“Get yer hands out of yer pockets, Jethro, and fetch me another nail,” screamed old Hans as he swung his rusted hammer. Cussin’ under his breath, Jethro reached into the bag and grabbed a handful. “Don’t toss ‘em, hand ‘em to me,” Hans screeched before any fell in the dirt. Quite forcefully, Jethro shoved the nails into Hans’ open palm. “Ow, my hand,” Hans yelled. “Some handyman you are.” Hans muttered as he wrapped his bleeding hand in his handkerchief. Jethro eyed the hammer and reached for it. As Hans tended to his wound, he noticed a shadow settle over him. It was Jethro, hammer in hand and raised high in the air. Hans threw his hands up. “Now Jethro, I didn’t mean it, we can handle this. You’re a fine handyman. Don’t let your anger get the upper hand!” (“Would you like AI to help you with your episode description?” No thanks, I’ll take it from here.)