Powerbomb

I have a headache.

I have a headache because today gave rise to a new quirk.

We have bizarre quirks. Like meowing, and monkey-jump, from which we derived monkey-climb.

Except the powerbomb is different in that it's fun for only one of us. Guess which one!

Actually, it might have started from yesterday. I was in Jez's hallway when he decides to creep up from behind me, lift me up and carry me upside-down for a bit. I felt like the blood that rushed to my head was about to pour out of my ears.

Sadly, from now on I'll have to be careful what I say and do around the boy. Whenever I did something that didn't quite sit well with him today, I found myself held up by the ankles.

I find it distinctly unfair that I'm subject to these kinds of hilariously uncomfortable punishments just because I can be overpowered. Like being held down and tickled until I almost piss myself, or having raspberries blown on my stomach. On rare occasions when I'm struggling while being tickled on the bottom of my feet I kick him in the balls.

Of course, I've had my revenge, but compared to his crazy crazy antics they were laughably tame. Like drawing two faces on his ass that kiss when he clenches; writing "forest of Cheng" on his lusciously hairy shins; and today scribbling something about him having hobbit feet on the lateral side of his ankles. The boy has long legs and found it impossible to read my small text. After struggling on the couch, the bed and then in front of the mirror to no avail, he took a photo of his ankle, read the message and two seconds later I found my face inches from the ground. Again.

You can find more maturity in a ten-year-old than the two of us combined.