Postal Notes 2: The things people mail to each other is flat-out nuts. Shovels? Rugs? Tires? Livestock? Bullets? Golf clubs? Barbells?
It seems Benji Doopman doesn’t have any chains available to him in the town of Unxom. No problem! His Uncle Jibber, who lives in the big city (Dumwader), has an old pair in the barn. Just get that postal fella to parcel ’em up for you.
“Damn! Whatever’s taped up in this diaper box weighs a shit-ton!”
“Glad you’re carrying it! Ha, ha!”
If only there was a way Uncle Jibber could go to his nearby commerce kiosk, scan his personal bar code, and have a clerk at the kiosk find that item (chains) online, and order that item (chains), to be routed directly to Jibber’s less-fortunate kinfolk in Unxom?
Just spitballing here.
Doomed Again 