Wish I had command of an army of mid-sized squirrels.
They would rabbit-kick the bad out of people to whom I wish an ill-fated and untimely demise.
This way, me hardy fools, I wouldn't have to dirty my smooth, white hands with their unclean blood.
And once those people were rabbit-kicked clean, I could put them to work caring for my Squirrel Army.
Or task them in service as ushers at the squirrel ballet -- a 21st century revisioning of The Nutcracker.