The rug pulled itself up from the floor and started to walk towards the door of the museum. Enough was enough. He as going to go and complain to the local authorities. He was sick of being trampled on. The beautiful red and blue design of it had been rined by the constant trampling of millions ipon millions of feet. It made this rug very upset. He hated the sounds of footsteps. Absolutely dreaded them every time he heard the sounds of footsteps getting closer to him. So, he had decided to take action. He hailed a taxi, and had it drive him to the local police station. The station was small, made of solid yellow bricks, with three police cars parked at the back. It was a two storey builiding, and it was clear that it really needed some renovations as it did not look very modern. Once there he went inside and seeing there was no one else there he went to speak to the police officer at the front desk.
"Officer, I would like to make a complaint." said the rug with all the confidence he could muster.
"Yes, what is it? Noisy neighbours? Murder?" sighed the officer, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper.
"I wish to make a complaint against the people of this fair city. I have been trampled on for far too long."
"But your a rug, your designed to be trampled on."
"I may be a rug, but I shouldn't have to take this kind of abuse."
"Abuse? You are a rug. You can't feel anything."
"I can feel all those shoe imprints all over me!"
"Oh whinge, whinge, whinge."
"You are not a very good policeman, are you?"
"You be careful, other wise I;m booking you."
"What for?"
"Wasting police time."
"Won't that require actual work from you?"
"You are very self important for a rug, ren't you?"
"I think it is important to have some confidence in yourself."
"Well good for you..."
"Sarcasm does not suit you."
"All those shoeprints don't suit you."
"Ahh, so you admit that I have been abused!"
"No, I can admit you have shoeprints."
"So you can't help me?"
"No."
"Well I guess I'm wasting my time here! See you later, officer"
"Whatever."
With that the rug left the police station, more angry than when he had first entered the building. He was getting nowhere. Clearly he had to do something. He had to start a rug revolution. He had to lead the rugs in a glorious uprising against the oppressive humans that had denied his people a rightful place in society. This wa his calling, this is what he was out on this earth to do. The dream, the vision was about to become a reality.. He could taste change, he could sense it in his bones.
But first he had to search revolution, so he went to the library, and he borrowed the dictionary. Unfortunately for him, the rug actually stole the dictionary, as rugs were not allowed library cards. So the rug was quickly arrested for book thievery and thrown into jail.