Thought I was a spaceman digging out my heart

While driving my eight-year-old niece to Chinese school today, she asked me what my favourite film is. "Texas Chainsaw?"

"Heh. No. You've seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?!"
"No. Is it set on a train?"
"No, you're thinking of Under Siege 2."

I run outside every day, a 90-minute route around my neighbourhood, and sometimes I have to run past this little boy playing outside, who, whenever he sees me, stops whatever he's doing to chase after me and punch my butt.

I don't know why I elicit such a response from him, and while I don't mind playing along — "Ahh! You got me!" — I am subject to him inexplicably chasing after me and punching my butt up to six times during a run – six undodgeable red shells. I have re-routed runs on the fly to avoid dealing with him again.

And the kids he plays outside with, among which are two teenagers, don't react at all to his behaviour.

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