The Singing Spring

I crept along the hallway floor and came face-to-face with a coiled metal spring protruding from the white baseboard. Crouching low, I stretched out the barrel of my toy prop and gingerly nudged the rubber cap. The spring flexed back under pressure, then snapped forward with a furious, buzzing twang. I threw my arms overhead in mock-dismay, tumbled backward onto the polished floorboards, and froze with wide, astonished eyes as the coil blurred. When the vibration finally dwindled to a gentle hum, I sat right back up, leaned close, and gave it an enthusiastic two-handed silent ovation.