Yard Sale

The yard sale at the Newell clan's residence commenced at 7AM this fine morn. But several ladies of the geriatric persuasion did not wish the yard sale to begin quite this late. So they showed up at 6:30 in the hopes of picking up some crocheted pillow cases and ugly porcelain dishes.
"*hoo* *hoo* Jewelry? Where's the jewelry?" one of these ladies requested, her breath ragged and short from the excitement of a sale. The sun had not yet fully risen and items hadn't been placed in the driveway, yet this woman knew what she wanted. As the morning went on, other people moseyed on down and bought a good portion of the purses, shoes, and jewelry that we had out. The marine equipment sold fairly well. Oil was in high demand, especially since one quart was going for $.50, along with the rope. "How much for the rope?...oh, it has an anchor attached," was muttered by 4 different people until one gentleman actually wanted the rope with an attached anchor. About half of the toys displayed sold, albeit later in the day. The one thing that nobody wanted was bags. Gym bags, leather bags, camera bags, a few would peer into them, look around, and shake their heads. "I don't freaking need a bag," they might say to themselves, or "This looks like my gym bag that was stolen."
But at the end of the day, the leftovers were taken to Goodwill and donated. And, as I rode my bike, I reflected on the happenings of the day. Specifically, the t-shirts of the day. 3 t-shirts stood out in my mind. The first I saw was worn by a stout woman. It was yellow cotton with black lettering and a black picture of everyman Chuck Norris with the meme, "Chuck Norris doesn't leave messages...he leaves warnings."
The second was donned by an elderly gentleman who had worn the shirt solely for the yardsale. It said, "You might say packrat, but I say collector!"
The third was very unusual and unique. But when I say unique, I really mean it was ugly as hell. Very unique. A white cotton t-shirt that was plain on the front, but on the back it had a picture of Bart Simpson stuck in between a large white woman's buttocks with a purple, flowing script above it that punned "Crack kills."