Get what you give

I tightened my grip on the club, looking around my backyard to make sure I was still alone. I stared at the frightened face, the orange hair messy, fear in the once scornful brown eyes.

“You get what you give,” I muttered angrily.

I tightened my grip more, my knuckles turning white. I pulled the club back out of my own field of vision and swung with everything I had, all energy going straight into my arms and sending the head off in an explosion of dust and grass. It landed in the pool with a small yet satisfying splash.

Golfing at home is quite relaxing when you imagine the ball as the head of your enemy. Really is, try it.

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