No.615311
File: 1710373398040.jpg (395.64 KB, 1544x880, 1710308196166353.jpg)
>>615310what is this trying to say
No.615313
Imagine just slamming Warwick Davis as hard as you can. Just going full speed, grabbing him with both arms, lifting him clear over your head, and just slamming him down into the concrete with every fiber of muscle in your body. The noise of his destruction would be akin to a gunshot, but rather than the crack of a supersonic bullet, it is the collective cracking of every bone in his tiny body. He could just be waddling his little midge waddle and suddenly find himself lifting into the air, and the next time he blinks he is launching towards the sidewalk at literally breakneck speed. Every little midge bone in his little midge body would be broken, if not outright shattered. Compound fractures would tear through both his skin and pierce his internal organs. Blood and cranial fluids would leak from the multiple open fractures across his skull. His lower teeth would be driven into his unhinged jaw. And as the life fades away from him and his vision would turn black, he's look up at you and beg with his eyes "Why?" Yet your casual stride away from him would give him the only answer he is worthy of: "Why not?" You see, Warwick's entire midge life is utterly beneath the notice of actual humans, and snuffing his pathetic life out was an action done so casually and so carelessly it was far beyond your notice. It was a thoughtless impulse, one already forgotten. The one and only reason nobody had ended his pitiful midge life earlier was because nobody else could be bothered. He wasn't even worth the time to put any conscious thought into killing. With that realization, Warwick Davis releases his bowels (a runny midge poop, as midges lack the intestinal length to properly process food) and dies. Nobody bothers burying him.