Why is she looking at us? We didn't do anything. Unless, of course, these paintings are actually taken from an instruction manual for a race of telekenetic lechers. This has all the standard unreality of Frahm-world, and then some - not only has her underwear deployed, but she's dropped everthing - a package, mail, a narrow bottle of ketchup (whose trajectory indicates it passed through the side of the bag) and, of course, her purse.
It goes without saying, but there's celery present.
The leering man in this tableau is a kindly father figure who takes an innocent well-land's-sake delight in her mishap, yet simultaneousyl feels his old dry kindling start to spark. Behind him (see above) is a rarity - another woman who observes the scene and laughs in sororal treachery.
I don't know what the hell this is. Take-out from some joint that specialized in bloody dalmation meat, perhaps. As befits the curious physics of a Frahm painting, it's hit the ground and spilled before anything else was halfway out of the bag.