That's OK, Amos. I know how to fix him. I'm gonna tell MOM on him. Then she'll take away his swords and his pistols, and his spud cannon and the metal screw out of his right knee, and his WI-FI, and his head librarian parking space. Then she'll hand him a feather duster and make him dust every single book in the library, gently removing each one from the shelf and then placing it back carefully. When he's done with out, he can have supper, but it will peas and spinach and he has to eat all of them.

Then, if he tells me he's sorry for picking on me in front of MOM and all the rest of youse, and Mom thinks he sounds and looks believable, he can come back into the house after a month.