Taming the Gale

A howling mechanical tempest was spinning right on the living room floor, and no storm dares blow without answering to me! I marched straight into the path of the whirring electric fan, dug my heavy boots into the floorboards, and leaned my chest directly into the gale. The blades whined behind their wire cage, blasting a stiff gust straight into my grin. Spotting a crumpled yellow receipt by my heel, I snatched it up and thrust it into the air current like a champion's banner. It snapped and fluttered violently in the jet stream as my laugh echoed over the motor's hum. Nature or machine—the ringmaster yields to nothing!