I just shrugged at all this, because it was about par for the course for the internet. But I knew what I had to do Vintage 1979 Living Legend T-Shirt, what I needed to do—so once I got confirmation, I went to buy a T-shirt. The guy’s house was in a neighborhood that most definitely did not have an HOA, but it wasn’t weird or anything. It was run-down, blue collar, but not especially rough. Kids with popsicle dyed lips ran around in the street, grandmothers smoked on their porches while their adult sons in white undershirts cursed from underneath old junkers. The house itself was at the end of a street, right before the residential area gave way to veterinarians, pawn shops, and insurance agencies. It was light blue with cracked paint and grass that hadn’t been cut in about a month. Dandelions blew in a sweet summer breeze as I approached the door.
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I only had to knock once before the door cracked. “You’re here for the shirt. Shit, yeah. Come in.” The door widened and I caught a glimpse of the owner. Vintage 1979 Living Legend T-Shirt Fat, bald, with deep set eyes. He was gruff, but not slovenly. An old juggernaut who hadn’t taken shit for so long they’d gotten used to it. I followed him into a lived-in home cluttered with movie posters and figurines. “Never really been into the television shit,” he muttered. “Give me a sec, kid. I gotta find this thing. Take a seat.”