Guest
“I think I’m trapped!” cried the woman, surrounded by newspaper, glass bottles and magazines stacked to the roof. Bird cages. Not one, but TWO big old boats in the front yard. Tarpaulin (not weather-proofed). She does that thing with her hands that she does when she’s in an inconsolable state of panic. As you can see, she has a problem. She thinks she needs it all, and there’s just years worth of stuff piled and blocking each entrance (and exit) of the house, she’s well and truly fucked. She tries to find a phone but all she finds is radios! People, what we see is a girl in pain. A girl in pain. A little house on a cul-de-sac filled to the brim with trinkets, with bric-à-brac. Pop culture memorabilia. Clothing stacks. And not to mention the 14 or 15 cats. Sink filled with plates and teacups and vermin traps.. Frantic, a hat stand falls and trips her over. And though at first it’s all still intact, a towering pile of pamphlets (and other crap) topples and tumbles down and then bam
