Hannibal Lecter’s Photo Journal Reciting “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost During the SnowZilla Blizzard

Quid Snow, Snow, Clarice, Quid Snow Snow…


Clearly the child with the awfully noisy snow blower hasn’t completed his task yet. I shall have to give him some additional incentive. Perhaps a nice root beer accompanied with his mothers liver sauteed with caramelized onions. Yes. I must make a note. We cannot let our youth not keep their promises. I always keep mine.


“Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.”


But now that I have trudged all this way through the interminable blizzard, I should check my mail. I’ve been waiting for a few new surgical instruments and Indian spices for my cooking experiments. And Yet, what is THIS? No mail. The Postal Service has failed me yet again. I shall have to arrange for a special delivery for my mail delivery person. Perhaps I will mail her husband’s nose to her, wrapped in a nice Hermes scarf, of course.

“My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.”

The road, while hard to see, is a much simpler walk. I think I should check upon my dry cleaning. Ms. Chan has guaranteed she can get the blood AND olive oil stains out of my hand tailors bespoke silk shirts. All three of them. Let me see…Ah yes, the ticket says Saturday delivery. It’s only a mile to go, this chill air should be refreshing an invigorating….  “What is this! I had thought to be this a fine establishment! Once again, I have been hornswoggled. Mrs. Chan will do quite well with her kidneys marinated in a nice bulgogi sauce and then cooked on a nice charcoal grill. Accompanied by warm sake.


“He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.”

Bollocks. The only store open is 7-Eleven. I shall have to adjust my culinary leanings for my guests to Spam, Bush’s baked beans, and Cupcake Chardonnay.


“The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”


Oh yes, Clarice, many promises to keep.






Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *