Penelope crossed her arms. "Do not."

Kenny snorted. "Obviously boys have it harder. We're expected to ask a girl out, kiss her, propose to her, support her, buy her a car and a house and all that junk."

"It's harder on girls," Penny told her older cousin.

Kenny smirked. "Two words. Prove. It."

Penny smiled and changed the subject. Or so it seemed. "How would you like to have you body programmed to give you a horrible stomach ache every month for a week or so?"

Kenny frowned. "I wouldn't," he admitted.

"How would you like to have to deal with boys hitting on you just because you have two boobs?"

Kenny could see where this was going. At twenty, he could deal with talking about this. Just not with his eighteen-year-old cousin. "Now, Pen, dear--"

Penny cut him off. "Answer me."

"Penny, that's just sick. All boys don't do that."

She smiled. "How would you, along with that stomanch ache, like having blood seep from your genitals?"

He started shifting uncomfortably, "Now, see here, Pen--"

She looked at him. "Do boys put up with any of that?"

"No-o."

She nodded. "I rest my case.