Bloated Blimp in a Blini Bikini, It Stinks in Here!!!
Greetings, my bouncy blancmanges! How’s the air out there?
Me, I wouldn’t know, ‘cause I’m stuck at the Agency again, and the air in here is fetid. Why, you might ask? WELL I’LL TELL YOU.
See, yesterday Agent X went on a new food kick, and all he would eat were cinnamon pita chips and strawberry applesauce. Together. Yeah, I don’t know either, but he kept stuffing his face and mumbling, “Stacy is my new best friend," and junk like that.
So who knew, but those chips, if you eat enough of ‘em, can cause “bloating, gas, constipation, and loud annoying monologues.” Seriously, the warning is right there on the bag and everything, but of course Orca X couldn’t be bothered to read. And now he’s eaten 57 bags, and he looks even more like the Goodyear Blimp than usual and is spouting the most depressing parts of Hamlet in between groans and ramblings about the inner workings of the TV he rewired last week (not that he even did it right - everything is blue now, and for some reason Kirby keeps running across the screen!). Oh, and did I mention the Most Important Part? He’s stuck in the door, and not even the combined might of me, Outlaw, and Sandi can get him out. I guess we just have to either slice right through him (I’m game, but you know Sandi and keeping the carpets clean) or wait until he - heh - loses some hot air.
So, um...making the best of a stinky situation, it’s...LETTER TIME!!! (Good thing we didn’t let him try to re-wire the internet cables.)
Let’s see here...Ah! From one of the bags of mail that is not currently under Agent Orca’s ass,
foresthouse writes:
Dear Deadpool:
I think you are completely awesome. I wish I could come and work at the Agency with you, but I don’t have a healing factor or much luck with guns so I’d probably just get killed or something. So instead, I decided to make some wallpapers so I could see you everyday anyway. Oh, and also I made some icons of you awhile back, because I love you soooo much. Can I share?
The icons are here, and the wallpapers are here, here, and here.
I hope you like them!
Emily
P.S. ♥ ♥ ♥
Well, Emster, I’m always in favor of my lovable mask being plastered all over walls, computers, and shirts that will be worn by girls with big...intellects, so hey, sharing is A-OK with me! And some of those icons are pretty cool, although of course it’s mostly that my general badassitude just shines through and makes anything with me in it better. As for the wallpapers, well, I like the first one, anyway. I don’t know about all that “Best Friends” crap, though - I mean, didn’t you even READ the last part of the Cable & Deadpool run? Marvel publishes those things for a reason, and it’s so mooks like you know what’s going on in the lives of Amazing Superheroes like me. So, you know, get with the program! Those wallpapers with Cable in them are so outdated they kind of make me tear up. From the agony of your outdatedness, of course. But hey, no hard feelings. If you want to make some more that feature me with hot redheads or possibly Marvel Girl, I’ll wholeheartedly approve.
Now, what else have we got here? Ah-ha! From under last week’s tuna fish sandwich, a letter from amejisuto, who asks:
Dear Deadpool,
Who are the top five bad guys you'd like to smash their face in. Any bad guys, or girls, RL, Marvel, DC and otherwise.
Later dayz!
Ame
Oh, now, that’s not fair. I have to narrow it down to five? Well, ok. I guess if I hafta. Here goes!
1. Well, I would say that creepy mook Osama bin Laden, but, you know, the last time I iced a terrorist, everybody yelled at me. What. the. hell? And then I had to pack up and skedaddle, and ended up being sorta brainwashed, and MAN, that was just a bad idea all around. Although I guess I did get to eat some good six-legged chicken because of it. Indirectly. Or something. Anyway, you know what? Screw the yelling, if you believe the government (and who doesn’t believe the government, I mean, they wouldn’t lie to us, right??) he’s the dumb freak responsible for ruining my favorite panoramic skyline, AND I’m tired of hearing about him, so yeah, even with the yelling, I’d still love to pop that creep. Hard.
2. A certain someone we all know named Daniel. I mean, Pool-o-vision? What the eff is THAT? I may be psychotic, but I’m not crazy. And I DON’T DRIFT. I don’t even know what drifting means, unless we’re talking Tokyo Drift, here, but I don’t think we are. Anyway, it’s not like I want him laid out on a slab or nothin’, but maybe if I just, y’know, roughed ‘im up a bit Marvel’d get the hint and get Fabian or Gail back on the job, and we’d all have a rollicking good time. Which prob’ly isn’t gonna happen if we’re stuck with ol’ Danny-boy. With him, we’ll probably get a few lame issues and a cancellation, and then it’s goodbye, celebrity status and hot babes that always come with the solo runs. Isn’t that just my luck? Damn Daniel. (Paco, though, now, Paco’s my MAN. He’s a sweet sketcher, he is. Makes me look badass.)
