Hi, everyone, MarcellusMiro66 here!
And your friendly neighborhood Deadpool coming at you live from Fox Studios in Hollywood!
Ugh, typical. Deadpool, you are aware that Fox Studios is closed at this moment? In fact, how did you even get inside?
Well, how did you get in here?
. . .
I have my ways. Listen, this is my story, and I don't want you fucking it up.
Oh! This coming from the guy who's written some less-than-stellar stories including where a young boy whose family accuses him of being a bad luck charm gets some help from those two horny animals from Zootopia? Yeah, really smooth, buddy.
Pfft. At least my mouth wasn't sown shut by a greedy studio executive who wanted money.
. . .
BANG!
Ah, fuck! All right! You win! But no funny tricks!
About fucking time! Okay, for all you FanFiction writers out there...this is how a real story is written!
Our hero sits in the back of a taxi cab, Indian music blaring as he sat still. Noticing a pamphlet for 'Haunted Segway Tours', he takes it up, folds it up, and puts it up...in his pocket. He then plays with the window. He then puts his finger in some gum on the ceiling. He tries flicking it off, but it ends up on the camera lens. He picks it off...before he, after a moment's notice, sticks his head up front, catching the attention of the taxi driver.
"Kinda lonesome back here."
He then begins climbing into the passenger seat, a struggle only accentuated by loud grunts.
"Little help?"
"Sir, I have to keep my hands on the wheel."
"Excuse me."
Our hero finishes climbing into the seat and rights himself, after which the cabbie extends his hand in greeting.
"Baljeet."
"Pool. Dead."
The boy named "Deadpool" and the cab driver named "Baljeet" shake hands before the former notices a picture of a woman on the latter's dashboard.
"Mmm. Nice."
"Smells good, no?"
"Not the Daffodil Daydream." Deadpool shakes his head before gesturing to the photo, "The girl."
"Ah, yes. Ginger is quite lovely. She would have made me a very agreeable wife, but, um… her heart has been stolen by my cousin Pradeep. He is as dishonorable as he is attractive."
Deadpool's ecstatic expression deflates the moment Baljeet announced, but inflates again once a light bulb appeared above his head. "Baljeet...I'm starting to think there's a reason I'm in this cab today."
A confused Baljeet turns to face Deadpool. "Well, yes, sir. You called for it, remember?"
"No, my slender, brown friend." Deadpool laughs as he elaborates, "I'm talking about your quote-unquote "girlfriend". You see, love is a beautiful thing. When you find it, the whole world tastes like Daffodil Daydream."
"Mmm," Baljeet nods in understanding.
"So you gotta hold onto love. Tight!" Deadpool makes a fist while Baljeet copies him.
"And never let go. Don't make the same mistakes I did. Got it?"
To which Baljeet nods, "Yes."
"Or else the whole world tastes like Mama June after hot yoga."
"Sir, what does Miss Mama June taste like?"
"Like two hobos fucking in a shoe filled with piss." Deadpool describes as Baljeet cringes in disgust, "I can go all day, Baljeet. The point is, it's bad."
"Yes, it is bad," Baljeet draws a deep breath, having dodging a bullet just barely. So he decides to conjure up another conversation, "Uh, so...why the fancy red suit, Mr. Pool?"
Deadpool glances at Baljeet before smiling underneath his mask, "Oh, that's because it's Christmas Day, Baljeet. And I'm after someone on my naughty list. I've been waiting one year, three weeks, six days, and oh…" He flashes his My Little Pony watch before continuing, "Fourteen minutes to make him fix what he did to me."
"And what did he do to you?"
Deadpool scoffs, "This shit."
He then lifts up his mask, revealing his horribly scarred face.
"Boo!"
A baldheaded fucker who (surprisingly, considering the movie that served as this story's basis) didn't hail from Britain sits on top of a crate. A helicopter lands a few yards away and some men get off. One in particular (middle-aged with a grey suit) approaches him. The baldheaded shithead stands up and smiles, tapping on a crate.
"They won't disappoint."
"They better not." The middle-aged man said, "What about next month's shipment?"
"There won't be one. You're not the only one with a war to win."
"That won't do."
He frowned and slowly approached the middle-aged man, "See, we've had this small disruption to our supply chain." He then turns on a dime as he grabs the man by the throat and lifts him into the air. "We'd appreciate your patience. We'll deliver in full the following month."
"Okay!"
Satisfied that his message went through, the baldheaded shitfucker drops the man, who chokes a little. "Pleasure doing business with you." He walks away as he gestures his men to leave. The middle-aged man could only sneer in contempt.
"Fucking mutant." His men grabbed the crates as they watched the convoy drive off.
