Straightening the Velvet Mat

I launched out of the locker alcove, aiming for a high-velocity dash along the perimeter tiles. But right before the lounge threshold, an intolerable insult attacked my headlights! A dark blue velvet entrance mat had been kicked crooked by clumsy commuter heels, sitting at an abhorrent twelve-degree tilt across the polished brass floor strip. A jagged diagonal in my path? Gross insolence! I dropped my front axle into low gear, revved with a blistering snarl, and rammed my front splitter repeatedly against its heavy vulcanized rubber border. Shove! Scrape! The dense mat dragged grudgingly across the terrazzo until its long edge locked dead parallel against the straight brass sill. Geometry defended.