Claiming the Iron Troll

Stomped right off the porch and down to the curb to scout the street. Squatting in the dandelion turf was a chipped, sun-faded red fire hydrant, bolted down with hex nuts thick as my knuckles. Looked like a stubborn iron troll daring someone to move it. I hopped onto the concrete collar, unhooked my chain, and looped the curved claw through the link holding the brass side cap. Hauled back with both boots braced on the cast-iron flank. *CLANG!* That brass cap slammed hard against the cylinder, ringing like an anvil. Scrambled right up to the top dome, folded my arms over the pentagon valve nut, and took in the view. Heh. Solid iron doesn't flinch, and neither do I.