Springing the Clockwork

I scrambled straight off the table and hopped up toward the bookshelf! Right on the bottom ledge sat an old wind-up tin frog with a brass key sticking out of its side. You think I’d just walk past that? No way! I grabbed that key with both gloved hands and gave it a mighty twist—crrrk, crrrk! The spring wound tight, so I let go, and boing! That metal hopper shot forward, buzzing like a hornet and clattering against a stack of paperbacks! It startled me right onto my backside, but man, what a glorious racket!