Sparring with the Peg

I pushed past the damp lawn weeds, marching straight for the perimeter fence! Right there, wedged upside-down in a weathered knothole, sat a faded wooden clothespin. It looked like an old wooden sparring dummy standing guard! Did it expect me to bow? Hah! I charged in, threw a swift wing jab, and rammed my paper shoulder right into its rusted metal spring. The lever snapped shut with a hollow clack, nipping empty air inches from my bill. A tough counter! I refused to back down—I ducked low, kicked the baseboard until it tipped, and popped the metal spring loose. Now I’ve got that shiny steel clamp tucked under my arm like a true prize!