|
|
Post by Universe Man on Sept 30, 2009 23:39:14 GMT -5
Midnight, New York City.
It’s late… can’t believe I’m still up. But then, I’ve always been a bit of a night-owl, if you will.
Since I was already out tonight, thought I’d catch a movie. Saw that there was a late-night showing for a new Marvel movie starring someone I really admire…me.
Okay, maybe I’m being a bit egotistical, but hey, if you didn’t think the same, you wouldn’t be reading this, so don’t go buggin’ me for bein’ honest.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the movie…. Just let me sink back into narrative mode here…..
I sit here, watching this movie, (and I gotta tell ya, not nearly enough of me in the first half of it) and before I know it, I’m looking at a terrible atrocity!
An indiscernible (but I’m sure, incredibly long) amount of time later, and the credits start rolling. Very calmly, I stand up, sporting a classy trench-coat and fedora combo. (Didn’t feel like fighting off mobs of hot chicks begging for my autograph on their bosoms tonight…just wanted to…“WHOA WHOA WHOA! HOLD UP JUST A FREAKIN MINUTE! What the hell am I saying?! C’mon, writer-guy, I thought we had an understanding! Deal was I let you write me ONLY if you agree not to screw things up! I’ll let it go this time, but don’t let it happen again!” Where was I? Oh yeah!
This movie’s been out less than 3 weeks (in fanfic time) and I haven’t gotten any work since. This piece’a crap’s ruing my reputation, and that really pisses me off!
I get up from my seat and, ever so calmly, reached into that classy trench-coat I mentioned earlier, and pull out my beautiful little Uzi. Retaining that same, stoic mannerism (with the exception of the maniacal laughter of course) I pump the screen full of lead.
The few people who didn’t leave before the movie was even over scurry on out now. I think I see one guy piss himself, but there’s no time to chuckle about that now. I demand retribution!
Y’see, the movie (and I use that term loosely) that I just got through watching and then blowing the hell out of was a little film called NEM-X SNIGIRO: ENIREVLOW, and it……wait a sec…“Dammit, writer-guy, not this crap again! What am I, Zatanna? She’s not even a Marvel character! Do you want DC to sue us?! I mean C’mon! At least X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” *WINK* “Is a Marvel property! Ah, screw it! I swear though, if you don’t shape up by the end of this issue, writer-guy, you’re fired. I’m f&%$#@* Deadpool; you think there aren’t legions of fans lining up to write for me?! I mean look at you! You’ve dragged out this scene too damn long! Least you could’ve done is thrown in a giant chicken for me to fight to mix things up, but noooooo!” * * * * * * It’s raining. I’m sitting perched outside the lovely home of one Ryan Reynolds, who… “Hey, wait a sec! I wasn’t through busting your balls yet! How dare you skip to the next scene without my permission!? Besides, you skipped too far! How are the readers supposed to know how I got here, much less how I found out where this guy lives? Ah, well, since we’re here, we’ll just move on. Sorry folks, that’s how it is…. Back to the inner-monologue…” I’m waiting outside the home of Ryan Reynolds, the man who played Deadpool in the previously mentioned movie (and I still use that term loosely). His wife (and it still puzzles me how that guy scored Scarlett Johansson) is out of town, so the bastard’s all alone… perfect.
Quietly, I sneak into his house. I make a quick stop in the kitchen, because this guy’s rich and he’s bound to have some good grub.
After my quick post-midnight snack, I head up the stairs.
He’s got a nice place. Lot’s of nice paintings lining the walls of the hallway I’m sneaking down. I reach his bedroom door. Then, ever so gently, I twist the doorknob.
…
…
It’s locked. How f*#&^&% paranoid is this guy!? You’d think he was worried about somebody breaking in on him in the middle of the night and beating the crap out of him for doing a crappy portrayal of them in a multi-million dollar movi….. oh… right…. Eh, screw stealth.
