A/N: Welcome to my 100th fanfic. Thanks for reading this completely insane bit of Deadpool to celebrate.
Deadpool takes his time and sits down leisurely, "There's no need to rush."
Take a deep breath, one of the voices in his head coaches.
Relax, just let it come, the other voice agrees.
Yuck, it stinks in here, pee-ew.
"Should we do a courtesy flush?"
That would go against the entire… um, purpose…? Never mind, I can't remember what I was trying to say.
"I hate when that happens," he says, nodding. "It's very frustrating." He picks up the floral scented deodorizer from the caddy next to the toilet and sprays it around the room.
Now it seems like we crapped on a flower, heheheheheh!
"Now that I've made room, I'm hungry… Taco Bell after this?"
Taco Bell is gross; that food truck on Peter Parker Plaza is better – across from the Daily Bugle.
"I love their salsa de la muerta."
Death is so sexy.
Sexy, sexy death by hot sauce.
No ghost peppers this time; they burn coming and going.
"Speaking of going… are they out of toilet paper?"
Why did we sit down without checking, again?
Don't worry about it, just use one of those fancy monogrammed towels.
"X marks the spot?"
Logan will shish kabob us if he finds out we shit on the school's towels.
"But it will be worth it to see his face!"
Deadpool stands, pulling up his pants, readjusting his belt. He throws the soiled towel into the bowl on top of the present he left just for his favorite psychotic mutant.
He catches sight of his unmasked face in the mirror and can't help but appreciate his visage.
What if he doesn't figure out it was us? I'm sure we're not his only awesome friend.
Cable's not taking credit for our gift!
"An artist always signs his work," he agrees, opening the cabinet and rummaging through until he finds a dark purple lipstick.
Must be Storm's.
How does that asshole get all the girls?
"Well, super healing means super-fast postcoital recovery and all." He uncaps the lipstick, slathers the waxy substance over his lips, then kisses the mirror above the sink. Using the same medium, he writes next to the lip prints: Happy birthday, old man, love your buddy, Wayne.