So this man--young-ish, handsome-ish--walks in, a grin on his face, a bounce in his step, his kith and kin not far behind, and he says "I'm looking for Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand?"
And beholding his sparkly white polo shirt and sparkly clean haircut and sparkly smug smile I think Of course you are, dear, and scurry off to fetch it for him.
"Great!" He says, and "Oh, I don't have my wallet..." And, turning back to his aforementioned posse, "Hang on, I'm gonna get these guys to buy it for me!"
And thus our heroine nods and smiles and definitely doesn't choke on her coffee cracking the hell up.