I stand up and kick the door down and flip on the light.
Then, popping up from the bed, Bullseye shoots me in the head. (Hey! “Bed” “head”, that rhymes! I’m a poet, and I totally know it!) *Ahem* Anyway, after I regain my composure… and my blood count, a few seconds later, I get up off the floor. Bullseye is still sitting in the bed, pointing a gun at my… chest. (Hey, I can’t rhyme this whole time! that’d be ridic… he he… “rhyme” “time”… he he…”) *Ahem!*
So, yeah, he’s got the gun pointed at my chest, and I ask the little weasel. “Ryan Reynolds? Why the hell are you dressed like Bullseye?!” “I am Bullseye, you twit! I was hired to kill you… and wait a sec… how in bloody hell do you know who I am?!” “Are you kiddin’ me? I’ve kicked your butt several times throughout my Marvel Comics career!” “Marvel Comics? What the hell are you talking about?” “Oh yeah, I forgot… I’m the only one who can break the fourth-wall…” “Fourth w…. y’know what… never mind…. I think I’ll just shoot you again and…” He aims the gun at me again. It won’t kill me, but damned if it doesn’t hurt like hell… gotta think fast if I wanna keep my ugly mug from getting any uglier…“Wait… before you shoot me!” “Yes, what is it?” He asks, lowering the gun. “At least tell me who hired you before you…. y’know…” The idiot buys it, clearly forgetting I got up the last time he shot me (like 2 minutes ago)… Why’s he being such a moron you ask? I dunno, ask the writer! Now, get off my back and let’s move on…“The only thing I know is the woman I met with had a very large bounty on your head… they want to hurt you bad, Deadpool. I don’t know who you pissed off, but whoever it was, they were the wrong people to cross. Oh, and there’s a reason that movie you saw tonight was produced,” He taunts as he takes aim at my head again.I’m ready for ‘im this time, though!
I dive across the floor, knife drawn, dodging bullets like nobody’s business. The idiot plays right into my hands and actually stands up on the bed, trying to get better aim. I jerk the sheet out from under him as I reach the edge of the bed and watch him go flipping, head-over-heels onto the hardwood floor… ouch…“I jerk the jerk up off the floor and go to work on him. His eyes start to water as my knuckles crack his nose. Think I broke it. Next, I bash my knee right into his nuts. I let him rest for a sec after that, while I regain my composure, and I…” “Who….the hell….hmph….are you… talking to?” he asks me weakly, as if he’d just been hit in the nuts…… Oh… right…“Aww, damn. Was I thinking out loud again? Eh, I blame my writer, he’s new. Now, where was I?” “Please, stop!” His hands go to shielding his privates.
I take away his weapons… both of em… (And by that I mean he had 2 guns! Nunna that Frank Miller, robbing a guy of his junk stuff… I’m not that cruel…… and even if I were, there’s no way I’d touch another guys junk! Yuck!)
I slap him around a bit more. Y’know, shove his face in the toilet, rip off the toilet seat and beat him with it, rip up the toilet and beat him with that, nearly suffocate him with a toilet plunger… Not sure why I love interrogating people with toiletry items, but it’s a heckuva lot of fun! You should try it some time (provided you’re 18 years of age or older, or are accompanied by a parent or legal guardian. Sure, that takes all the fun out of it, but hey, this saves me a lawsuit!)
Anyway, after beating the crap out of Bullseye… literally… (ew), he gives me one last piece of information… the people who want me out of the way made that God-Awful movie to soil my almost-good name, thereby making it pretty damn hard for me to find any work.
I’ve learned everything I can from this prick, so I let him go… after one last swing with the toilet seat…. WHAT?! IT’S FREAKIN’ FUN!* * * * * * It’s morning. I’m in New York City.
After calling in a favor last night, I got a free plane ride back to the Big Apple.
Now, you might think that I’m gonna go hunting for the bastards that’re smearing my good name. But, you couldn’t be more wrong.
