Evil Librarian Read Online Free PDF

barber (insane after years spent wrongfully in prison, where he was sent on trumped-up charges so a corrupt judge could steal and destroy his family — mitigating circumstances, people!) who returns to wreak revenge upon those who wronged him. And on pretty much everyone else, too, eventually. There is an equally insane pie shop mistress (Mrs. Lovett) who had been secretly in love with Sweeney from before and who helps him (but also deceives him horribly and is pretty much responsible for eviscerating what little shreds of sanity he had left, to the detriment of all)
and
who comes up with the brilliant idea of cooking the dead bodies of his victims into her meat pies, and there is a young, innocent sailor who falls in love with Sweeney’s daughter, who is being raised in captivity by the very bad judge, and there is love and pain and humor and darkness and awesomeness all around.
    If you think the plot is complex, you should see the set design. It includes a rotating two-story structure that serves as Sweeney’s tonsorial parlor over the pie shop as well as the pie shop itself and Mrs. Lovett’s apartment and also occasional other scenes. And one of the key elements is ultimately the barber chair that Sweeney rigs up to be able to dump his victims conveniently down a trapdoor to the lower level, where they can wait to be ground up into pies. Some high-school productions forego the special chair and come up with some far less impressive method of getting the dead bodies offstage. We are not going to be one of those high schools. Just because there was a
little
mishap with the prototype and a couple of people got
very
slightly
injured . . . Well, I am going to fix everything and we are going to have a totally kick-ass chair and it will all be amazing. It’s still two weeks till the start of tech week (i.e., the week leading up to the dress rehearsal and then the actual performances), which is the deadline that Mr. Henry laid down, and I will figure it out.
    And in related news, there is an extra, added bonus to this year’s production.
    After Ryan Halsey’s extraordinary scene-stealing turn as the Pharaoh in
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat
last year, which, incidentally, positively sealed the deal for me in terms of my hopeless crush, there was no question that Mr. Henry would be casting him again this time around. And what better way to get to know someone than hanging out in the auditorium together between scenes, freed from the constraints of assigned classroom seating and Ryan’s usual intimidating group of friends, who, fortunately, do not seem to share his love of the theater? I only wish I had some talent for sewing, so that I could have volunteered to do costumes on the side and thereby have maneuvered myself to be alone in a corner some evening with Ryan Halsey and some measuring tape and a long list of necessary and intimate measurements that needed taking. But you can’t have everything, I suppose.
    Of course, thus far I have not worked up my nerve to do more than stare at him whenever he is onstage and then look down in embarrassment and panic whenever he actually glances my way. But as I may have mentioned, there are two weeks until tech Monday, which means nearly three weeks until opening night. Plenty of time. For everything. I will make my move eventually. I just have to work up the courage. Which might be sooner now that he has demonstrated knowledge of my name. My heart leaps painfully upward in pointless hope as I remember this wondrous fact, but I smush the feeling back down firmly. It doesn’t mean anything. He just has a good memory, like he has a good everything else, and has heard Mr. Henry calling out tech notes to me during rehearsals or heard someone say my name in Italian class. That’s all.
    Annie would smack me for thinking that way, I know. But she has an occasional tendency toward optimism beyond all reason.
    Ryan, of course, is playing Sweeney, and as he stands up