Sweeney Trot: The Demon Barber OF Cake Street

The Beginning

The boat sailed along the river towards the distant docks. A melodic voice sang with sadness and power. It was deep and sounded as if you had been walking on pebbles. In truth it was grainy, but power behind told stories as the voice sang in it's thickness.

I have sailed the world

Beheld its wonders

From the Dardanelles

To the mountains of Peru

But there's no place like Hoofington

No, there's no place like Hoofington

"Mr. Trot?" said a voice off to the side. Mr. Todd, as the stallion was called, turned to the side and looked at the younger stallion.

You are young

Life has been kind to you

You will learn

There's a hole in the world

like a great black pit

And the vermin of the world inhabit it

And its morals aren't worth

what a pig could spit

And it goes by the name of Hoofington

At the top of the hole

sit a privileged few

Making mock of the vermin

in the lower zoo

Turning beauty into filth and greed

I too have sailed the world

and seen its wonders

For the cruelty of men

is as wondrous as Peru

But there's no place like Hoofington

"Is everything all right, Mr. Trot?" The handsome white and brown stallion questioned, his brown hair was strewn in the wind.

"I beg your indulgence, Pip. My mind is far from easy." Mr. Trot said with nothing in his voice, though at the same time it was full of melancholy. The ship docked and the pair set out.

After passing the flood walls the two continued their conversation.

"In these once familiar streets,I feel shadows everywhere." Trot said blandly.

"Shadows?" Pip questioned, perhaps a little to eagerly.

"Ghosts." Trot said back as if in a daze. His voice once more began to fill the space around him.

There was a barber and his wife

And she was beautiful

A foolish barber and his wife

She was his reason and his life

And she was beautiful

And she was virtuous

And he was

naive

There was another man who saw

that she was beautiful

A pious vulture of the law

Who, with a gesture of his claw

Removed the barber from his plate

Then there was nothing but to wait

And she would fall

So soft, so young

so lost and, oh, so beautiful

"And the lady, sir, did she succumb?" Pip asked.

"Oh, that was many years ago. I doubt if anyone would know." He said quietly. Suddenly he turned to Pip.

"I'd like to thank you, Pip." Trot said. "If you hadn't spotted me,I'd be lost on the ocean still."

"Will I see you again?"

You might find me if you like. Around Cake Street, I wouldn't wonder."

"Until then, my friend." Pip said. He turned and trotted off. Trot stayed there. He looked back to the docks and to the busy city in front of him. His anger began to build. He quickly turn towards the inner city, and walking briskly he whispered to himself venomously.

There's a hole in the world

like a great black pit

And it's filled with people

who are filled with shit

And the vermin of the world inhabit it

He looked at was once his home. Walking in he sighed. A lively mare was running this way and that. She turned towards him and gasped.

"A customer!"

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!

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

"What was that?" she questioned stomping on the ground.

But you'd think we had the plague!

From the way that people keep avoiding

No, you don't.

Heaven knows I try, sir!

But there's no one

comes in even to inhale

Right you are, sir

would you like a drop of ale?

Mind you, I can hardly blame them

These are probably

the worst pies in Equestria

I know why nobody cares to take them

I should know, I make them

But good? No!

The worst pies in Equestria

Even that's polite

The worst pies in Equestria

If you doubt it, take a bite

He took a bite of the pie and had to hold himself so that he didn't throw up. He began to spit pieces as she turned and continued singing.

Is that just disgusting?

You have to concede it

It's nothing but crusting

Here, drink this, you'll need it

The worst pies in Equestria!

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

What are dying in the street

Mrs. Mooney has a pie shop

Does her business

but I noticed something weird

Lately all her neighbors' cats

have disappeared

Have to hand it to her

What I calls enterprise

Popping pussies into pies

Wouldn't do in my shop

Just the thought of it's enough

to make you sick

And I'm telling you

them pussycats is quick

No denying times is hard, sir!

Even harder than

the worst pies in Equestria

Only lard and nothing more

Is that just revolting

All greasy and gritty

It looks like it's molting

And tastes like

Well, pity

A woman alone!

With limited wind

And the worst pies in Equestria!

Sir

Times is hard

"Trust me, dearie, it's gonna take a lot more than ale to wash that taste out. Come with me. We'll get you a nice tumbler of gin, eh?" She walked into a side room and sat down. She patted the seat next to her to signal him to sit.

"Isn't this homey, now? The cheery wallpaper was a real bargain, too. It was only partly singed when the chapel burned down. There you go. You sit down, warm your bones."

"You've a room over the shop here?" He questioned. "Times is so hard, why don't you rent it out?"

"What, up there? No, I won't go near it." she said, eye's full of mystery. People think it's haunted."

" Haunted?"

"Yeah. And who's to say they're wrong? You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice." She began to sing in a grim voice.

There was a barber and his wife

And he was beautiful

A proper artist with a knife

But they transported him for life

And he was beautiful

"Baker, his name was. Benjamin Baker." She said grimly.

"What was his crime?" He asked soullessly.

"Foolishness."She began to sing again in a somewhat cheery tune.

He had this wife, you see

Pretty little thing, silly little nit

Had her chance

for the moon on a string

Poor thing

There was this judge, you see

Wanted her like mad

Every day he sent her a flower

But did she come down from her tower?

Sat up there and sobbed by the hour

Poor fool

But there was worse yet to come

poor thing

Well, Beadle calls on her all polite

Poor thing

The Judge, he tells her is all contrite

He blames himself

for her dreadful plight

She must come straight

to his house tonight

Poor thing, poor thing

Of course, when she goes there

Poor thing, poor thing

They're having this ball all in masks

There's no one she knows there

Poor dear, poor thing

She wanders tormented and drinks

Poor thing

The Judge has repented, she thinks

Poor thing

"Oh, where is Judge Turpin?"

She asks

He was there all right

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

you see

So all of them stood there and laughed

you see

Poor soul

Poor thing...

"No!! Would no one have mercy on her?" Trot shouted.

"So, it is you, Benjamin Baker?"

"Where is Lucy? Where is my wife?" He asked distressed.

"She poisoned herself. Arsenic, from the apothecary around the corner. Tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen to me.

And he's got your daughter." She looked at him.

"He?"

"Judge Turpin. Adopted her. Like his own. Fifteen years."

"I've sweated in a living hell on a false charge. Fifteen years dreaming I might come home to a wife and child." He nearly was sobbing now.

"Well, I can't say the years have been particularly kind to you, Mr. Baker."

"No. Not Baker.

That man is dead.

It's Trot now. Sweeney Trot.

And he will have his revenge."