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“It Puts the Lotion on the Skin…or It Goes to Work Again”

November 3, 2010

In the 1991 classic film (and book) “The Silence of the Lambs,” the East Coast is terrorized by the serial killer, Buffalo Bill. Ultimately, the FBI turns to another serial killer, Hannibal Lector (Anthony Hopkins) to help track him down. Buffalo Bill captures his victims by luring their good nature, then holding a chloroform rag over their face. In the movie, he captures a girl by pretending to need help loading furniture into a car. Eventually he kills them and uses their skins/hair to be a creepy tranny.
Anyway, the story isn’t important. I feel like everyone has something in their lives that is trying to kill them. Everyone has some problem, be it work, alcohol, drugs, bad relationships, all of the above, whatever. Everyone has a Buffalo Bill.
My Buffalo Bill happens to be a lot like the actual Buffalo Bill. She works in my building. She has propositioned me on several occasions, and I am in fear for my life.  “So let me get this straight, there’s someone at work that wants to take you into the supply closet and you’re complaining?” Don’t worry, I’m not that lucky. She is in her 40s and looks a lot like Redskins Hall of Fame lineman, Russ Grimm. She is 6’3”, probably two bills and a fifty, and lives in a place that makes an apartment complex in downtown Baghdad feel like the penthouse in the Dakota.  I’d walk the streets of downtown Richmond at 3 am with $100 bills taped to my forehead wearing a shirt with the Confederate flag, whistling “Dixie” before I went to her house without an M-16, a few RPGs, and a cyanide pill incase the mission failed.  I would walk into a Wal-Mart burning a Dale Earnhardt effigy before I even got off at that exit. Shakespeare called it the “Undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.” I call it the place where this lady lives and wants to take me.
Unfortunately (and shockingly to some of you), I am typically willing to help someone in need and will almost always do so if I can. So I’m leaving the parking deck late the other night, and she’s out there with the hood raised on her windowless conversion van looking like she needs help. So I started walking over and was about to make my presence known, when I started hearing the voice in my head: “It puts the lotion on the skin, or it gets the hose again.” I saw myself trying to lure her dog, “Precious,” into the well so I could ransom my way out of captivity. I saw Agent  Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) walking around the creepy ass basement with night-vision goggles calling my name.  In that moment, I ran like Usain Bolt to my car and peeled out of that parking deck like I was in the pole position at Daytona.
Maybe she needed a jump. Maybe she needed a spark plug. Maybe she needed help. Maybe she would have shot me with a blow dart and I would have woken up in bondage and with gag ball in my mouth. You just can’t be too careful these days…

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