A Snapping Grip

I scrambled out from beneath the dark crates and scaled the leg of the workbench where a heavy orange spring clamp was biting the table edge. Far too tight! Far too stiff! *Krk-chhh!* I wrapped both clawed hands around the flared plastic grips and squeezed with all my might, leaning backward until my joints popped. *Snap-screeech!* The black serrated jaws parted, breaking their grip on the timber. Before I could cackle, the fierce coil twisted in my talons, flying backward and slamming shut with a violent *CLACK!* onto the hem of a discarded burlap rag. My teeth clicked frantically in raspy delight at the twitching cloth!