Tigers as capitalists

I was in the local university store, which is a kind of hybrid of a book/textbook shop and dorm appliance outlet and, well, other things, with my imaginary interlocuter.

"What," he said, "are these for?"

I verbalised a grunt. "What's what?"

"These," he said, and I saw him gesturing slightly, as though he felt he was about to be bitten by some rough texture, or that someone, maybe a salesperson, would see his shock-stopped interest.

"These," I said, gently picking one out, struggling in time pressure for the mots justes, "are for showing everyone how much you like tigers."

"By attaching a tiger's tail to yourself?"

"Yes," said I, "or maybe for twirling about at a football game."

"Only if our team wins. And -- good heaven!" he exclaimed on lifting his sight-line from the hypnotic illusion of writhing orange and black. "What is all that for?"

"Those," I said, "are table accents. They're for giving a bit of interest to your Ikea products."

"And the big ones?"

"For Afghan rugs? Are there tigers in Afghanistan? Well, near them, anyway. Maybe they're for people who don't want to feed cats, they can have these just lazing around, the mighty predator in your home, or if you have a kind of lobby or cloakroom at the front of your home you could put them here -- "

"And are those backpacks on the far wall? Good heavens, I wouldn't want to be that kid!"

I was becoming anxious. "Yes, you know, I think they are. Hey, didn't you want to see the books? Let's go downstairs and take a look."

My imaginary interlocuter can hardly resist looking at books. "I always say I won't buy any," he quipped in a quick about-face, "and then it's Kaufmann this and Heidegger that and, oh, look, one volume on the philosophy of mathematics, that would be a nice resource, and while I'm getting something anyway I've been meaning to read Aurelius' book and let's see what's new and cool in the world of Plato scholarship or what they're saying Nietzsche was arguing for this month and I walk out with three or four or five of them and -- will you look at that?!"

I hardly had a choice.

He had stopped in mid-stair, right foot forward a half-step, right hand suddenly tight on the rail. "How did that happen? What's with these people?"

What could I say? but that Princeton tigers paint it orange and black.