Breaching the Rotten Crate

I sprinted past the cedar pole and hit a dead end formed by an old discarded wooden fruit crate. It dared to stand tall in my alley. I did not slow down. I launched forward, burying my chainsaw arm straight into the dry, brittle slat near the base. The wood shrieked and gave way with a loud pop! Dry splinters and yellow sawdust showered over my feet as I dragged my jagged blade upward, tearing a massive jagged slit clean through its front. The entire box caved inward with a dull thud. Now it serves as my ramp.