BACK TO FORMULA?!

Your hella stupid!?

>20633735
A bait so bad it wasn't even worth a (You).

yeah but i bet you didnt even know that it's called an interrobang did you faggot?!

I'd love to kick Warwick Davis in the head. Just take a few steps run up then catch him with the full force of my steel capped toe under his chin, send that little faggot flying through the air.

As he lies on the floor, coughing and wheezing and chocking on his own blood, his jaw a mangled mess of bones detached from the rest of his skull, I stand over him and laugh wickedly. He looks up at me in fear and pain, his eyes searching, begging me for mercy. He finds none. I raise my boot then stomp down, splitting his skull like a melon and finally ending his pathetic life.

I want to do this to my roommates desu

I don't really care desu.

Oh man it'd be great to just fly him up into the stratosphere and then turn the power off and let him drop onto a highway for his corpse to be ran over.

I'd bludgeon Warwick with the son, mainly cause it would kill the son before him and Warwick would cry and scream in anguish. He'd probably rush me. Trying to take down the monster that beat him bloody and slaughtered his vile son. I would laugh. Laugh so evilly that the logic triumphs over the rage and he realises how hopeless it is take down a great lumbering brute like me. When I finally see this realisation dawn on him and hopelessness touch his eyes, I shall treat him to a very wicked smirk and saunter over to his daughter, who is grieving over the remains of her halfing (or quarterling) mutant of a brother. I shall grab her by the ankles. She lets out a shriek of terror. Warwick rushes me again but I just kick him in the jaw and send him flying, and, of course, reduce his jaw to a mangled ruin of blood and broken bone. I stand of him with his daughter squirming, laugh maliciously once more for posterity's sake, raise his daughter high, and slam her down onto her vile sire again and again and again and finally end that goblin's worthless life.

INSPECTOR MIDGET, HOOH HOOOH

I, for one, would like to stick my thumbs into Warick Davis's eye sockets. I want to feel his ocular organs squish into a bloody, viscous pulp beneath the soft, yielding flesh of my fingertips. I want to hear his screams of absolute terror and pain as he realizes he'll never see again.

Then, I would remove my thumbs from his eyesockets, giving him a brief respite as I grabbed a pair of barbeque tongs and a dull butterknife. with the tongs I would pluck out his ruined eyeballs and sever the optic nerves with the butter knife. at this point I would already have a hot plate going with a buttered pan ready to crudely sautee Warwick's juicy macula. As they sizzled in the pan, he would smell them, and after having been starved for days on end, he might even have the nerve to comment about how good whatever I was cooking smelled - not being able to see what it was, of course.

"Here, try some." I would offer, giving him a heaping spoonful of the fried, well-seasoned sight-flesh. He would gobble it down eagerly, begging for more like the deformed goblin he was, still not aware of what he was eating. I would feed him the rest, and only after he had eaten it all would I tell him what it truly was.

As he screamed in horror and retched, I would put my thumbs into his empty eyesockets for the last time. I would drive them deep, deep into his empty ocular cavities, until I broke through the fragile bone and began to push my fingers into his brain. Slowly, his musical shrieking of pain and terror would abate as his brain becomes too damaged to operate his vocal cords, let alone comprehend what is happening to him.

At this point, I place my massive, throbbing erection in front of his vegetative face and begin to powerfuck his eye sockets. In and out, in and out, over and over, until his brains are nothing more than a mess of dead cells and tangled dendrites. As I climaxed, I would push myself balls deep into his skull, seed mixing with ruined neurons in a perverse cocktail.

