Post by deadpool on Oct 17, 2006 22:46:18 GMT -5
“Sir... if I may ask, is there anything particularly wrong?” William said, casting a side long glance at the merc-with-a-currently-closed-mouth who was somehow not discomforted by the baking southern sun despite his full leather bodysuit. The prior was driving the classic style limo, and the latter was sort of broodily occupying it's passenger side.
“Whattya mean? I'm recharging my joke banks, that's all.” Deadpool responded absently..
“I doubt that sir. I believe that your bizarre hodgepodge of colloquialistic pop culture references and absurdism has a limitless power supply. Frankly I'm surprised that you've managed to stay as quiet as you have, given everything that went down... but I can specifically tell you exactly when the change happened. Amazingly it wasn't when we were captured by Magneto, and spared only because of the most chaotic supernatural power I've ever laid my mutant eyes upon, or when we had to swim miles back to mainland... no, it was when you received that phone call in Mexico.”
“Ohhhh, yeah, that's right. My Sports Illustrated phone that looks like Terry Bradshaw's head is finally coming in, I'm just all reflective about it because of it's drastic galactic consequences.”
William did not reply, but rather stared forward speaking volumes with his silence.
“Gah, alright. It's Mercy. Her brother is some kinda bad guy, and I think if she doesn't break loose from him she'll get pulled down the wrong path.” Deadpool said, crossing his arms as if indignant toward the fact that he had to reveal so much.
“The wrong path, sir?” William said, now openly staring at the merc. “Do my ears deceive me? Did I just hear the mercenary of mercenaries worried about the life-path of another? I think I may very well be dead.”
“Hey now, have you even read my bio? I'm unaffiliated, William – that means neutral. Not good, not evil, I fall happily in the middle. That's a careful balance, but one that I walk like a tightrope walker covered in first edition copies of Star Wars traversing over Dragon Con. I don't want Mercynary to be a bunny collector, but I don't exactly want her becoming a real a douchebag like me, either.” He stopped suddenly, realizing what he'd said. “I mean... a douchebag like... uhh... Rush Limbaugh. Yeah.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” William said, but he wore a small smile that only deepened the scowl of his boss.
He pulled the car into a convenient store parking lot, ready to ask the attendant for directions to this strange ex-mutant safehouse known only as “Rogue's Place'.” It was an unflattering description if he ever heard one. Why is it that Deadpool consistently led them to places full of rogues? He supposed it was a matter of like on like.
“Oooh, hey, don't forget to grab me an Icee and some honey roasted almonds!” Deadpool said, “Oo! Oo! And some Cracker Jacks. I love the constant disappointment with how insanely useless and retarded the little toy inside is. I mean, you always expect that maybe it'd be something other than the little lick on tattoos, and you're always wrong!”
“Whattya mean? I'm recharging my joke banks, that's all.” Deadpool responded absently..
“I doubt that sir. I believe that your bizarre hodgepodge of colloquialistic pop culture references and absurdism has a limitless power supply. Frankly I'm surprised that you've managed to stay as quiet as you have, given everything that went down... but I can specifically tell you exactly when the change happened. Amazingly it wasn't when we were captured by Magneto, and spared only because of the most chaotic supernatural power I've ever laid my mutant eyes upon, or when we had to swim miles back to mainland... no, it was when you received that phone call in Mexico.”
“Ohhhh, yeah, that's right. My Sports Illustrated phone that looks like Terry Bradshaw's head is finally coming in, I'm just all reflective about it because of it's drastic galactic consequences.”
William did not reply, but rather stared forward speaking volumes with his silence.
“Gah, alright. It's Mercy. Her brother is some kinda bad guy, and I think if she doesn't break loose from him she'll get pulled down the wrong path.” Deadpool said, crossing his arms as if indignant toward the fact that he had to reveal so much.
“The wrong path, sir?” William said, now openly staring at the merc. “Do my ears deceive me? Did I just hear the mercenary of mercenaries worried about the life-path of another? I think I may very well be dead.”
“Hey now, have you even read my bio? I'm unaffiliated, William – that means neutral. Not good, not evil, I fall happily in the middle. That's a careful balance, but one that I walk like a tightrope walker covered in first edition copies of Star Wars traversing over Dragon Con. I don't want Mercynary to be a bunny collector, but I don't exactly want her becoming a real a douchebag like me, either.” He stopped suddenly, realizing what he'd said. “I mean... a douchebag like... uhh... Rush Limbaugh. Yeah.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” William said, but he wore a small smile that only deepened the scowl of his boss.
He pulled the car into a convenient store parking lot, ready to ask the attendant for directions to this strange ex-mutant safehouse known only as “Rogue's Place'.” It was an unflattering description if he ever heard one. Why is it that Deadpool consistently led them to places full of rogues? He supposed it was a matter of like on like.
“Oooh, hey, don't forget to grab me an Icee and some honey roasted almonds!” Deadpool said, “Oo! Oo! And some Cracker Jacks. I love the constant disappointment with how insanely useless and retarded the little toy inside is. I mean, you always expect that maybe it'd be something other than the little lick on tattoos, and you're always wrong!”