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You fall short on your profit margin by 50 pence, you are stripped of your clothes and fired.

I walk in and don't intend to spend any money.

I hound you not only through the entire store to buy three boxes of Eldar and a Tomb Kings Battalion box. I keep following you down the block.


I walk inside with an entire group of friends and all start playing MTG.

I tell you that just a day in GW terms means open at 12, close 5.30 and then and that doesn't include the hour break at 3.

I walk in wanting to buy some Calgar blue

I walk in, beat down the clerk that replaced me, before selling you that Calgar blue.

I invite in the Swarmlord, and attempt to wrestle it down.

The Swarmlord starts eating all the models.


I come in and challenge the owner to a Kunai duel. If I win he start's offering a major discount on everything, if he wins I'll buy a full SPESS MEHRINE chapter.

He drops a neckbeard on you then stabs you in the back, You are forced to buy the Astartes Ultra, assemble it and paint it before next week or he'll drop another one you.

I ask advice on starting a Bretonnian army.

I laugh as I hand you a Cadian Defence Force. I then tell you to forge a narrative between the two armies.

I ban the name "Imperial Guard" from the store.

That's fine. Then I show you these all new and totally unique Astra Militarum army?

I drive my car through the store.

I death or glory it with my brand new CitadelTM SprueTM ClippersTM . It penetrates. I roll a 1. I then thank you for forging a narrative between my body and your fender.

I invoke a daemonic ritual on the starter game table.

I try to sell you four daemon boxes and a box of Space Marines to represent the results of your summoning.

I buy up all of the store's stock. I then replace all of the sprues with Chinese recasts, replace the cellophane wrap and come back to return them all.

I thank you for forging an ethnic narrative within the boxes and the company.

I take a kid's lunch money in the GW store.

I don't do anything as it is exactly the same as we do.

I ask for ideas on converting a riptide

(Ooh snap, dat burn.)

I tell you to forge a narrative for it.

I bring a corpse into the store and demand you all worship it.

Edit: I sit it on a toilet seat that's been sprayed with Burnished gold. For funsies.

I mount the corpse on your "golden throne"

I ask the definition of "forging a narrative"

I load you up with a rulebook, the Eldar and Tau codex, 5 riptides, 3 Wraithknights and 6 Wave Serpents. I also tell you to get the Farsight supplement.

I go in with a 20 man guardsman box and tell them I am missing all of the arms.

I tell you to forge a narative around a dictator that cuts off bad people's arms

I bring in a box of guardsmen that have twenty extra set of arms

I ask you to begin constructing a wall of arms, "for narrative purposes".

I expand the store to include additional gaming room, a second floor, a discount section and a food/drinks bar, all available for cut prices.

I thank you for doing what you can for the gaming community, and then I ban you from the store for not buying anything.

I declare a Waaaugh! and start by punching out anyone/everyone who walks into the store.

I call Mr Kirby who beats you with a 7th edition rulebook for keeping him away from his money.

I bring in the masses who are wanting blood for three paragraphs about 7th edition.

I thank you for forging a narrative between the store and the angry mob. I then proceed to draw my Chainsword and get stuck in.

A mount a dead neckbeard to the front of the store with a sign writ in blood: "abandon positive credit score all ye that enter here."

I thank you for forging a narrative between our customers and the bank. I also thank you for you realistic chaos shrine.

I bring in my blood angels, painted with actually blood. (Maybe the brown angels then considering the colour of dried blood)

I praise you for your dedication to Khorne.

I bring in my large breasted girlfriend and tell the staff we want to play a game of "strip Warhammer" in the store: each unit lost equals an article of clothing.

I thank you for forging a narrative between breasts and Warhammer 40k, explaining that such an alliance has been long overdue.

In further support of this, I ban any and all clothes from the GW store. Staff must paint their chests the corresponding shirt colour, while also adopting two other colours to keep to a three colour minimum. I also implement a "must be this attractive" entry requirement, with Abbadon as the standard.

I paint myself gold with odd sots of red and proclaim myself the true emperor of mankind (Apart from Matt Ward)

I bring in a homeless child who needs food and clean clothes.

I thank you for forging a narrative between the starving orphans and the store. I give the it a citadel finenapkin, then demand it pays for it.

I start advertising Warhammer as historically accurate.

I begin filming a "found footage" documentary with some miniatures.
I forge a narrative between forging and narratives.

I applaud you on writing creative yaoi fanfiction.

After playing a large game of 40k, I end with smashing all my opponent's models.

I force you to buy every battleforce and hero in the store, and then curse you in Tzeenchian.

I come in with the book of the Emperor, preaching the word and proclaiming i am Horus come again.

I thank you for forging a narrative between meth and your lungs, before kicking you out of my store.

I start painting models by loading paint pots into a shotgun. It works.

I tell you that the models have toughness 6 and a 2++ save, so your Strength 3 shotgun is useless.

I take a dump on the intro table.