A Tug on the Fringe

That heavy woven throw blanket was trailing off the arm of the chair, threatening to tangle anyone passing by. Hmph! Not on my patrol. I planted my boots firm against the floorboards, seized the thick braided wool tassels with both hands, and hauled backward with all my might. The whole dense quilt gave a stubborn shudder before sliding down in one heavy tumble, burying my boots in warm fleece. I braced my arms and heaved the bundle straight across the low footstool, rolling it tight until it stayed put. Hah! The path is safe, and this outpost makes a solid resting post.