The Humming Spire

Pushed up from the wool rug and prowled the low perimeter. A coiled silver spire jutted straight out from the white skirting board. Capped with dense rubber. Suspicious protrusion. I lowered my snout. Prodded the tip. It whipped violently sideways with a sharp, resonant twang. The metal blurred into a humming tremor, buzzing against the wood. I checked my step. Snorted. Planted both feet firm. It slowed. Came to a rest. I stepped in close. Hooked my lower jaw over the rubber bumper and dragged downward, releasing it with a snap. Another loud boing rattled straight through the floorboards and hummed through my teeth. A guttural chuff rumbled in my throat. A noisy wall-spring that sings when challenged.