This is a small scene stemming from my mind. When I first heard
about Hannibal Lecter, my friends at church were explaining the movie
"Hannibal" to me over Taco Bell. Let's just say, without giving away what
I am about to write, that I had entirely the wrong idea.
In a dirty, smelly, cheap apartment somewhere in the United States, there sat a man with a coffe can filled with burning coals, frying an unknown substance over the 'open' fire. He looks up momentarily, remembering the lady he has tied up across the crate, which serves as a table, and the other . person beside him. It is a man, and there's a hole about the size of a credit card in his forehead.
Oblivious to the fact that there's blood all over the floor, and the jigsaw he used to 'operate' he smiles a smile of pure evil (or as evil as a man can look with more than a few teeth rotten out, and the rest a nasty tan), and insanely, at the unconscious lady. Even in his primitiveness, the man- Hannibal Lecter - knows that she will be waking from her sleep. He had to hit her over the head with the butt of his pistol, regrettable, but necessary.
He looked down once more to the skillet, and noticing that the contents were nicely done, he put them on a plate, and set it on the 'table' just as Clarice - the lady - wakes.
"Mornin' sunshine" he said to her with his country drawl.
"Oh not again. What is it this time, Han, fried toes? How about roasted 'wing'? Really, I am tiring of your silly game. If I had wanted some sicko for a boyfriend, believe me, I would have stayed with my husband." She said rather tiredly at him.
"Well ain't we nice this mornin'? Here I am, working my ass off fer you, an' you don't even think of shownin me no kind of thanks! You ha'n't even got a job, fer goodness sakes, an you wanna lecture me about what I bring home? I'd like t'see you get off yer lazy rear and drive that truck! I bet'cha couldn't do it fer long."
Clarice simply rolled her eyes and looked at the man she now noticed joining them at the table.
"Who's he?"
"Ah, just some asshole that cut me off on th'interstate. Paul Krendler.sumthin like that. Muss'be important, er sumthin. Had a bag full 'a' money in th'trunk. Even-"
"Money? What happened to the money?" she asked hurriedly.
"Bought some beer n' stuff. Rest of it's hid. Cain't even 'member m'self where it is." He picked a piece of the brain and put it in Paul's mouth, moving his jaw for the dead man to simulate chewing. Then he picked up another piece and held it out to Clarice.
"Wan some?" he asked.
"Uhm.no thank you. I think I'll go.and..er.take a walk. Yeeeaaahh." She nodded hurriedly and left the small apartment.
Lecter shrugged and picked up the whole chunk of brain, and, as if it were an apple, started to eat it carelessly.
In a dirty, smelly, cheap apartment somewhere in the United States, there sat a man with a coffe can filled with burning coals, frying an unknown substance over the 'open' fire. He looks up momentarily, remembering the lady he has tied up across the crate, which serves as a table, and the other . person beside him. It is a man, and there's a hole about the size of a credit card in his forehead.
Oblivious to the fact that there's blood all over the floor, and the jigsaw he used to 'operate' he smiles a smile of pure evil (or as evil as a man can look with more than a few teeth rotten out, and the rest a nasty tan), and insanely, at the unconscious lady. Even in his primitiveness, the man- Hannibal Lecter - knows that she will be waking from her sleep. He had to hit her over the head with the butt of his pistol, regrettable, but necessary.
He looked down once more to the skillet, and noticing that the contents were nicely done, he put them on a plate, and set it on the 'table' just as Clarice - the lady - wakes.
"Mornin' sunshine" he said to her with his country drawl.
"Oh not again. What is it this time, Han, fried toes? How about roasted 'wing'? Really, I am tiring of your silly game. If I had wanted some sicko for a boyfriend, believe me, I would have stayed with my husband." She said rather tiredly at him.
"Well ain't we nice this mornin'? Here I am, working my ass off fer you, an' you don't even think of shownin me no kind of thanks! You ha'n't even got a job, fer goodness sakes, an you wanna lecture me about what I bring home? I'd like t'see you get off yer lazy rear and drive that truck! I bet'cha couldn't do it fer long."
Clarice simply rolled her eyes and looked at the man she now noticed joining them at the table.
"Who's he?"
"Ah, just some asshole that cut me off on th'interstate. Paul Krendler.sumthin like that. Muss'be important, er sumthin. Had a bag full 'a' money in th'trunk. Even-"
"Money? What happened to the money?" she asked hurriedly.
"Bought some beer n' stuff. Rest of it's hid. Cain't even 'member m'self where it is." He picked a piece of the brain and put it in Paul's mouth, moving his jaw for the dead man to simulate chewing. Then he picked up another piece and held it out to Clarice.
"Wan some?" he asked.
"Uhm.no thank you. I think I'll go.and..er.take a walk. Yeeeaaahh." She nodded hurriedly and left the small apartment.
Lecter shrugged and picked up the whole chunk of brain, and, as if it were an apple, started to eat it carelessly.
