If I ever, ever get it in my fool head again to write a story about six brothers instead of let’s say the manageable two or three, please slap me silly.
Lock me in a cupboard amongst the canned peas.
Tackle me to the floor and bind my fingers together with gorilla glue.
Wrestle me into a hoop skirt and stuff me up the chimney.
Tie me to a tree in the front yard, slather me with honey and call in the bees.
Whatever it takes, just stop me!