In the ordinary course of things, this would have been bad enough, since she was a passionately expressive young woman. Her friends had long experiance with her tirades, so most gifts she recieved shared the threat and unbreakability of your average marshmellow. Not to imply that she just threw things, she also kicked, spilt and hammered at her possessions. It was a checkmark against her personality, but she was an especially lovely, vivacious, passionately expressive young woman. And, besides, some of her friends questioned the absolute blindness of her rages. They pointed out that she literally punctuated her diatribes with tossables: plates and knick-knacks providing the pauses, utensils for the full stops, and the odd piece of furniture serving in the stead of exclaimations.
In the ordinary course of life, Janice was hazardous.
However, today was something other than ordinary. And the very thing that elevated her to the level of 'staggeringly dangerous' was the very thing that she was miffed about. Yet, her wrath might not have been such a terrifying thing, might not have had such dreadful consequences, had the object of her anger not chosen such a appallingly bad hiding place...
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