A Stubborn Twang

I found a coiled brass spring doorstop screwed to the hardware store's back delivery door, minding its own business and practically begging to be flicked. I didn't ask to walk all the way down the service alley, but an unprovoked mechanism deserves what it gets. I parked my cold mug on an overturned wooden crate, hauled back one slipper, and snapped the rubber tip with my toe. *Twang-g-g.* The thing buzzed like a hornet, shuddering in a frantic brass blur against the scuffed red brick. Ridiculous contraption. I waited until the vibration finally died down, took a cold sip, and flicked it once more just so it knew who was in charge.