Fanfic 100 - 017, Brown
Feb. 19th, 2006 09:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanTitle: Pussy Cats and Toast
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Mrs. Mooney
Prompt: 017, Brown
Word Count: 412
Rating: PG
Summary: Mrs. Mooney has an idea.
Author's Notes: It's short, and it's late. But real life is getting in the way at the moment. More stuff on the way...eventually.
Susan Mooney stared at the large brown tomcat across the table from her. The shop was, as always, completely quiet except for the steady ticking of the mantle clock she’d been putting off carting to the pawn shop. The unblinking yellow eyes met hers and cat and woman just continued to stare. After all, there was no point in baking pies when no one was coming to eat them. Prices had gone up, her husband had gone down (six feet down, actually), and now the shop was as empty as her own stomach. So she and the cat stared.
The tom (unimaginatively dubbed “Brownie” years ago) had always been a point of contention between Susan and her husband. He prized the cat, almost to the point of mania; Susan sometimes wondered idly whether Edward loved Brownie more than he loved his wife. There were certain days she’d even considered answering yes. And so, now that Edward was dearly departed and her customers were…well, departed, if not quite as dearly, Susan and Brownie had a lot of time to get to know one another.
It was the prices at the butcher’s that were the problem. You couldn’t make meat pies without meat, but with the market the way it was, butchers laughed to the bank while the rest of the industry starved. The rest of the industry, in this case, being one Susan Mooney, as Brownie had no such worries.
There were bills. Debts. The spectre of the workhouse loomed in the not so distant future, and Susan was almost hungry enough that gruel sounded appealing. Not quite. But close. But even as a girl, she had been known for her stubbornness, and the Lord smite her if she was going to lay down and die.
The problem was really very simple. There was no meat. If she had meat, she could scrape together enough money for flour and some cheap butter to mix with the grease…maybe an onion. If the shop reopened, business begat business, as Edward had blithely intoned as a sort of mantra while he was still alive.
The tip of Brownie’s tail flicked back and forth, his plain brown fur unaccountably sleek, the still, coiled muscles lithe underneath. The woman and the cat continued to stare at one another.
And then, for no discernible reason at all, Susan Mooney smiled. Brownie yowled and jumped off the table, streaking out of the room. No matter. He’d be back for dinner.
Fandom: Sweeney Todd
Characters: Mrs. Mooney
Prompt: 017, Brown
Word Count: 412
Rating: PG
Summary: Mrs. Mooney has an idea.
Author's Notes: It's short, and it's late. But real life is getting in the way at the moment. More stuff on the way...eventually.
Susan Mooney stared at the large brown tomcat across the table from her. The shop was, as always, completely quiet except for the steady ticking of the mantle clock she’d been putting off carting to the pawn shop. The unblinking yellow eyes met hers and cat and woman just continued to stare. After all, there was no point in baking pies when no one was coming to eat them. Prices had gone up, her husband had gone down (six feet down, actually), and now the shop was as empty as her own stomach. So she and the cat stared.
The tom (unimaginatively dubbed “Brownie” years ago) had always been a point of contention between Susan and her husband. He prized the cat, almost to the point of mania; Susan sometimes wondered idly whether Edward loved Brownie more than he loved his wife. There were certain days she’d even considered answering yes. And so, now that Edward was dearly departed and her customers were…well, departed, if not quite as dearly, Susan and Brownie had a lot of time to get to know one another.
It was the prices at the butcher’s that were the problem. You couldn’t make meat pies without meat, but with the market the way it was, butchers laughed to the bank while the rest of the industry starved. The rest of the industry, in this case, being one Susan Mooney, as Brownie had no such worries.
There were bills. Debts. The spectre of the workhouse loomed in the not so distant future, and Susan was almost hungry enough that gruel sounded appealing. Not quite. But close. But even as a girl, she had been known for her stubbornness, and the Lord smite her if she was going to lay down and die.
The problem was really very simple. There was no meat. If she had meat, she could scrape together enough money for flour and some cheap butter to mix with the grease…maybe an onion. If the shop reopened, business begat business, as Edward had blithely intoned as a sort of mantra while he was still alive.
The tip of Brownie’s tail flicked back and forth, his plain brown fur unaccountably sleek, the still, coiled muscles lithe underneath. The woman and the cat continued to stare at one another.
And then, for no discernible reason at all, Susan Mooney smiled. Brownie yowled and jumped off the table, streaking out of the room. No matter. He’d be back for dinner.
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Date: 2006-02-19 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-02-21 06:51 pm (UTC)Then again, if she had met up with Todd, would the same idea have occured to Mrs. Mooney? Hm. *g* Thanks for commenting.