Again with the t-shirts

Yesterday the postal carrier left me one of those little pinkish notes telling me that I would have received a package if I had been home and answered my door. Instead, it offered me the opportunity to find time in my incredibly busy schedule, to stop by the post office and pay up.
It just happens that today I found myself in need of a bike ride, because last week while prepping for a bike ride, I actually fell over my bike and pulled a muscle in an uncomfortable place. Today it felt like time to test out my still sore muscles, so I strapped a lock on the back of the bike, got in some ugly baggy bike shorts and rode down to the post office.
There was a large, obviously stupid woman arguing with the clerk as I stood in line. I caught bits and pieces of her animated conversation. Something had been lost, something she wanted back, she would not be bothered to fill out any paperwork. As she later meandered past me to the front door she continued to speak to herself, muttering something about “all this is about is bullshit.”
I paid the 45 cents that was due on my package and as the clerk rang up the bill I could see it was a small little package, just large enough for a single t-shirt.
Since the beginning of time, my friend Bill and I have been exchanging t-shirts. Here is a link to something about that.
Basically we send each other interesting t-shirts from our various endeavors. He sends me shirts from terrible crime scenes in dangerous cities, I send him a shirt I was lucky enough to steal from an Amsterdam super model (long story).
I smiled broadly when I saw his return address on the package and the clerk asked me what was so funny. “Nothing,” I sort of stammered, “it’s just the package, it’s part of a long running history with a good friend.” He shook his head and gave me exact change from two quarters.
Without opening the package, I strapped it and the lock to my bike and took off for downtown to ride the streets and stretch my legs. I have to ride up a couple of steep hills to get home and as I reached the top of the first one, an elderly midget with gray hair and a bottle of something in his hand made eye contact with me as I started to peddle a bit quicker. I must have held my glance for a bit too long because as I was side by side with him he said, “what the fuck are you staring at?” I was already clearly past him and all I could think of was “what could possibly be in that bottle?”
The package contained a dark blue shirt with the large company logo right across the chest “RENEGADE Brewing Company.” A very good attempt from my friend to take the lead in interesting or obtuse shirts. He may have just barely grabbed the title for now, but I have been collecting shirts for a month or so. He will receive them this week and again I will take a commanding lead on a competition that is now easily 20 years old.