Deadpool sat in his comfy chair by the fire. He was in his mansion, which he could afford because he was rich.
He was intensely reading a story, and was just finished reading the final pages.
"Are you kidding me? Who wrote this crap?" Deadpool tossed the book into the flames. Then, looking up, he saw you.
"Oh, hi there. The name's Deadpool, but he wrote that down earlier. Didn't see ya there." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong. S.H.I.E.L.D. Chronicles 3 was an okay ending to a horrible trilogy. It's like the best episode of Sesame Street. It wasn't worth the wait."
"I mean, look; it was sappy, so you have that issue. But what got me was the humor. It wasn't even funny! It was like I was reading something by someone who hasn't even consumed a single Deadpool-branded property. The utter gall.
Well, kudos to Alexa Ann Douglas for at least recognizing that I was too awesome to exclude from the TSU. This is the part where I'd curtsy, but I'm heterosexual, so I guess straight white male privilege strikes again. At least it was a little enjoyable, unlike Dark & Brooding Hacker Man. That was just boring.
Anyways, I figured that you deserve something better than a Deadpool cameo. You deserve full Deadpool, unfiltered and unchained. The wild, pure Deadpool you guys really want. Let me tell you the story of what really happened after I told Goodie Two Shoes I'd be better."
P.S. "That's not actually unchained, is it? No? Whatever, let's roll with it. A keyboard with a backspace button isn't in our budget."
He picked up a chalice and lifted it to his lips. The drink dribbled down his mask, falling on his chest and lap. "Ah. Don't worry. This is ale is very ginger." He put the cup down. "I didn't get to enjoy any of that." He sighed.