Jumping on Leaves

"Well, Jack," I said, regaining back the usual sassy confidence I had, "I'd love to stick around and chat, but I rather not make friends with someone who thinks I have emotional problems."

He cocked an eyebrow, looking clearly amused. Scrunching my nose in distaste, I stormed off ... Or at least, I tried to, till someone decided to go and grab my elbow.

I turned to face the good-looking stranger once more, to find that he was clearly stifling laughter. "Okay, okay I'm sorry. But it's just an observation! I mean, you did kind of attack those poor, defenceless leaves. It's only normal to think that it's a way for you to release all that pent-up tension, like screaming into a pillow."

I almost laughed at how much sense he actually made. Almost. Instead, I decided to take a totally different route with my reply. Giving him the most bitter face I could muster, I started again, "Well, didn't it occur to you, that maybe I just liked jumping on leaves?"

Oh God, that made me sound insane. I blinked, trying to salvage my reply, "Uhh. Anyway, I didn't attack those leaves. They're dead anyway."

He had a teasing smile on his lips, obviously bemused by my frustration, or just horribly oblivious. "So, you just wanted to finish the deed and make sure they were dead? You're a sadist then? Or maybe ... just plain weird?"