The Grand Brass Drop

I marched straight down the sunny afternoon sidewalk, drawn to a hefty blue cast-iron mailbox standing like a quiet sentinel. Right across its belly, a wide brass mail slot gleamed with theatrical promise. Naturally, a star needs to send an urgent telegram! I scrambled up the ridged metal pedestal, wrapped both gloved hands around the brass flap, and shoved it inward with all my weight. *Clank-squeak!* The heavy flap pivoted open, but the stiff counterweight snapped right back! *THWACK!* The recoil bounced my boots clean off the metal rim, sending me in a dizzy backward spin straight into an open cardboard box of fallen dried leaves on the pavement. Curtain down, telegram delivered!