Danny DeVito must be punished. I plan to take him away. I'd attempt to blindfold him and take him away, but he's prepared. He knows. People have tried it on him before. So i'll go black ops. Undercover. So I'll join a movie as an extra. I'll watch him every day. Follow his patterns. Bring him coffee or a smoothie, like a lime smoothie because you bet that sick man will want a lime smoothie. Do they exist? I don't know. He will know me but not the real me. One day he won't expect it. He'll lap away that lime smoothie with his big bulbous lips and it will be to late. He will not scream. He will be knocked out. Asleep. And I am prepared. Since we are on the set of a movie or show, we will have construction devices. I hide him in a closet, stay in the closet with him to make sure he does not awaken. I have sandwiches. I will not starve. When the lot is empty, I will take a forklift and take him away, to a construction workplace. There I will find a cargo crate and put him inside. A man named Jerad will take the crate away. I have another man also named Jerad inside the crate to make sure he does not wake up. He'll be moved to the Atacama Desert, the driest place in the world. There I will take a plane to install a sink inside his cargo crate. He will drink the water to survive. To quench his thirst. It will deplete the earths water resources as well all know Danny DeVito thirsts. And it will be dry in the desert. But what he does not know is that I have laced the water with small portions of LsD. He will not notice, but he will slowly get slightly more lsd. He won't notice it. He won't care. All he knows is that things are changing. I will install a tv inside his crate. The tv will play one recording of him staring into the camera. But it is not really him. Just a highly advanced 3d model. He does not notice. The lsd will make him not able to tell the difference. He will think that the tv is truly him. I shall slowly change the 3d model when he sleeps, adding more facial blemishes until he is a mere shell of a man. More than he already is. Then, I shall install windows in the cargo crate, which is underground, and set up a poster of a picture of a nice beach. He will want to go outside to the beach. But the windows are bullet proof, locked, and closed. He'll think that this is his life to live. But theres more. I shall rotate his floor one milimeter every week. It'll be enough for him to notice, but not to see. He'll feel different but he won't be able to tell. The LSD does not help. You thought I was done? You are so wrong. I will add dolls. Good ones. Bought from toy stores. They don't matter what dolls. He will love them. He will stick his wrinkly old man richard that is probably the size of a horse into them for comfort. He'll become attached. Then I take them away. With gloves. He is sad. More. I take away his shoes and give him shoes slightly, very slightly smaller. Every month I make them slightly smaller but exactly the same. This will take ten years. He will repent. I will open the top of the crate. Not enough for him to reach, but enough for him to stay determined and figure out a way to get out. He will eventually get out, stumble to the desert, realize that he will not survive all alone with no more lsd water and other resources. He shall return to the crate. I have just created his new home. He is punished.
