The Bristled Ridge

A wooden scrub brush rested bristles-up against the baseboard! A prickly valley was daring me to cross. I did not circle around. I marched forward and drove my foot right down onto the stiff yellow bristles! The stiff fibers bent slightly with a harsh scraping sound, gripping beneath my claws. It felt like walking across a bed of rigid dried quills. I placed my second foot down and stood directly atop the bristled ridge. Total stability achieved! I leaned back against the smooth wall, letting the stiff fibers support my weight for the night.#80s no one can stop the orange T-Rex with this sponge