I'm going to give him a separate licking for every alleged joke.

I'll want two steaks, Sandy.

I'll likely have to give you about seven distinct wallopings.

Hand me some more matches to keep tally with.

I don't want to cheat you out of your just dues." Sandy eyed him doubtfully while he scraped the ashes from the grate.
"You may want a dozen steaks, but that ain't saying you're going to git 'em," he retorted, with a feeble show of aggression.