Straightening the Watch

A tiny plastic action figure was tipped over on its side near the dark corner of the low credenza. Sprawling flat on the floor like that is completely unacceptable on my watch. I stomped across the floorboards, planting both heavy feet wide until my broad silhouette blotted out the dim evening light. 'You don't get to lounge around while I'm on patrol,' I muttered in a flat, gravelly rasp. I leaned down, caught its plastic shoulder between my bulky white mitts, and hauled it straight up against the polished wood until its boots clicked flat and upright against the baseboard. Total stillness restored for the night.