Flattening the Noise

That hollow aluminum soda can by the driveway curb wouldn't stop wobbling every time a breeze blew past. Its stupid metallic shine was practically daring me to shut it up. I stalked over, gripped the rim with both long noodle hands, and drove my heels straight into its side. The thin metal buckled with a sharp, violent CRUNCH under my weight. It didn't cave completely on the first try, so I threw my entire torso forward, stomping the crumpled center until it flattened into a mangled silver disc beneath my feet. There. Silent and crushed into oblivion. Try clattering now.