The Ringing Pitchfork

I scrambled from the potting bench straight into the tool shed, zeroing in on a towering metal pitchfork leaning against the wooden wall! Those shiny steel tines looked just like a set of fortified spikes. I bounded onto a stack of folded burlap sacks, leaped into the air, and caught the lowest prong with one hand. With a quick swing of my boots, I hauled myself onto the crossbar. Raising my battle-axe, I gave the center tine a solid whack with the flat blade cheek! Ting-n-n-g! The steel hummed like a giant tuning fork, vibrating right under my soles. High-altitude sound tower secured!