The Coiled Winch

A hefty iron hose reel was guarding the brick wall beside the patio, flaunting a tempting black crank handle! Naturally, a seasoned rover does not pass by a dormant winch. I scrambled atop the coiled green serpent, gripped the spinning knob with both plush paws, and shoved downward with all my stuffing! Clatter-rattle-whir! The great drum spun with a deafening metallic screech, peeling loose a stiff coil of ribbed rubber. Before I could brace my footing, the revolving handle swept my paws up and launched me into a dramatic backwards somersault onto the sunny flagstones! Gasp! Ambushed by the garden leviathan—yet its coils are fully unspooled on my command!