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Imagine putting Warwick Davis in a bucket thats just tall enough to drown him in and have an endless rotation of random men ejaculate on him until he either drowns in cum or decides to consume it

I swear, God as my witness I will one day kill Warwick Davis. He lives in the UK same as me and it is very easy to find where he is going to be, out with family, book signing etc. He is not a huge star so he will have no security to protect him, and I will plan and make my move. He will be waddling down the street by himself or with his mutant family and I will strike. I will pull up my hoodie and charge at him, and all it will take is one shot to get him airborne. This is not a fantasy this is a proclamation of what I will do to him within the next 1-3 years. I will run at him and with all my might throw a soccer kick right to his face, while laughing with glee as I hear his bones shatter and I see him fly through the air as I imagined he would all these years. I unfortunately will have my face covered so I will not be able to see the look of fear on his hobgoblin wife and children as I then jump into the air, arms open like an eagle, knee raised into the air and then swiftly brought down on Warwick's skull with the full force of my hatred of mutants behind it. I will then crouch down and look at him so he can see the eyes of the man who did this to him then swiftly flee the scene and disappear into the crowded city and easily without being seen.

>Wicket! Get down from there and help me find the prison keys!*

*Translated from weird rodent noises.

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I'd love to play a game of Fridge The Midge with Warwick Davis. What's Fridge The Midge, one might ask? It's simple: you put a midget in a refrigerator. You and the boys put him in the crisper drawer, shut the door, gather 'round, drink some cold ones, and laugh yourself lightheaded over hearing the pathetic little midget's futile attempts to escape. He's not strong enough to push the door open, he doesn't have the leverage or space to even get the crisper drawer open, the cold is slowing him down, he's running out of air, he knows it's almost over for him and starts screaming for help. Maybe you liven things up a little by shaking the refrigerator to spook him, or say "oh my God is somebody in there" and open the door to give him a glimmer of hope before slamming it shut and mocking him, it's up to you. I wouldn't recommend letting the midget die, that's when things get complicated. Though, I suppose it'll be easy to hide the body, considering... you know.

Based Teek poster!

This would be the only fun thing about being that size. If I were a midget, I would ride a drone everywhere. I would make a special chair to sit in.

chess notation disagrees

Warwick Davis. Imagine this guy yelling at you. No, this isn’t just a meme post, just imagine it. You’ve had some kind of altercation in public, and before you is this deformed little creature, this sickeningly morphed little fucking gnome, screaming at you. The veins on his forehead popping out, his eyes bloodshot and his infuriating little brick head bright red as he spits out his curses. Modern society would have you believe this gruesome, odious midget it your equal, that you should stand here and take this. But that’s counter to your intuition and you know it. Your mind races back to the days of your ancestors, how their burning souls would have been inflamed by such a confrontation, this freak, this hideous little THING thinking it has right to talk to you in such a manner. That primal instinct kicks in, and without hesitation you do the sensible thing and let the foul goblin know it’s place- you stride forward with righteous zeal, his shouts cease for a moment. This is unexpected to the annoying little fuck, a flash of panic crosses his malformed, elongated cartoonish face as it contorts suddenly into a comical farce of what on a normal human would resemble fear. He almost trips stepping backward, the illusion of his right to speak, right to live, manufactured authority over you shattering as he can only let out a brief plea “No!” before you are upon him. A hook cracks right, that satisfying crunch as it connects with the hideous creature, the feeling of a bullet ripped from the barrel of a gun as your rage explodes into controlled, refined physical force. You feel his weak and unnatural bones twist and crunch around your knuckles, his flesh contort as you see his terrified and utterly shocked face fold around your fist. All for a glorious moment, before he crumples and folds like some kind of warped fleshy paper, his deformed little freak cartoon body falling like sand over the ground as the facade of his equality dissolves under nature.

I would lawyer up.

Could you imagine being Warwick Davis and coming out of a restaurant with your family, their little bellies filled to bursting after a stick of complimentary bread was passed around the table for two hours.
After a 20 minute hike you all finally cross the parking lot only to find a pitbull standing between you and your Cozy Coupe.
While sniffs around your family like the tyrannosaurus from Jurassic Park you are paralysed knowing that if any of you make one wrong move this towering canine will be shitting your entire genetic legacy out of it's body.

I would just accept death at that point.