A Slotted Haul

Clutching my bent-wire hook and brass counterweight, I dropped flat onto my stomach and peered into the narrow shadow under the bookshelf. Mmph! I slid the rig in through the carpet pile until the metal clinked against something solid. Bracing my boots against the floor, I gently tugged the cord back. Out slid a smooth, translucent green six-sided die, trailing tiny gray dust bunnies. I brushed the fuzz off against my parka, gave the die a quick spin across the fibers, and tucked my trusty hook securely through my hood cord for the next expedition.