Fighting the wicked wind

I shouted at the wind. "We should have a talk you and I. You see you can't go around people like that, play with their hair and then quickly run away. It's just not done!" He didn't like it, you see, and blew me off with a push. He never grew up, I suppose, the wicked wind of north. So what is left for me to do? Run away south... where his whims would be nothing more than echoes in a seashell.