Smashing Fun

I have a friend called Darryl; he’s always relaxed and doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the word “stress”. He’s also a picture framer by trade, and an all-around good bloke. Kind and passive and an old romantic, up until last week I had always put him down to be the kind of person who wouldn’t hurt a fly and who spent his time doing yoga. How I was wrong.

I arrived at his door to find him sporting a menacing grin.

“Everything alright mate?” I said, noticing some nasty skin lesions on his right arm. “Why are you grinning so menacingly? How did you get them?”

He smiled. “Yes old chap, and you will soon see, I need to be more careful in future! You want to come and see what I’ve been doing? Maybe you could use it.”

I said I wasn’t convinced I did want to, actually, and that I did not want cuts on my arm or anywhere. He shrugged this off and asked me to follow him upstairs, said that soon I would be completely relaxed. We arrived outside the room which I had never been in. The secret room where I assumed he stored his picture frames. Relaxed was the last thing I was feeling.

“Now, I am about to let you in on a big secret, ok?” he said. “Do you think you can keep it? I mean, I wouldn’t want everyone knowing how I stay so passive.”

I said I would keep it, of course. And so we entered.

Inside it was completely empty. Except for a shelf with piles and piles of plates on. He grabbed one and threw it at the wall, and it exploded with a deafening crash!

“You have a go!” he said.

I said “why?”

He said, “you’ll see!”

I had a go, and I did. Smashing plates was fantastic for letting off steam! After we’d each done about twenty or so, I felt like a new man!