“Piss on all my exes!”
The stick figure held his tiny twig and a stream shot forth across the rear window, presumably showering the women who dared reject the gleaming white Cadillac’s driver.
I wondered if he had a Ms Current — and if she was soon to be bathing in his imaginary golden waterfall.
If so, why? Whose self-image is so lacking she hangs on his arm?
And, if not, has he considered that his advertisement could be the reason only his hand keeps him warm at night?