the white streak tinted a faint pink. Her one-inch heels bringing her to about the same height as myself, along with the floor length black with white lace dress, the corset constricting her waist complimenting her rather flat stomach. My eyes dragged their gaze back to myself. The puffed sleeves of my white shirt have the same faint pink tint, the brown gloves stained and laid removed on the desk. The black slacks upon my lower half contained connecting straps that went over my shoulders to form suspenders, and upon my feet is a pair of simple deep brown boots. The glisten of the shaving razors from their protective seal sparkling helplessly to my eyes. The fluffed out arms pulled closer before slipping around my waist.
“Mr. T?” Mrs. Lovett questioned from behind me, her soft voice filling my small barbershop.
“What?” my own rough low voice questioned. Mrs. Lovett lightly turns me around to face her.
“The wedding Mr. Todd,” she says strictly stressing the phrase. I nod lightly and resume my blank stares. She smiles sweetly and heads over to the nearest dress rack. “What do you think of this one?” she questioned holding up a large belled white dress, a corset mid-section with a black lace decor across the entire section and silky sleeves. I remained stationary with my stare set on the mirror, nothing even in focus, just lost in my own reverie. “Mr. T! This would be perfect for you!” she exclaimed holding up a solid black suit.
I’m standing here before the alter waiting, waiting impatiently. Suddenly out Mrs. Lovett marches. Inwardly I sigh, waiting for this to be over with. Blankly staring at the priest as he goes about normal wedding procedures. For what seems to be minutes later in my mind, we’re off to the shop to pick up our things for our trip. I stop and look around my barbershop.
“You ready to go Mr. Todd?” Mrs. Lovett, or should I say Todd, questions as she enters. My hand lingers on top of the open razor box. Subconsciously I remove the first one and open it delicately. Admiring the glistening blade the thought worms into my mine, why should I be with her? I lightly turn over the blade in my hands. Images of her throat slit and blood oozing over the floorboards enter my mind and sing euphorically. A smile creeps upon my features. I turn towards Mrs. Lovett and slowly come closer. “Mr. T?” she questions cautiously.
“Yes my love?” I ask as I continue to inch my way closer. My eyes remained fixed upon the invisible line that will soon be a deep gash upon her flawless features.
“You don’t need to do this,” her accent pleads, the fear evident and overriding her joyful disposition.
“Oh, but I do,” I mutter darkly as my arm lashes out tracing the dotted line my mind created. The strangled scream I’ve heard many times before rings out for the last time. A sick smile rests upon my blood stained features as Tobey walks in.
“Now Mr. T, how about that wedding?” she asked, the overly common accent coming through thickly. My stare remained on the mirror where her wild red brown curls connected with the wind-blown look of my black locks, the white streak tinted a faint pink. Her one-inch heels bringing her to about the same height as myself, along with the floor length black with white lace dress, the corset constricting her waist complimenting her rather flat stomach. My eyes dragged their gaze back to myself. The puffed sleeves of my white shirt have the same faint pink tint, the brown gloves stained and laid removed on the desk. The black slacks upon my lower half contained connecting straps that went over my shoulders to form suspenders, and upon my feet is a pair of simple deep brown boots. The glisten of the shaving razors from their protective seal sparkling helplessly to my eyes. The fluffed out arms pulled closer before slipping around my waist.
“Mr. T?” Mrs. Lovett questioned from behind me, her soft voice filling my small barbershop.
“What?” my own rough low voice questioned. Mrs. Lovett lightly turns me around to face her.
“The wedding Mr. Todd,” she says strictly stressing the phrase. I nod lightly and resume my blank stares. She smiles sweetly and heads over to the nearest dress rack. “What do you think of this one?” she questioned holding up a large belled white dress, a corset mid-section with a black lace decor across the entire section and silky sleeves. I remained stationary with my stare set on the mirror, nothing even in focus, just lost in my own reverie. “Mr. T! This would be perfect for you!” she exclaimed holding up a solid black suit.
I’m standing here before the alter waiting, waiting impatiently. Suddenly out Mrs. Lovett marches. Inwardly I sigh, waiting for this to be over with. Blankly staring at the priest as he goes about normal wedding procedures. For what seems to be minutes later in my mind, we’re off to the shop to pick up our things for our trip. I stop and look around my barbershop.
“You ready to go Mr. Todd?” Mrs. Lovett, or should I say Todd, questions as she enters. My hand lingers on top of the open razor box. Subconsciously I remove the first one and open it delicately. Admiring the glistening blade the thought worms into my mine, why should I be with her? I lightly turn over the blade in my hands. Images of her throat slit and blood oozing over the floorboards enter my mind and sing euphorically. A smile creeps upon my features. I turn towards Mrs. Lovett and slowly come closer. “Mr. T?” she questions cautiously.
“Yes my love?” I ask as I continue to inch my way closer. My eyes remained fixed upon the invisible line that will soon be a deep gash upon her flawless features.
“You don’t need to do this,” her accent pleads, the fear evident and overriding her joyful disposition.
“Oh, but I do,” I mutter darkly as my arm lashes out tracing the dotted line my mind created. The strangled scream I’ve heard many times before rings out for the last time. A sick smile rests upon my blood stained features as Tobey walks in.
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Alright, hope you liked it. I worked on it for a few days. I've been working on the chapters for my stories, I'm a bit behind on them all though. Writers block.