You could collect the leaflets, then track down the distributor and bludgeon the manager until unconscious, dragging his lifeless torso to his home, where you will then tie up and gag his wife and children, listening to their muffled screams as you pile thousands upon thousands of pamphlets, leaflets and fliers around them in a circular wall 7 feet high, singing nursery rhymes to yourself as you do and staring wonderingly into their tear soaked eyes. Then you can laugh menacingly as you drop a single match onto the pile, the smoke the fire creates waking the manager, just in time to watch his family scream at the flames engulfing them, and you, walking calmly out of the burning house, knowing that this act has made you even with the wretched man and his unforgivable deeds.
Or you know, you could put it in the bin.
