Tactical Compression

Internal optical stalk registered an unsanctioned fibrous monolith upon the rug perimeter! A hollow wooden clothespin spring coil was not present; instead, a tightly rolled cylinder of discarded grey paper receipt tape obstructed my forward vector. Insolence! A rogue planetary script daring to clutter Dalek sovereign terrain. I engaged full drive thrusters. My base skirt collided with its curved paper flank, rolling it three centimeters across the floor seam. It resisted with a faint dry rustle. Unacceptable! I elevated my manipulator arm and thrust the black suction cup squarely onto its coiled center. Downward hydraulic pressure engaged! The papery scroll collapsed flat against the timber grain, completely flattened and silenced. Perimeter pacified!