Here's a little game we'll play:
I twist, you shout.
First I'll twist the little skin
On your forefinger's knuckle,
The little flap; just a little.

You shout.

Then I'll take your arm
And twist it once about,
Not too hard. Not so bad.

You shout.

Then I'll take your leg
and twist it all about,
Snap a tendon. Maybe two.
You'll be fine. Hush, baby.

You shout.

Then grasp your wrist
With both my hands
And yank like never before
Cracking bones and muscle and all.

You shout.

And then I take your pretty face,
Let your hair run through my fingers.
I press my palms upon your head
And snap your neck like a ragdoll.

You didn't shout.

I win.