Pinkamena led Sweeny Tom over to the living room and pulled some gin out of the cabinet. As he drank, Sweeny Tom noticed a familiar flight of stairs. "What's up there?"
"Nothing, but an empty room."
"You should rent it out. It'd make the hard times easier"
"Enope. When I bought this place, people warned me that it was haunted. You see, something happened up there. Something not very nice." She set him down in a chair and began her tale.
There was an engineer and his wife, and he was beautiful.
Also an artist with a knife,
but they transported him for life.
And he was beautiful.
"Thomas was his name."
"What was his crime?" asked Sweeny Tom.
"Crimes," corrected Pinkamena.
"Oh alright. What were his crimes?"
"Attempted murder, sabotage, and foolishness."
"Figures," growled the vengeful barber. Worse was to follow.
He had this wife, you see.
Pretty little thing.
Silly little nit.
Had her chance for the moon on a string.
We go back to Rosie, sitting in the very clean. She staring forlornly out the big window while cradling a baby girl with two toned sky blue hair.
There was this fuzz, you see...
"HOLD IT!' interrupted Sweeny Tom. He looked confusedly at her. "Fuzz?"
"It's what they'd call his kind in the 60s!" protested Pinkamena. "I've seen CHiPs."
Sweeny Tom looked at her with a deepening , but she rambled on before he could ask anything.
Wanted her like mad!
Everyday he sent her a flower
But she never came down from her tower.
Stayed up there and sulked by the hour poor thing
Rosie gets up and goes to a smaller window. Looking down, she sees Judge Hatt and Beadle Gordon, the latter holding up a bouqet of roses. She shakes her head and retreats to her seat, the baby beginning to wail.
But there worse yet to come
One night, Judge Hatt leads her to his estate where a costume ball is being held. He takes her to the front door and shows her in. He doesn't follow, explaining he needs to get his costume, then leaves her.
Well, Judge Hatt calls on her all polite
Beadle, he tells her, all contright.
He blames herself for her dreadful plight.
(Rosie: He should.)
She must come straight to their house tonight.
Of course when she gets there...
They're having this ball all in masks.
There's no one there that she knows.
She wonders, tormented and drinks.
The Beadle's repented, she thinks.
"Oh, where is the Beadle?" she asks...
Inside, Rosie is wondering around the ballroom, stumbling as she holds aloft a glass of wine. Everyone there is all gowned up, sporting strange masks, and are all strangers to her. Lost, her face becomes sloshier and redder (?), her stumbling becomes more frequent, and her vision becomes blurrier.
He was there alright!
Only not so contright!
Standing some ways from Rosie's back is indeed Beadle Gordon, wearing one of his face masks. He walks over to her and takes it off, revealing a face that is not at all contright.
She wasn't no match for such craft, you see.
And everyone thought it so drull.
Rosie is now on a chair, attempting to rest after her tenth glass (You got to admire the tomboy in her, cuz man, can she hold her liqour.) Gordon comes up and descends on her like Dracula. She screams as he does "the R deed" on her, but the screams fall on deaf ears as the onlookers all laugh (it doesn't help that the majority are wearing face masks of the Troublesome Trucks).
They figured she had to be daft, you see.
So they all stood there and laughed, you see.
The screaming and laughing gets louder and louder until-
"NO!" Sweeny Tom had lept to his feet in anger and threw his empty glass against the wall. "Did no one ever have mercy on her?"
Pinkamena was caught off guard more than she let on, but she was still surprised by the man's outburst. "So you are Thomas?"
"No! Not Thomas, that man is dead. It's Tom now-Sweeny Tom. And he will have his revenge." He had a savage look on his face that melted into a look of desperate curiosity. "What became of her?"
PInkamena sighed, an idea forming in her mind. "It's my belief that no one helped because the judge told them that she was the spouse of a convict. After that night, she went to an apothecary and bought a bottle of arsenic. Then she went and poisoned herself."
Poor Sweeny Tom. "What of my things?"
Pinkamena led him up the staircase and into the upper room. It was dirty and covered with cobwebs. The floorboards were rotten and creaked under their steps. The windows were stained with dust. She pointed to a worn chair, the only furniture in the room, with an old case lying next to it. He opened it up to reveal a set of razor blades.
"My!" exclaimed Pinkamena as he held one aloft. "They're chased silver, aren't they?"
"Yes." agreed Sweeny Tom, "Silver."
These are my friends.
See how they glisten.
See this one shine,
How he smiles in the light.
My faithful friends...
He unfolded the blade from the handle and studied his reflection. He stood up and examined it in the light; it was amazing how it and the rest managed to stay clean after all these years. Then he walked away from the window and held the razor close as if listening.
Speak to me, friend.
Whisper, I'll listen.
I know, I know
You've been locked out of sight
All these years!
Likem, my friend!
Well, I've come home to find you waiting!
And we're together...
And we'll do wonders...
Pinkamena got up, watching him in amazement. Then, as if by magic, Sweeny Tom produced another razor out from up his sleeve. "Did he have that with him the entire time?" she murmured. The box appeared to be missing one blade yet he was holding two.
You there, my friend...
It was then Pinkamena tried to...make advances with Sweeny Tom, such as stroking him, but the man too caught up with his razors.
I'm your friend too, Mr. Tom.
Come, let me hold you.
If only you knew, Mr. Tom.
And now, with a sigh,
Ooh, Mr. Tom,
Warm in my hand.
You've come home...
My clever friend...
Always had a fondness for you,
Sweeny Tom tucked away the second razor and knelt down by the chair while Pinkamena continued her...hints.
Rest now, my friends.
Never you fear, Mr. Tom.
Soon, I'll unfold you.
You can move in here, Mr. Tom.
Soon, you'll have-
Splendors you'll have never dreamed.
All your days,
Will be yours!
My lucky friends.
I'm your friend,
And your mine!
Till now your shine
Don't they shine beautiful?
Was merely silver.
Silver's good enough for me, Mr. T...
Friends, you shall drip rubies.
You'll soon drip precious rubies...
Sweeny Tom continued to study the blade, a wild look building in his eyes. "Leave me," he told her. Pinkamena obliged and smirked, knowing what kind of rubies he was referring to. He stood up and held aloft the razor, announcing:
"At last, my arm is complete again!"