See, I answer my door this morning and waiting for me on the other side, are fifteen boxes of Thin Mints! Y’know, the famous Girl Scout cookie!
I try not to question fate when it chooses to bless me with Thin Mints!
Anyway, I sit down in front of the boob tube (he he… I said boob…) and start devouring the Thin Mints like a hungry monkey attacks a banana-split… then it hits me… I run to the bathroom and close the door behind me… An explosion follows…
…
…
No, literally! An explosion rips from my ass the second I sit down on the ol’ porcelain throne!
This is only the second time flames have shot from my ass, and believe me, the first time wasn’t any more fun…
So yeah, in case you haven’t guessed by now, the cookies were laced with explosives… I thought I tasted C4, but I thought they might just be experimenting with the formula a bit… but, guess what?! They weren’t…
So, the real question is, who wants me dead bad enough to booby-trap (he he… booby…) my favorite snack? And who has a deep enough knowledge of me to know that me likey the Thin Mints?
Hmmm…
I hear a knock at the door. Before I can get to it, it breaks in and, on the other side some hot, tall, blond chick with an incredible set of… erm… (Crap, gotta keep this semi-kid-friendly…)… cookware…
…
Did I just say “cookware”? Writer guy!
As I’m about to make a break for the fourth wall and strangle the writer for bad writing, he pulls a trick out of his sleeve…
Suddenly, the hot chick appears in front of me… wearing really tight spandex (so tight), and she drills me in the ‘nads with her knee. And yeah, I may have a healing factor, but that doesn’t mean nut-shots don’t hurt, okay?!
Anyway, I realize that the writer has the upper hand, so I decide to play along… for now.
The babe charges me, pulling out two daggers… at least I think they were daggers… I dunno really, I was distracted by the melons… Seriously, there were two melons sitting on the counter behind her… but, for the record I was staring at her boobs too… just keepin’ it real.
So yeah, while I’m distracted, she drills me in the nads again (what is it with this chick?!) and stabs me square through the chest with what I am certain now is a dagger… hard to mistake it when it’s piercing your flesh, y’know?“Aww, c’mon, baby! We just met, and already you’re breakin’ my heart… well, technically you’re stabbing it, but…” I feel the next knife enter my throat as I try to finish my sentence. It hurts… Bad!
Reflex kicks in (man that took awhile) and I pull out my sidearm to shoot. She kicks it away with a roundhouse before I have a chance.
She may have stabbed me… twice… but I’ve never been more turned on by a chick than I am right now…
Well, that’s not entirely true. See, there was this one time in Vegas when I… erm, y’know what, never mind… I’ll leave that for the director’s cut…
She throws a punch at me. I bob (or is it weave?) and pull the dagger from my throat, grab her by the wrist with one hand and slice through her arm with the knife.
I see wires and sparks as the razor-sharp blade cuts through the androids arm. Then I cut off the head… then something else catches my eye…again.“Damn! Whoever built you knows me too well! Otherwise they wouldn’t have given you such an incredible set of…cookware…Dammit, writer guy, not this *&$% again! Wait… Why the &%&% are you &%*#@$^ censoring me? Keep that up and the audience won’t know what I’m saying. *@^&^#&$& Hey, I didn’t even say anything that time! Alright, I’ll forget it this time, you cheeky little bastard, but I’ll get you back… it may not be this month, or next month, or even in the Christmas special, but I’m gonna fry your ass!” After screaming myself hoarse due to the lack of decent writing, I examine the body of the voluptuous android someone sent to bump me off. Looks like she has a label engraved just inside the collar-area.“Property of the…no… it can’t be them! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! * * * * * * Several hours later, after I regain my composure and stop sucking my thumb, I find the strength to carry on.
It looks like the people I trusted the most have betrayed me… yup, that right… According to the label printed inside the android (and for the record, if you’re going to send an android to assassinate someone, ya might wanna try NOT leave a label anywhere on it, saying who made it…) this hunk of extremely hot junk belongs to the… the… the…
GIRLS SCOUTS OF AMERICA!
