Hi y'all. Behold my first attempt at fanfiction..it's all no profit. Please
don't sue, for I am poor..and I really don't want my ass kicked by Neil
Diamond!!
However if this does 'do it' for you then please review; go on. there's a cookie in it for ya!
JD.
p.s: for those of us familiar with the Deadpool timeline the below takes place just after Wade killed the global messiah and brought chaos to the universe (groovy!)
#1
New York's rarely quiet, the city that never sleeps was roaring like an insomniac with hemorrhoids. Hardly new but to one particular insomniac the sleep-deprivating bedlam was soothing. Like the kind of soothing only obtained by repeatedly slamming a fridge door on your foot to kill a headache. Wade couldn't sleep. Not that this was new. Following the Mithras debacle sleep had been elusive to the Darkman look-a-like. It isn't every day you stop the human race from entering a new stage of global harmony by killing the new messiah. But on the other hand Wade did get to kick Captain America in the nuts, showing ultimate proof that every cloud is indeed lined with silver.
Monty was crashed out on the rent-a-sofa, and there was nothing in the apartment edible that didn't have fur, fluid or eyestalks growing, leaking or sprouting from it. More to the point Deadpool had watched all the Baywatch re-runs he owned and if something wasn't done soon to alleviate the problem he would be forced to start on the first series of Beverly Hills 90210 (he'd rather have the new messiah).
"Ahhh, Brooklyn's finest. Some might want the earth but me, I'm content to find the nearest 7/11 and eat high-cholesterol, high-fat, high-fivin' chili- dogs until the Ravens call and ask me to play tackle. I mean did you see Siragusa?? His ass is so big it's formed its own coup. And they call it athletics, I ask you?" Deadpool, mouth overflowing like a backed up toilet, marched into the grocery store, grabbed a basket and started chucking things into it from random aisles. Wearing a trench coat and fedora over his usual black/red skintight job (holographic inducer's on the blink) no one batted an eyelid. Well, that is apart from the man at the counter and a drunk passed out in the corner, no one was in the store at half eleven on a Thursday. This was Brooklyn's east side though and the only people out after dark were usually cops, crooks or crazies. It was a hard question figuring out which one of the latter two Wade fell into.
Finishing 'shopping with his eyes shut' Wade brought his basket to the checkout. The guy eyed him up and down slowly. "Ain't Halloween yet y'know".
"I know - my pink bodysuit's at the cleaners. I had the Versarce number laid out but this just screamed at me from the closet. What can you do?"
The guy sighed, he'd seen it all, and had scraped most of it off the sidewalk outside. "Fair enough fella. Just saying is all. Walk around in that get-up round 'ere. Who knows what gonna happen".
Wade didn't need this. He hadn't slept in weeks and receiving fashion tips from a Harry Dean Stanton clone was the last thing he wanted. "Look! I'm wearing a pimp hat and an overcoat big enough to hide a badger in. I doubt it some neighborhood kids are gonna chase me from the block armed with rulers and elastic"!
"Hey dude" said the guy, scanning the twenty-odd items in Deadpool's basket including a pair of bunny slippers and a folding garden chair "I'm just commenting on the social equation. That'll be $35.30".
Deadpool handed over the cash before remembering the thing that had brought him out in the first place, apart from Pamela Anderson frolicking in the surf. Taking a deep breath, "Hey man. Have you got any Neil Diamond?"
The guy looked up at Wade, trying to hide a grin under his sizable upper lip. "Neil Diamond eh? Nah, sorry man. The local octogenarian domino club came by half an hour ago and bought the lot. It was scary how fast those old ladies can move when they're excited. Are you a big fan?"
"It's. er, it's for my roommate". Actually it was, Monty had asked Deadpool to pick him up some Diamond the next time D went out.
"Roommate eh? Ok. Fair enough".
"Really! It is! For my roommate! The guy has no skin, how d'you expect him to have a taste in music"?
"Hey man, whatever you get up to in your own home, it's your own business. Don't feel the need to include me".
Picking up his stuff (including the folding garden chair) Deadpool stormed out of the grocery. Where could he find a Neil Diamond album at midnight. On a Friday too?
Now maybe some of the Mithras experience was still in Wade's memory. Or maybe his boxers were a little too snug, either way one word popped into his badly-wired greymass. 'Manhattan' he thought.
'Manhattan has everything trendy, even David Letterman. Neil Diamond will be easy'. Shoving his newly paid for booty in the trunk of the 'Deadmobile' (actually a stolen '83 Eldorado) Wade pulled out and headed towards the island of the rich and famous (and depraved if you actually believe what is written in the tabloids).