Deadpool began patting down on his costume, as if he was looking for something. He was, shooting a brief glance in the backseat.
"Aw, shit! I forgot my ammo bag!"
"Shall we turn back?
"Nope, no time. Fuck it. I got this. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve bullets, or bust. We're here!"
Baljeet slammed on the breaks. They arrived in the center of a bridge over a highway.
"That's uh, twenty seven fifty."
"... Ah. I never carry a wallet while I'm working. Ruins the lines of my suit."
"Oh."
"But, uh..." Deadpool didn't want to leave Baljeet down, so he improvised. "How about a crisp high-five!"
"Okay."
The high-five. That's it. Well, at least his spirits were lifted to an extent.
"Merry Christmas." Deadpool exited the cab as Baljeet called out to him.
"And a convival Tuesday in April to you too, Mr. Pool!"
("Shoop" – Salt 'n' Pepa)
The scene cuts to him sitting on the side of the bridge, listening to hip-hop music and coloring a picture with crayons before he sings along to the song. We see that the picture he's drawing is him shooting a baldheaded shitfucker in the head (remember him? He's kinda important), whose name we learn is "Francis". He then turns his head to the readers.
"Wha- Oh! Oh, hello. I know, right? Whose balls did I have to fondle to get my very own story on FanFiction? I can't tell you, but it does rhyme with Pullverine. And let me tell you; (In an Australian accent) he's got a nice pair of smooth criminals down under. Anyway, I got places to be, a face to fix, and - oh! Bad guys to kill."
Deadpool spots Francis's convoy...playing an uncharacteristic soft rock/country rock song which he found rather moving.
"Maximum effort."
Deadpool walked off of the side of the bridge, aiming for and landing into one of the cars in the convoy. He proceeded to beat all of the men in the car, sending one flying out the back, and barely holding on. Deadpool laughs at him as one of the men took his head and slammed it into a car seat.
"Rich, corinthian leather."
He punched the man holding him down and snaps his neck. "I'm looking for Francis. Have you seen this man?"
He holds up his crayon drawing. The man repeatedly shoves Deadpool's head into the car radio, changing the channel before it circled back to Juice Newton. He then drew his Glock 17, but Deadpool snatched his wrist and prevented him from firing; when he did, the round hit the driver in the thigh near his crotch area. As the driver screamed out in pain, a motorcyclist pulled up next to the car wielding a Heckler & Koch MP5KA4. He fired into the car indiscriminately, killing everyone but Deadpool and the driver. The former kicked the door open, which flew towards the motorcyclist and sent him flying. The mook holding on to the back of the car starts to pull himself up. As one to do, Deadpool stepped down on the gas pedal hard, crashing into the car in front of them. Placing both of the men in headlocks, he took out the cigarette lighter, brand's one of the men's foreheads, and shoved it into the man's mouth as he screamed, holding his jaw shut.
"I've never said this, but don't swallow."
Another car pulls up beside them. Inside, men are prepared to shoot. Deadpool placed his foot into the steering wheel, causing him to swerve, flip, and crash the car. In front of the car, another motorcyclist pulls up and begins shooting. As the car flips, Deadpool grabs the man on the motorcycle by the waist, pulling him into the spinning wreck in the form of a butt-clenching wedgie. As par the course of a really cool and stylized action movie, everything slows down for a moment. Cue the opening scene of the movie of which this story was based upon that was supposed to be written first but the author was lazy.
("Angel of the Morning" – Juice Newton)
Showing right off the bat the movie is a laugh riot in the form of a Matrix-style "bullet time" pan across a later scene where Deadpool (his ass pressed against a henchman's mouth) is inside a flipping car in an underpass, with the not-so-adequate background music "Angel of the Morning" (right there at the top). Along with the visual in-jokes (a coffee cup reading Chris. S, Lincoln Loud on the cover of Nickelodeon Magazine, and a Last Airbender trading card among others), there are also the spoof credits seemingly written by Deadpool himself:
Paramount Pictures Presents. . .
. . . A Nickelodeon Movies Production. . .
Some Douchebag's Film
Starring. . .
God's Not-So-Perfect Idiot...
... A British Chick...
... A Non-British Villain...
... The Comic Relief...
... A Moody Teen...
... A CGI Character...
... and A Gratuitous Cameo Worth of Mention.
Produced by...Asshats
Written by...the Real Villains Here
Directed by...An Underpaid Tool
Deadpool suddenly stuck out his head out the window before turning to the readers:
"Shit. Did I leave the stove on?"
Everything returns to normal speed: A chain slices the biker's head off, another man is sent flying and smashing into a highway sign (becoming nothing more than a bloody smear), and the bodies fell out of the car. It was only then that the car slid to a stop.