(Insert “dun dun duuuuuuun” here)“I can’t believe it… they… they were always such sweet little girls… why do they want me dead?” I ask myself out loud. I’m surprised when I get an answer from someone who’s not me.“Because, you’re late!” That’s the last thing I hear before I feel a violent, electric shock and everything goes black.* * * * * * I wake up in a pitch-black room. My arms and hands are bound. The air is damp. Where the hell am I?
I wait for hours on end, till somebody finally comes in to check on me. As they get closer, I spring at them and snap their neck. I take the keys from their belt and unlock the high-tech bonds they have me in then make a break through base, gunning people down and laughing manically as I do so…
Ok, so that never happened, but it would’ve been cool, right? Man, I really had you dumbasses going! (Whoops… not supposed to insult the fans that way…) Erm, anyway, I’m still sitting in the dark. Can’t see a damn thing either… And I’m a’scared of the dark… I mean, it doesn’t matter how many bullets you pump into it, the darkness never even flinches, man! It’s a beast!
I see a crack of light as someone opens a door leading into what I can now see is a cell. I look down and I see that my arms and legs really are in high-tech shackles… freaky!
This 5’5” firey red-head walks through the door. I wonder if she’s another android…“Are you another android?” I ask her as more lights flick on in the room. “Cuz if you are, and you’re feeling a little less hostile than the last one, I might be willing to break my ‘no androids’ rule just this once, if you catch my meaning.” I wink at her, so she’ll catch my meaning.She slowly walks over, with a gorgeous smile painted across her succulent lips. I stand up as she gets closer, my arms and legs still shackled. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby! But, I’ll need you to unlock these cuffs for me if we’re gonna…” I feel yet another knee drill me in the nads… twice this time! “Ow!” I scream in a high-pitched tone.“You sick, son of a bitch!” She finally says, as I whimper in pain on the ground, curled up in the fetal position. “You’re not here to have a good time. You’re here to pay your debt!” “Debt?” I repeat as the pain subsides. “What the &$*% are you talkin’ about, lady?” She cracks a devious smile. “Did you really think it was an accident that that movie trashed your reputation and cost you contracts? Why do you think we had it made?” My eyes widen. It’s all starting to make sense now.“Now do you get it?” She continues… (Damn, she’s hot!) “Do you understand why you’re here?” Erm, cuz you needed the kind of man you can give you just what you need? (That’s what I think, but not what I say.)“Cuz you want me?” I say, hoping to God I’m right. A slap across the face tells me I’m wrong.“Since you’re an unusually bad guesser, I’ll go ahead and tell you why you’re here, Deadpool. Over a year ago you started ordering large amounts of Thin Mints, and occasionally Tagalongs from the Girl Scout of America.” “Hell yeah, I did! Those cookies are totally rad!” “But, you never paid your bill!” “Wait, that’s not true! I wrote a check for ‘em!” “Yes, and we received your check, Deadpool. But, for one, it was made out for only half the amount due.” “Not my fault you jacked up the price…” “And the other thing is you made it out to the 'gril' scouts of America, you dyslexic buffoon!” “Whoops, my bad… spelling never was my strong suit…” “Well, you’re here because our scientific team is going to dissect you and find out what makes you tick. After they find a way to bypass that healing factor of yours, they’re going to kill you.” “Erm, couldn’t I just write ya an I.O.U.?” “It’s too late for that now. Good day, Deadpool.” She walks out. I stare at her ass til’ she makes it out the door… damn, what I wouldn’t give to… Wait, I smell something… Gas! (Why is this gas affecting me, with my super healing factor you ask? Well, because it’s convenient! This is my book, and we can bend the rules all we want here!)
I see dark figures coming in to collect me as I pass out.
To Be Continued…
|
|
