Meet the Ladder
I am Hannibal Lecter’s office ladder and I hate my life.
A ladder is meant to be a helpful tool, typically made of steel or a hearty but unadorned wood, and used for practical purposes such as putting out fires or rescuing kittens from trees. A gratifying way to contribute to the world.
I, on the other hand, live in a gilded cage. I am made of aged ash, have a cherry wood finish, and exist to be climbed a few times a week by a man in hand made Italian leather Oxfords. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that the leather comes from endangered animals, like poached baby rhinos or some other equally vulnerable species.
As you can see, Dr. Lecter is a bizarre combination of ridiculous and evil.
He wears stuffy suits. He keeps a harpsichord in the office. He has a mezzanine in his office and uses a ladder rather than stairs to access it.
I have spent a lot of time trying to understand how I came by my lot in life. I cannot recall my past life but I must have done something terribly wrong to be given a dull life with no purpose.
Sometimes I hear fire sirens and I am so envious of the ladders mounted to the trucks helping to save lives.
Dr. Lecter has his office painted yearly. The crew uses practical ladders while I am carefully wrapped in soft cotton sheets to protect me from paint splatter and scratches.
Like I said, I have no idea how I came to this life but I have figured out how to keep it from repeating.
I have to make sure that Dr. Hannibal Lecter, an unrepentant sadistic serial killer, is brought to justice.
And then I will be reborn into a better life.
…………………………………………..
Dr. Lecter had a receptionist named Vicki and she was a nice lady.
Sadly, she was seduced by the glossy surface of the psychiatrist’s lifestyle.
Vicki saw a handsome man and a high end car and a luxurious office space, and she wanted it for herself.
So she sought to reinvent herself. Vicki became Victoria. She had her hair professionally colored and styled. She tried to dress like the fancy ladies who came to the office.
It had no effect on Dr. Evil, aside from him mocking her when she left for the day. He would laugh at her unfamiliarity with culture and politics and her gauche attempts to seduce him.
I once saw him draw a sounder of pigs and he used her face for one of the passel.
Vicki tried to engage me in her seduction efforts. She would lean against me flirtatiously or climb my rungs, hoping to call attention to her figure.
One time she was climbing down from the mezzanine when the serial killer was nearby and she faked a fall. He caught her but I could tell that he knew that it was no accident. Vicki tried to prolong the contact but he set her on her feet and reprimanded her for a run in her stockings.
Vicki tried it again a few weeks later but this time the monster “failed” to save her. She ended up with a swollen ankle and several bruises for her trouble.
I hoped that she would begin to see him for the beast that he is but, alas, she did not. I was forced to watch as he murdered her, shoved her lifeless body in a closet, and met with his final patient of the day.
I shouted at the patient to run.
To get help.
To save himself.
The man did not hear me, of course, but he left unmolested. Physically at least. I could tell that Dr. Lecter was planting seeds of discontent regarding his patient’s long marriage.
Later as he carried Vicki’s lifeless body from the office, the killer made the following comment:
“Congratulations, Miss Lyman, you will finally have a place at my table.”
And that is how I learned that he is a cannibal.