Subjugating the Timber Grid

The stuffy air indoors could not hold me, so I marched out through the side gate straight into the delivery lane behind the market. Propped against the brick wall sat a weathered wooden shipping pallet, its heavy pine slats nailed into a merciless rectangular grid. One crooked runner was jutting out sideways, daring to breach the perimeter. Insubordination! I grabbed the rough board with both fists, planted my boots against the crossbeam, and shoved with all my weight until it jammed flush against the mortar seam. To consecrate the timber fortress under royal protocol, I opened my jaws wide and sank a testing bite into the pine edge. It tasted of dry resin and total surrender.