Deadpool stood in front of the abandoned PetSmart, the "SEALED BY THE DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH ABNORMALITIES" sign taped haphazardly to the glass doors. His swords clinked against his back as he tilted his head, scanning the eerie storefront.

"Miami," he muttered, hands on his hips. "They said it'd be sunshine and beaches. Not creepy PetSmart. But I need a pet, and Craigslist ads were all scams. Plus, this place screams'adventure!'" He struck a dramatic pose for the empty parking lot.

The automatic doors opened with an unsettlingwhoosh,as if the store itself were inviting him in—or challenging him to leave. Naturally, he accepted.

Deadpool strode through the dimly lit store, whistling theJurassic Parktheme. A faint fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting long shadows across rows of dusty shelves. When he reached Aisle One, the "Common Pets" section, he grinned.

"Oh, boy. Here we go." He read the first tank's label aloud. "'This feels like the obvious solution…'"

Inside the tank was a motionless concrete cat figurine surrounded by a heap of brown waste spilling from a tiny litter box. Deadpool gagged, dramatically leaning over and clutching his stomach.

"Nope. Hard pass. That's more poop than a Taco Tuesday aftermath."

He moved to the next tank. "'Will try to sell you 'cures,' just say no.'" Inside, a mallard wearing a porcelain mask stared at him menacingly. It quacked and raised a scalpel with its wing.

"Okay, who gave the duck a license to practice medicine? Wait, no, I know what you're thinking—'Deadpool, take the duck!' But I don't need competition in the snark department."

He crouched in front of the third habitat, which was a wooden crate sealed shut. The label read, "'He has self-esteem issues.'"

From inside, a faint sobbing echoed. Deadpool rapped lightly on the crate. "Buddy, if you're crying in there because of Twitter trolls, same."

The sobbing stopped briefly, then resumed louder.

"Yikes." Deadpool stood and glanced at the fourth habitat. It contained a common chameleon, though he nearly missed it.

"'Must be antimemetic or something,'" he read. The chameleon flickered its tongue at him. "Cool camouflage skills, but I'm not bringing home someone who's better at hiding than me."

Deadpool rounded the corner, finding himself in the aquatic section. A fishtank containing a shark floating in the air caught his eye. Its snout was bruised.

"'So that's why you can't touch it anymore,'" he muttered. "Did you ram into walls, little buddy? Or did you lose a bar fight?"

The shark snapped its jaws at him. Deadpool tipped his imaginary hat and moved on.

The next habitat was a large fishbowl labeled "'Don't forget to feed the eel this time!'" Deadpool squinted at the bowl.

"Huh. I see nothing." He circled the tank twice, only to find his train of thought slipping away each time. "What was I doing? Oh, right! Pets! Wait, why am I blanking on this one? Conspiracy confirmed: invisible eels."

He skipped to the next habitat: a massive tank containing the bloated corpse of a man in 18th-century formalwear. The stench hit him first.

"'Pretty big tank for a sea slug,'" he read. "Okay, no body-shaming the slug, but also, ew."

The last habitat in the aisle held a VHS tape ofThe Little Mermaid,the tape unspooled. The label read, "'Mrs. Fish.'"

Deadpool tapped the glass. "Hey, Ariel! You look a little flat. Can I call you 'Beta Max?' No? Fine. Moving on."

Deadpool's excitement peaked as he entered the exotic section. "Now we're talking! Cool, weird, maybe slightly dangerous pets."

The first tank was a cardboard box labeled simply "Pet Rock." Inside was a single rock.

Deadpool sighed. "It's dead. I can't emotionally handle losing another pet. Pass."

The next tank contained a black snail oozing corrosive slime. Its label read, "'DO NOT EAT.'"

"Challenge accepted," Deadpool said, licking the glass. His tongue sizzled, and he recoiled, waving his arms. "Nope! I didn't sign up for escargot à la acid."

He moved to a reptile tank labeled "'Reads too much theory, no praxis.'" Inside, a boa constrictor slithered in circles, a severed doll arm glued to its head like a strange hat.

"Ah, a philosophy major," Deadpool quipped. "I don't need my pet explaining Marx to me while I'm watching Netflix."

Finally, he reached a small tank labeled "'Fat Fucking Lizard.'" It was empty except for a few shed scales. He tapped the glass. "Buddy? Did you, uh, lizard-port outta here?"

No response. Deadpool sighed. "Fine. One more aisle to go."

Aisle Four contained only one habitat, sealed behind a triple-padlocked steel door. A small viewport let Deadpool peer inside. The label read, "'There she is!'"

Inside the cage was the back half of a tabby cat, tail twitching lazily. Deadpool blinked.

"It's just… half a cat," he said, leaning closer. "Where's the rest of you, Garfield? Did you dimension-hop mid-snack?"

The cat's tail flicked, and Deadpool gasped. "You're alive?! And sassy? Oh, I'm SOLD."

Deadpool sauntered to the lone open checkout counter, where an old register blinked with a faint green light. There was no cashier.

"Excuse me!" Deadpool called. "I'd like to adopt Half-a-Cat. Can we negotiate a price? Do you take coupons?"

The register emitted a low hum, and a receipt printed itself. Deadpool snatched it up.

"'Congratulations! You've adopted SCP-3790-J-A4. Price: Your sanity.'" He grinned. "Joke's on you—I lost that years ago."

The steel door in Aisle Four unlocked with a sprinted back, scooping up the rear half of the tabby cat. It purred contentedly.

"Who's a good half-kitty?" he cooed. "We'll call it? Because you're just a—ah, forget it."

Deadpool exited the abandoned PetSmart, carrying Catailina in one hand and a bag of "free" pet supplies in the other. As he reached his scooter, he heard a faint quack behind him. He turned to see the masked mallard waddling toward him, scalpel in wing.

"Aw, you missed me already," Deadpool said. "Fine, you can come too. But I'm naming youQuacktor Doom."

With his new companions in tow, Deadpool sped off into the Miami sunset, shouting, "Best. Pet. Day. Ever!"