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.