Polka on the Rail

I grabbed a stiff, accordion-pleated dry leaf off the porch rail and clamped both pink suction hands against the ribbed folds! Morning sun beamed across the glossy white paint, turning the entire handrail into our concert stage. While my star-wearing pinecone buddy locked into his autotuned T-Pain crouch holding his little acorn cap microphone, I pumped the leaf accordion back and forth, belting out an energetic Weird Al polka rhythm across the yard. Pop, step, slide! I shuffled sideways toward the post overlooking the neighbor's fence, keeping the beat locked tight for that Thanksgiving bbno$ verse to hit. Type 1 to drop into a wild polka chorus, or type 2 to vault onto the fence post next?