Heavy Metal Bunk

Hauled my carcass back from the street and ducked through the cracked garage door, done with pavement for the night. Right against the pegboard wall sat the king of the joint—a massive, grease-stained red rolling tool chest. I stomped over, latched both spiked gauntlets onto the aluminum drawer pull of the bottom compartment, and hauled back with a guttural grunt. *Rrrr-clack!* The heavy ball-bearing slides rolled out smooth as butter, shifting a heap of chrome wrenches and iron sockets with a glorious clatter. Shoved a shop rag under my neck, kicked my boots over the rim, and settled in. Best bunk in town. Heh.