"YOU KILLED FROSTY" screams a young boy in the small group of kids.
"NO I..." Deadpool looks to the ground, and looks back toward the children. "Ok maybe a little."
A random flash of light engulfs Deadpool . When it dims Deadpool looks around to find himself surrounded by color the roar of a giant crowd behind him and sounds of trumpets in the air. He stands behind a green podium with an electronic screen on the front.
A man in a suit with a microphone and glasses standing on the stage in front of Deadpool asks "Ok, Whats…oh I'm sorry what's your name, I-I don't think we gave you a name tag."
"Just call me,…uh, Mr. Hot-and-spicy-butterfingers"
"Alright Mr. Hot-and-spicy-butterfingers?... uh, How much do you think our this washing machine behind me is worth?"
"Honestly Bob,-"
"It's Drew" the host interrupts.
"Whatever, I've gonna have to say…my answer would be… the actually price might be…..the number- ah screw it! I'm gonna say five tacos, one burrito and a chimichanga!"
"What?" I don't think we count that Mr. Hot-" Deadpool's screen lights up with neon tacos, a burrito, and a chimichanga.
"O…k, how about you Beatty?"
Deadpool looks to the right of him to see an elderly woman standing on a red podium with two more constants behind her.
"What was the last price Drew?"
"Five tacos,… one burrito and a,… chimichanga."
"Five Tacos, two burritos and a chimichanga Drew!" the old woman's screen lights up as five tacos, tow burritos and one chimichanga on her podium.
Deadpool looks at the old woman in anger, and then he hears a small voice in the back of his head. "No, Deadpool, you said you would stop killing people for going one dollar more than you on the "Price is Right" after that last job over a popcorn maker." When the voice becomes silent, Drew has finished receiving the constant's guesses.
"Ok, and the actually price is… five Tacos, two burritos and a chimichanga? WHAT THE $%^&?" The elderly woman runs up to the stirs as loud music plays, and the crowd roars with excitement. Deadpool looks at up to the older woman dancing on the stage and talks to himself out loud.
"Then again, I didn't promise myself I would shoot someone who went up one more burrito than me." As Deadpool reaches for his pistol, the bright light appears again. When it dims he looks around to find he is in a dark basement in a circle of teenagers. The room is foggy and the teenagers appear tired and randomly laughing hysterically. The teen with the fro and glasses is the first to speak to him.
"Hey man,…Who are you?
"I was Mr. Hot-and-spicy-butterfingers, until I blinked and was "teleported" here I guess, who are you obviously high teenager?"
The skinniest teenager wearing a sweater asks "Why are you in my basement?"
"Well kids, that reminds me of a story, it's called "none of your business, and hey where is the closest mini golf course, I've REALLY got a hankering to try to smack a ball passed windmill?'" The third teen is a young foreign teenager.
"OH, I Luve a Goud story!"
"Who are you, the supplier?" asks Deadpool.
"No, I am Fez."
"What a minute,…talking snowmen…money guessing game show with Drew Carry instead of Bob Barker…TEENS IN RETRO CLOTHES AND TEE SHIRTS WHILE SMOKING POT WITH A FORGIENER, WHOSE NAME SOUND KINDA LIKE A SPORT'S DRINK IN A BASEMENT?...THERE CAN ONLY BE ON EXPLAINATION!...WHICH I MIGHT ANNOUCE IN PART 3 OF THIS FANFICTION STORY!"
"Seriously, why are in my basement?"
*to be concluded*
