Scraping the Iron Beast

I stalked along the mossy brick walk until I tripped right over a black cast-iron beast bolted to the stone! It had a flat, upright scraper bar jutting out like a dull iron spine between two curled iron claws. Ha! You dare try to block my path? I dropped onto my knees, brandished my kitchen knife, and jammed the sharp tip straight against its rough serrated ridge. *Skrrr-CHING!* Orange sparks chipped off the rusted iron, stinging my palms with the clean bite of struck metal! *Snicker!* I leaned my whole weight into a savage swipe until the iron bar rang like an anvil. That dull tooth knows who has the real bite!