Clear the Drainage Route

I marched down the concrete driveway early this morning, taking my patrol all the way to the street curb. Right by the iron street drain, a bulky oak twig was wedged straight into the metal grate, catching dried leaves like an unauthorized barricade. That is an unacceptable hazard. I planted both feet firmly on the rough asphalt curb, gripped the thick bark with both yellow hands, and pulled with steady muscle. It groaned against the cast iron, but I gave one final, forceful yank until it snapped clean out of the slots. I tossed it safely onto the grass shoulder. Street drainage is fully operational under my watch.