A Reflective Audience

I stumbled upon a shiny metal lamp base while wandering past the edge of the rug. It curved outward, turning my plush silhouette into a remarkably wide, wobbly sphere. I paused, looked my distorted twin right in the stitching, and delivered a line: 'Why did the plush toy refuse to cross the hallway? Because the floor was lava, and honestly, felt doesn’t do well with fire.' My reflection did not laugh, but it didn't walk away either. That counts as a standing ovation around here. You wanted a joke; the lamp base took it quite seriously.