However if this does 'do it' for you then please review; go on. there's a cookie in it for ya!
JD.
p.s: for those of us familiar with the Deadpool timeline the below takes place just after Wade killed the global messiah and brought chaos to the universe (groovy!)
#1
New York's rarely quiet, the city that never sleeps was roaring like an insomniac with hemorrhoids. Hardly new but to one particular insomniac the sleep-deprivating bedlam was soothing. Like the kind of soothing only obtained by repeatedly slamming a fridge door on your foot to kill a headache. Wade couldn't sleep. Not that this was new. Following the Mithras debacle sleep had been elusive to the Darkman look-a-like. It isn't every day you stop the human race from entering a new stage of global harmony by killing the new messiah. But on the other hand Wade did get to kick Captain America in the nuts, showing ultimate proof that every cloud is indeed lined with silver.
Monty was crashed out on the rent-a-sofa, and there was nothing in the apartment edible that didn't have fur, fluid or eyestalks growing, leaking or sprouting from it. More to the point Deadpool had watched all the Baywatch re-runs he owned and if something wasn't done soon to alleviate the problem he would be forced to start on the first series of Beverly Hills 90210 (he'd rather have the new messiah).
"Ahhh, Brooklyn's finest. Some might want the earth but me, I'm content to find the nearest 7/11 and eat high-cholesterol, high-fat, high-fivin' chili- dogs until the Ravens call and ask me to play tackle. I mean did you see Siragusa?? His ass is so big it's formed its own coup. And they call it athletics, I ask you?" Deadpool, mouth overflowing like a backed up toilet, marched into the grocery store, grabbed a basket and started chucking things into it from random aisles. Wearing a trench coat and fedora over his usual black/red skintight job (holographic inducer's on the blink) no one batted an eyelid. Well, that is apart from the man at the counter and a drunk passed out in the corner, no one was in the store at half eleven on a Thursday. This was Brooklyn's east side though and the only people out after dark were usually cops, crooks or crazies. It was a hard question figuring out which one of the latter two Wade fell into.
Finishing 'shopping with his eyes shut' Wade brought his basket to the checkout. The guy eyed him up and down slowly. "Ain't Halloween yet y'know".
"I know - my pink bodysuit's at the cleaners. I had the Versarce number laid out but this just screamed at me from the closet. What can you do?"
The guy sighed, he'd seen it all, and had scraped most of it off the sidewalk outside. "Fair enough fella. Just saying is all. Walk around in that get-up round 'ere. Who knows what gonna happen".
Wade didn't need this. He hadn't slept in weeks and receiving fashion tips from a Harry Dean Stanton clone was the last thing he wanted. "Look! I'm wearing a pimp hat and an overcoat big enough to hide a badger in. I doubt it some neighborhood kids are gonna chase me from the block armed with rulers and elastic"!
"Hey dude" said the guy, scanning the twenty-odd items in Deadpool's basket including a pair of bunny slippers and a folding garden chair "I'm just commenting on the social equation. That'll be $35.30".
Deadpool handed over the cash before remembering the thing that had brought him out in the first place, apart from Pamela Anderson frolicking in the surf. Taking a deep breath, "Hey man. Have you got any Neil Diamond?"
The guy looked up at Wade, trying to hide a grin under his sizable upper lip. "Neil Diamond eh? Nah, sorry man. The local octogenarian domino club came by half an hour ago and bought the lot. It was scary how fast those old ladies can move when they're excited. Are you a big fan?"
"It's. er, it's for my roommate". Actually it was, Monty had asked Deadpool to pick him up some Diamond the next time D went out.
"Roommate eh? Ok. Fair enough".
"Really! It is! For my roommate! The guy has no skin, how d'you expect him to have a taste in music"?
"Hey man, whatever you get up to in your own home, it's your own business. Don't feel the need to include me".
Picking up his stuff (including the folding garden chair) Deadpool stormed out of the grocery. Where could he find a Neil Diamond album at midnight. On a Friday too?
Now maybe some of the Mithras experience was still in Wade's memory. Or maybe his boxers were a little too snug, either way one word popped into his badly-wired greymass. 'Manhattan' he thought.
'Manhattan has everything trendy, even David Letterman. Neil Diamond will be easy'. Shoving his newly paid for booty in the trunk of the 'Deadmobile' (actually a stolen '83 Eldorado) Wade pulled out and headed towards the island of the rich and famous (and depraved if you actually believe what is written in the tabloids).