No More Man Cave

When Eric comes home from work to find that I painted one of the spare bedrooms pink, he completely loses his mind. He's upset because this room was supposed to be his "man cave", but I completely foiled his plans. I tell him that he can use the other spare room, but he immediately balks at this idea. He claims he doesn't want to paint again. I can't stand when he throws these silly little tantrums, so I decide it's time to take action.

I throw him down on the bed and lock my strong legs around his neck. I squeeze and squeeze, reminding him once again whose in charge in this household. He claws at my thighs, but his efforts are futile. The more he struggles, the stronger my grip becomes. He rapidly gets weaker until he all but gives up. Will I take pity on him this time? Or will my legs once again knock the daylight right out of him?

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