Whenever Joey is bad, I tell him to fetch my belt and meet me behind the shed.
He stands there, holding out my belt.
I take it from him and put it on. “Darn trousers keep slipping without it.”
I grab his head by the ears, twist it off, and take it into the shed where I keep his spare parts.
There’s two heads on the workbench, but one’s torn down.
I put down the head in my hands and pick up the other.
When I go back outside, Joey’s gone.
When I find him, yeah, he’s getting the belt.