Deadpool's Deadpool Fanfic: A Deadpool Fanfic by: Deadpool

Deadpool decides to write his own story while waiting for the Deadpool movie to continue production. The problem, he doesn't like to write.


2. The First Draft

     "-out it!" Deadpool suddenly said as the chapter started. At the moment though he was in the middle of writing, in crayon, what he wants in his movie. Knowing Deadpool his story needed violence, sex, and chimichangas. What he wrote that weren't crude drawings were as this:

     'I gos 2 get chiminichanagas wen hot sexy chimichangaga girl is take by Broccoli Man. I HATE BROCCOLI.

     Wolviren cums (hehe cum) butt is powerless to Broccli power. He poops pants and crys like babie.

     I rips Brockli Man nuts and maek him eat it.

     Tehn I eat chimimichngas.

     Fuck Chimnichangana Girl.

Fish Fin'


     "And that's our story?"

  "Yep." he folded his arms behind his head feeling accomplished over his masterpiece of a summer blockbuster. "Just the first draft. Our 'writers' will take care of the rest."

    "Eeeee! I'm so excited about this!"

    "Now we go where the dead go to live." Deadpool took out a beretta M9 and didn't hesitate to shoot himself in the head. He began his journey to the dead, as usual, in complete darkness. Then of course, the light.

      Deadpool woke in the land of the dead in what he could only assume were the Maliboo beachfront on river Styx. He couldn't help goggle and drool over the dead models sun bathing despite there being no sun in the Underworld. He floated towards them in a hypnotic trance with arms out to fondle the lucious melons.

      "Do my rotting knockers not please you anymore my sweet?" he looked up to the voice after starting to motorboat one of the undead beauties. Beheld in front of him was the top mama of the underworld herself, in all her pale skin and slim black dress, Death.


      Death patiently waited arms folded for Deadpool to get out of the hot tangled mess he'd gotten himself into.

      "Not what it looks like. They were coming on to me." he explained as his hand still laid on the breast of one of the bikini girls.

      "I can't blame you Deadypoo." she ran her figer up Deadpool's body from his shlong to his chin sending chills to his spine. "The sirens of Maliboo are irresistible despite having razor sharp labiums."

      "Yikes! Dodged a bullet there."

     Snapping to what little he had of his senses, Deadpool remembered what he came for "Death, babe, I need a favor. I need the best writers down here to help make my movie."

      Out of all the things Deadpool asked of her this had to be the most demanding. People all the time took and demanded people to be resurrected, but they at least had style doing it: tribal dances, sacrificing animals, self mutilation, and playing Led Zeppelin backwards. Simply asking her to bring back the dead was something she could not stand as so many people day in and day out do it. It was just annoying.


      Deadpool decided to take the gloves of (he actually removed a pair of white gloves) and made his saddest puppy dog face yet "Please? For me?" 

     However it was hard to stay mad at him. Deadpool was one of the most understanding people she had met. It also said a lot when she was the one he'd listen to and obey the most considering how much of an insufferable ass he was to everyone else in his seemingly endless life.

      "Fine, but some ground rules."

      "I'll do whatever you want sugar pie." he said with a halo hanging tilted over his head.

      "Only three people can go with you and you have a month for them to write your movie."

      And so Deadpool accepted Death's conditions and picked the men he thought would be perfect to help make his masterpiece. He chose William Shakespeare on the grounds that it was Shakespeare. Shel Silverstein because Deadpool liked the funny pictures in his books. Last he chose M Night Shyamalan's career to be given the task of writing a twist open for a sequel.

      "Well, I'm off. I'll give you a private screening before opening night. For you." he purred rubbing his face upon hers.

      She returned the favor with a peck to the cheek "Don't break your promise." she said as Deadpool's body started to heal back in the world of the living and the underworld faded out of his mind.

      Back in his apartment Deadpool got up from the floor surrounded by blood with his head fully healed. Only this time the Merc found the three writers he brought back with him from Death.

      "That went well, besides almost getting my dick chewed off."

    "One month. Will we be able to finish it by then?"

  "Not unless we believe."

    "Not to worry. We have the greatest writers in the world to help us."

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