The Shit List

By Pierakis Pieri

Berlin taught me: name your enemies.

Seven names, seven addresses, seven red marks.

Silent machines patrolled our street,

while Papa’s hand shook over severance papers.

They came without warning—gleaming, silent conquerors.

Each arrival was a lost battle, each charging station a planted flag.

My childhood home, once ours, now encircled

by the quiet warfare of a future we didn’t choose.

My friends were fire, they were teeth, they were war,

swearing the city would answer for its sins.

I promised to hold them back, to cool the flame—

but the heat had already caught in my throat.

I armed myself with the only defence I had: a list.

#1: “Herr Conference Call” – White Model S on Schillerstraße

West German auto executive with years at BMW who now preaches ‘One Berlin’

but roars through the East like a midlife crisis on wheels.

• Claims to ‘bridge divided histories’—but only if the East’s quicker.

• Rallies for ‘German unity’—and lets the East’s jobs go to India.

• Baptized his machine “Heinrich,” as if it had a soul.

• Cools dogs with AC, warms them with open windows—efficiency.

#2: “Yoga-Mama” – Red Model 3 on Goethestraße

West Berlin wellness guru who ‘found herself’ in the East

but still needs three cars and a designer lapdog to function.

• Romanticizes Soviet blocks while signing petitions to raze them.

• Films ‘save the birds’ content while sensors scatter local wildlife.

• Preaches ‘car-free living’—geotagged from the driver’s seat.

• Condemns SeaWorld; makes dog perform tricks for followers.

#3: “Start-up Stefan” – Midnight Silver Model Y on Lindenallee

His start-up claims deep East Berlin roots and rebel spirit to woo rich backers

but Kreuzberg cool for whatever crowd he’s pitching today.

• Raised behind the Wall, but only his apps challenge the system.

• Coded three driving games but can’t parallel park in real life.

• Gave silent TED talk—insisted visuals ‘speak for themselves.’

• Desecrates “We Are The Champions” with his custom horn.

#4. “Gymnasium Director” – Blue Model X on Schulstraße

West-trained physical education director at our East Berlin school teaches unity

but grading curves lean West.

• Preaches ‘tough East German methods’ but never broke a sweat.

• Still says ‘the East’ like he needs a visa.

• Eyes wander from road to joggers like failed Olympic dreams.

• License plate reads ‘COACH88’—hasn’t coached since ’88.

#5: “The Wessis” – Black Model S on Tannenstraße

Ex-football star and his model wife who claimed our street after the Wall fell

but enforce stricter boundaries on children than doping regulations.

• He parks like his football career—taking up space without scoring.

• Her skincare routine uses more water than their weekly car detailing.

• Hosts charity galas for West German children while calling police on ours.

• Monitor their car with more cameras than covered his championship games.

#6: “Dr. Rarely-There” – White Model 3 on Ahornstraße

West Berlin doctor who bought East properties at post-Wall markdown

but visits monthly, treating both neighbourhood and bulldog as investments.

• Rants about ‘Eastern Bloc style’ but can’t resist East property prices.

• Claims two parking spots: ‘Doctor and Emotional Support Bulldog.’

• Warns patients about risks, lets bulldog navigate from his lap.

• Hangs ‘Doctor on Call’ sign while being unreachable for patients.

#7: “New-Money Neumanns” – Plaid Model X on Eichenweg

Tech industry family who turned a basic scheduling tool into a million-euro exit

but sell it as “Berlin Wall-breaking tech” to anyone who’ll listen.

• Family ‘aha moments’ overload the neighbourhood’s power grid.

• App features get more testing than children’s homework.

• Named app features after East landmarks only known from Google.

• Children’s career goal: ‘exit strategy by twenty-nine.’

Keys dragged across immaculate paint jobs.

Punctured tyres hissing secrets into darkness.

Hood ornaments collected like war medals.

Every vehicle marked: borders redrawn.

Seven nights, seven strikes, seven silent wars.

We avenged Papa’s trembling hands.

But the engines kept rolling—too fast, too quiet, too inevitable.

We were young. We were angry. We were Berlin.

My Shit List of Teslas remains, ink dissolving with time,

a scar that won’t fade, a war waged in silence.

Fear can drive you to destroy,

or teach you to build something better.

Berlin taught me: name your enemies.

By Pierakis Pieri