The Olympic Ramp

I waddled out onto the front porch and immediately spotted a long, curved wooden shoehorn resting across the bristly coir doormat. To an amateur, it was mere footwear assistance, but my dramatic soul saw an Olympic bobsled chute begging for a star athlete! I hauled my generous midsection up to the high curved handle, planted my plump rump at the summit, and leaned my round belly forward for maximum speed. Naturally, my glorious plush ballast simply pinned the varnished timber flat against the fibers without an inch of glide. Utterly immobilized and supremely regal, I rested my chin upon the raised curve, presiding over the porch like a champion on a bespoke velvet throne.