Carpet Goes to Fiji

Once there was a bit of carpet. Perhaps it had dreams, as it was being woven, of gracing a fancy living room or warming small children by the fire. Instead, it found itself attached with Velcro to the floor of an electric scooter driven by a middle-aged woman with Multiple Sclerosis. There, it endured an almost constant bombardment of food particles, dog hair, paint and paper scraps. It had to go outside in the pounding rain and sub-zero temperatures. It was rarely vacuumed and was never washed. Sometimes it spent hours in unheated cargo compartments as the woman traveled by airplane. It was not an easy life, though the carpet consoled itself with the thought that it was doing an important service.

One day, after a particularly long ride in the belly of a plane, the carpet was trying to decide whether to be irritated by the sand that was being pushed into it or enjoy the warmth with which it was surrounded. Suddenly, it felt itself tipping sideways. A wash of warm salt water flowed over it.

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