“I bet we could write anything on these cars and they wouldn’t notice…”
Dusk was approaching, and the job was almost done. They’d received the entire lot of junk cars from a junkyard that had been bought to empty and use the land for condos.
Condos. Where, once, the beauty of a junk lot had been, and people are taking the good spots and making them livable. But what they don’t seem to notice, is they’re removing the places to store these rust buckets once their cushy lives afforded them a new vehicle.
“Eh. These people are pigs….” He mumbled.
So I scrawled the letters O, I, N, and K.