(Pittsburgh, PA) “Hey guys, thanks for doing this. Big fan.” It was all smiles and fist bumps as we entered into the lower floors of the prison. Hannibal moved with an almost waltz-y footstep as he showed us down stairs. Even though he was supposed to be under maximum security, it seemed as though he had befriended the majority of the staff. They let him wander with reckless abandon and flaunt his fluid and flamboyant movement. He was quite the queen of the town. As he got to his room he turned to us and we began to film. “What’s up MTV? It’s me, Hannibal Lecter, and this is my crib.”

 

“As you can see, they didn’t give me much to work with,” he began with a disappointed tone. We entered the cell and he continued, “But I did what I can. You know, I’ve always had an eye for fashion and the gray of this cell just really bums me out. It doesn’t allow me to go to my mind castle, you know?”

 

We did not know, because, and I feel like this goes without saying, Hannibal is a literal psychopath. However, we, as members of the MTV cribs crew, were simply there to document. Although we must say that we were enamored with his commitment to the role, which we had not expected.

 

“So, let me show you around. Here, we have my bed which is right next to my toilet. Obviously the best place for it.” Despite the fact that he was being quite witty, there was no humor in Hannibal’s voice. His eyes were as dead as the night and his nose twitched with disdain.

 

“Next up we have these sweet posters I got at a noise show in Fayetteville. That feels like a lifetime ago.” For a second, he seemed lost is thought, but he quickly returned and motioned to the images displayed on his wall. How he was able to have these, none of our crew were sure, as it seemed unwise to give a know serial killer so much material for doing god knows what. Thankfully, Hannibal was definitely that bitch and wouldn’t stand for a room unspruced.

 

“And finally, we have my desk and handy mail-slot, where my prison guards pass me my mail and food. I guess I should call it the mail/food slot instead.” Lecter patted his pants and looked around, as if embarrassed by the briefness of his presentation. “So, yeah. That’s about it.”

 

Our director called “cut” and Hannibal shook everyone’s hand. We collected our equipment and began to make our way out, but as we walked away, Hannibal remained. “I must stay here, my friends. For the Dark Lord calls me.”

 

We thanked him again and turned to go, but he said one more thing: “Enjoy your dinner.”

 

And I haven’t slept since.

 

 

 

 

 

This article was written by Nathan Ellwood, who remembers Hannibal for what he truly was: the OG Sadboy. Follow him for more on Twitter (Nathan, not Hannibal, unless we’re talking about Hannibal Burress) @NPEllwood.