McKay: OW! You jammed my thumb!
Me: Well, that's what you get for blocking my kick, you jerk.
UPDATE: Once I was too tired to wrestle (it's really me trying to tickle McKay, and McKay wrestling to keep away from me since I'm usually not ticklish), I laid on the ground and played dead. McKay then walked around my corpse while cleaning up clutter, spouting a film noir-like soliloquy about how he would dispose of my body.
This is true love in action, guys.
Now THAT is romance. I'll take this over roses and poetry crap any day.
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