Is anyone else out there permanently scarred by The Silence of the Lambs?

I’m talking deeply, irrevocably, intensely traumatized by a movie I saw 27 years ago. Twenty-seven years! I mean, come on. It was a movie, for Pete’s sake. Pretend story telling on a big screen with loud music and popcorn.

Although now that I think about it, that was one of the handful of times I lost my appetite mid-movie. And given the delight that is movie popcorn…well, anything that keeps me from eating buttery deliciousness is startling to say the least.

If you’re one of the lucky few who haven’t experienced this movie I envy you. Greatly. You might just want to click “like” now and move along before letting any of these details slip behind your eyelids and lodge in your brain. If you, too, are traumatized by this movie – seriously, go with God. You don’t want to go back down this rabbit hole with me.

As for the rest of you…

“It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.” Just…ewwww. [shudder]

“I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.” Wait, what? [shudder]

“Well, Clarice – have the lambs stopped screaming?” Man, I had nightmares about screaming lambs for weeks.

“Now it places the lotion in the basket…it places the lotion in the basket…put the fucking lotion in the basket!” The man. The girl. The man and the girl. Just – oh.

“Hello Clarice…” [shudder shudder shudder]

The Silence of the Lambs is one of those movies I will never, ever, ever watch again. I’d rather leave my own home for a three hour walk than relive that utterly terrifying experience. Come to think of it, I’d do that walk naked and barefoot in the rain. Because for real, the entire thing – start to finish – was scary as hell.


Linda’s stream of consciousness prompt runs our Saturday fun. This week’s prompt is “organ. Talk about an organ or base your post on the theme of them…or one.”