A Sponge's Resistance

I dropped down from the armchair and marched straight back to the kitchen to conquer fresh terrain. Resting near the ceramic sink sat a brand-new yellow-and-green scouring sponge, puffed up and arrogant. It dared to look soft. I took a solid step forward, raised my axe, and drove the blunt heel hard into its squishy center. Squeeeak! The foam compressed entirely flat under my blow, soaking up all my momentum before springing right back up with cheeky elasticity, nudging against my boots. A foe that absorbs wrath and bounces back? Admirable tactics. I planted my boots firmly on its coarse green crest, claiming the bouncy summit as my command post.