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Dear Clarice... |
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I have followed|with enthusiasm... |
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The course of your disgrace|and public shaming. |
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My own never bothered me... |
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Except for the inconvenience|of being incarcerated. |
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But you may lack perspective. |
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In our discussions|down in the dungeon... |
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It was apparent to me|that your father... |
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The dead night watchman... |
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Figures largely|in your value system. |
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I think your success|in putting an end... |
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To Jame Gumb's career|as a couturier... |
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Pleased you most... |
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Because you could imagine|your father being pleased. |
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But now, alas, you're in|bad odor with the FBI. |
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Do you imagine your daddy|being shamed by your disgrace? |
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Do you see him|in his plain pine box... |
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Crushed by your failure? |
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The sorry, petty end|of a promising career? |
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What is worst about|this humiliation, Clarice? |
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Is it how your failure... |
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Will reflect|on your mommy and daddy? |
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Is your worst fear that people|will now and forever... |
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Believe they were indeed... |
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Just good old trailer camp,|tornado-bait, white trash? |
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And that perhaps you are, too? |
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By the way,|I couldn't help noticing... |
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On the FBI's|rather dull public website... |
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That I have been hoisted... |
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From the Bureau's archives|of the common criminal... |
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And elevated|to the more prestigious... |
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Ten Most Wanted List. |
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Is this coincidence,|or are you back on the case? |
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If so, goody goody. |
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I need to come out of retirement|and return to public life. |
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Clearly this new assignment|is not your choice. |
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Rather, I suppose it is|part of the bargain... |
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But you accepted it, Clarice. |
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Your job is to craft my doom. |
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So I am not sure how well|I should wish you... |
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But I'm sure|we'll have a lot of fun. |
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Ta-ta. |
