The car, I’m guessing, is the remains of a Trabant. Anyone remember the Trabant? Oh I remember them well. In fact, sexual relations in one was as good as when I did it for the third time in a 1972 Beetle–and it was 1980. My stepfather was furious the next day as he drove that Beetle to work on account his car was kaputt. When he came home he interrogated me about the foot prints on the ceiling. He had measured them, you know. He had deduced that they could only be the footprints of a young female and he knew that I came home that night from a evening with a lady-friend. He even added that my lady-friend was probably experiencing some abnormal on wear on the large ball of both her feet. Wearing too many high heels, that one, he said. And so. I suppose the Trabant in the pic, including the innards of a broken tree on the Rhine, leda me down that stairwell to have a peek. Should have left it.
Rant on.
-T
worstwriter 