Welcome again to the fifth instalment (and I assure you the end is nowhere in sight) of my Funhouse series. In this story you'll see Deapool take on the single most evil force on this planet... One Direction! So here we go, the event of the Century.
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Deadpool sits waiting in a bush outside a hotel. One Direction are staying in this hotel and they eon't be leaving their rooms for fear of an assassin taking them out. They're heavily guarded due to Taylor Swift's recent threats.
Deadpool: I need some advice, guys.
Immature Deadpool: Dude, just scale the building! The sons haven't thought o' that.
Deadpool: Hmmm... It's good, but I don't think I brought a grappling hook.
Rational Deadpool: And the one time you need it, too.
Deadpool looks around. A nearby telephone pole leans surprisingly close to his target's balcony.
Deadpool: Found one!
He runs over and begins climbing.
Deadpool: *whistles* Oh, maybe I should get their autographs, then kill 'em. That way I can sell the autographs on eBay for millions!
Immature Deadpool: That's the best thing you've ever thought of!
Deadpool: Thanks!
He reaches the top of the pole and leaps across to the balcony.
Deadpool: I'm a [frick]in' ballerina when I wanna be.
He pulls a rifle off his back and sneaks inside.
Rational Deadpool: Odd, the back door just being open like that.
He hears voices up ahead, he prepares to shoot. They remain where they are. Deadpool turns a corner into the kitchen. They're in the living room beside him. He cocks the rifle and heads on in.
Deadpool: Freeze, mother[frick]ers!
They all raise their hands. Deadpool steadies the gun.
Deadpool: Don't try anything funny! I want you to get me a pen and a piece of paper. Now!
The Irish one runs off to get a pen and paper.
The Indian looking one: Why are you doing this?
Deadpool: Main reason: I'm being paid to. Second reason: it's fun.
The Irish one returns with the pen and paper. He goes to hand it to Deadpool
Deadpool: Oh no, you keep that. I want all you little bitches to write your names on that paper.
The bald one: Are you serious? You want our autographs and you're holding us at gunpoint.
Deadpool: Hey, all I want is money! And soon, these are gonna be worth millions. Chop chop.
The group write their names on the paper and hand it back to Deadpool. He tucks it in his pocket.
Immature Deadpool: Y'know what'd be worth even more?
Deadpool: What?
Immature Deadpool: A picture.
Deadpool: Ooooh, yeah that would fetch a good price! You, with the weird haircut and the effeminate face! Go get a camera!
The girly (and lets face it obviously gay) one pulls a camera from his pocket and hands it to Deadpool.
Deadpool: How d'you set the timer?
The girly one: You just, uh--
Deadpool: Nah, I got it.
He places the camera on the counter in the kitchen and runs to the back of the living room.
Deadpool: Smile, boys!
The picture is taken. Deadpool fetches the camera and places it in one of the many puches on his costume.
Deadpool: Well, you guys better not be allergic to bullets, it'll just make the next few seconds a bit more painful. Blam, blam, blam, blamblamblamblam!!!
Blood sprays all over the living room as the boy band's bodies are riddled with bullets. After several seconds Deadpool decides to stop.
Deadpool: That is the fifth most pleasurable thing I have ever experienced.
He pulls out his cell phone and dials Bob's number.
*ring ring* *ring rin--*
Bob: You done already? That was alot quicker than I thought.
Deadpool: Quit blabbin' Bobbo! Arrange a meeting with that Swift bitch. I want my money.
Bob: Sure thing Mr. Wilson. Just gimme a minute.
Within 2 hours a meeting is arranged in an abondoned warehouse. Deadpool got there first and had to wait for the client to arrive (as is ususlly the case with women).
Deadpool: Money, now.
Swift: I just want to say, I can't thank you enough for this.
Deadpool: Money...
She slides him a briefcase. He checks the contents.
Deadpool: Seems legit. Oh, I wanna give you a gift! 'Cause that was pretty fulfilling.
He hands her a small parcel.
Deadpool: Don't open it 'til I'm gone okay?
Swift: Uh, okay sure... Thanks.
Deadpool: I'll seeya around, blondie.
He leaves the warehouse while humming a Taylor Swift song.
She opens the parcel. KABLOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!! The entire warehouse goes up in flames. A huge cloud of smoke rises into the New York skyline.
Deadpool: *singing* 'Cause youhoo will never, ever, ever, be put back together!
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Double whammy with that one. I hope you folks enjoyed the deaths of One Direction and Taylor Swift. I'm running low on ideas but here are some more I'm considering, feel free to leave your own suggestions.
1. Rocket's Day Off
2. Thanos has a migraine
3. Daredevil goes for a holiday
Like I said, I'll gladly write any of your suggestions. Also, thanks to MrSundayNight for suggesting this. Until next time, fellas!
About The Author:
I overthink pretty much anything to do with the MCU, but hey, we're allowed to speculate on these sorts of things right?