T-shirts

This morning (Friday, January 26, 2007), I tried on the two new T-shirts I received from whitehorsepress.com, an outlet for motorcycle stuff.
One is Triumph; one is Norton. Both are black, and look pretty spiffy. The Norton T-shirt replaces one I bought long-ago and has worn out.
The T-shirts cost $21.95 each.
I can see it now: Vast shrieks and immediately redirects her ‘pyooter to Froogle.
“I coulda got them T-shirts for $10.95 each at “deepdiscountedtshirt.com,” “t-shirts-for-less.com, or tshirtcentral.com.”
A few months ago I noticed a Buffalo-Bills T-shirt on a rack at Weggers. It probably cost more than $21.95 — this is Weggers, after-all; they’re selling ambience.
There it was, hanging in front of me on the rack, right size, the whole kabosh.
All I had to do was toss it into my cart and pay for it. Saved driving home without it and spending an hour Froogling, $50 shipping-and-handling, and probably finding only cheap imitations made by Chinese child prison-labor.
So Jack walks into the Pasties store, and the staff licks their lips lustily in fevered anticipation.
Every time Jack strides into Monty Python’s Harley-Emporium, it’s “toss another steak on the grill, Martha. Here comes that Hughes-guy.”
I know Vast means well, but every time my sister-in-law flies to the shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower, she regales us with the puny price she paid for airfare on Granny’s Airline and Storm-Door Company, where they toss you over the side of their wheezing Curtiss Jenny at your destination with a parachute.
As far as I’m concerned, the convenience is worth the inflated price.

My brother-in-Delaware’s wife goes by the nickname “Vast Right-Wing Conspirator.”

The Harley-shop my brother-in-Boston patronizes is “Monty’s.”

“The shadow of the mighty De Land water-tower” is where my 91-year-old mother-in-law lives in north Floridy.

The “Pasties” are my brother-in-Boston’s beloved New-England Patriots football-team. Family-members renamed them “the Patsies,” and my brother misspelled it “Pasties.”