Mustard Trap

Gliding down from the bus shelter, the savory sizzle of street food pulled me straight across the pavement toward a silver hot dog cart. Right on the stainless steel side shelf, an abandoned metal tong was pinned under a heavy glass mustard jar, trembling every time the vendor reached for buns. Classic mechanical jam! I hopped onto the polished metal edge, hooked my boots around a condiment rack strut, and threw my weight onto the tong’s handle like a crowbar. Clack! The tong sprang loose with a clean bounce, and the mustard jar slid snugly into its round recessed slot. Sector noon perimeter, fully serviced!