Charlie's magic carpet.

It’s not an easy life being a carpet. I spend all day every day lying on my back and soaking in household smells like cooked food and feet. My colour fades another little bit each day, although I do take on a heightened blush when ladies walk over me wearing skirts, but I try not to look. And not everyone has the decency to wipe their shoes before coming into the house on a rainy day. I especially resent the dog with the dribbling bladder who showers me regularly in such an indelicate manner. Worst are the children who eat too much ice cream when they’re out and then complain of having sore stomachs and vomit up on me. I’ve been cleaned so many times which is quite an undignified process, and I don’t suppose it’ll be too long before I’m thrown out. I’ve become so threadbare that I tend to wrinkle up a bit, and it wouldn’t surprise me if someone were to trip on me, go head first through the French windows onto the lawn and break their neck.