3. Cab-oh, wait, I was cured of that one, wasn’t I? Huh, well then...Deathstroke? Yeah, Deathstroke. How dare that poufy-legwarmer-wearing wishy-washy merc try to steal my thunder by dressing kinda like me and having a healing factor and saying he was there first? AS IF he could ever be as awesome as me, similar costumes aside. The very suggestion that I did a copycat routine on him is ridiculous. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve DONE Copycat. And she was a BABE (miss you, ‘Ness!). But I sure’s hell didn’t copy that lame, be-eyepatched, full-head-of-hair-esque Deathstroke dude. So, yeah, just let me at ‘im (crossover, ahoy!) and I’ll slice-n-dice my way right through his silly, staff-toting ass.
4. Whoever the hell came up with vegetarianism. I mean, what the heck is that all about? We got pointy canines for a reason, folks, and if cows weren’t meant to be eaten, they would look more like fluffy little chinchillas or somethin’. I mean, yeah, you eat a chinchilla, I’ll gut your stupid self for harming one of this smelly world’s cutest little critters ever. But a cow? What’s a cow? Bad breath, big ugly teeth, and a bellyful’a cud. (Ew.) So Angus burgers are A-OK with me! (And speakin’ of Angus burgers, y’know I think the vegetarians are actually behind that whole campaign. I think they figure if you know the poor bull’s name was Angus, you won’t want to eat ‘im. You’ll think, “Oh, poor Angus, a bull bifurcated before his time! His poor cow wife Molly and calf kids Alice, Annie, and Arnold are so sad. Look at them, with their big cow eyes, beseeching us: ‘Why did you take our Angus??’” But I say, if he didn’t want to be eaten, he shouldn’t have gotten so fat that we still haven’t run out of burgers made out of ‘im. Sorry, Angus, but you can’t argue with that logic.)
5. Michael Jackson. Sure, he did some great stuff back in the day. I won’t deny I’ve had a listen now and then. But man, that dude freaks me out so much, and after that one South Park episode where his nose fell off and his face started melting, I keep having nightmares that he’s tryin’ ta eat me ‘n’ stuff. These days, seein’ his ugly plasticized mug creeps me out more than pictures of bald Britney Spears. I keep expecting next time he shows up on the news he’ll have MADE IN CHINA stamped on his forehead. And...Heh. You know? Actually? That'd be pretty frickin’ hilarious. But still. Yeah. Dude is freakin’ weird.
OK, one more for today, before we start tryin’ to knock a hole through this brick wall to let in some fresh air. Uhhh...ah! Here’s one.
lady_sith writes:
Dear Deadpool,
1) I'm aspiring to be a mad scientist and I'd like your input on what you think my first evil deed should be? I know world domination is the goal you're supposed to aim for but I thought I should start with something a bit more low key and get some practice first. Any ideas?
2) Further to the above, would you be amenable to being kidnapped and subject to perverse sexual tortures in the name of science?I'm free all week.
3) You spend a lot of time defending your heterosexuality, but if you had to have sex with a man, any man, who would it be?
4) Have you ever been to Australia? You really should come down here sometime, we could use the excitement.
OMG, numbered questions! YAY. OK, I’ll take these one at a time:
1) Well, I wouldn’t have suggested world domination, anyway, m’lady. Because really, what do you do with the world once you’ve dominated it? I mean, sure, you’ve got all the food and treasure and stuff you might want at your fingertips, or somethin’ like that, but sooner or later the unions are gonna form up into a Super-Union and be whinin’ in your face about your newly-conquered slaves needing bathroom breaks, and the rebels (there’s always gonna be rebels) are gonna start stealing ammo to off you with while they’re working in your munitions factory for one grain of corn a day, and you’ll fall for some chick (or dude, maybe, in your case?) who starts carpin’ at you about how world dominators should be giving them more diamonds and fancy cars because if you can’t do that, what’s the use of ownin’ the world, and man, it’ll just be one big headache, I tell ya what. So definitely start small, with something you really, really want, but most people might think you shouldn’t have. Like, you know, using mad scientist skillz with explosives and junk to take over Marvel headquarters so you can put whoever YOU want on whatever series YOU like, cancel all the *%@( you think is dumb, and hang a gigantic blown-up photo of yours truly in the lobby. Yeah. That’d be an awesome start to your mad scientist career. GO FOR IT.
2) Perverse sexual tortures, huh? Depends. How cute are you? Ah, who’m I kiddin? You could be 82 years old and I’d still say HELLZ YEAH. (P.S. especially if you looked like the 82-year-old women on a certain show we all know and love.) Call me, babe.
3) Oh, here we go again. OK, OK, I’ll answer this once, JUST THIS ONCE, but it’s only because I promised to answer all the questions and stuff and I can’t break a promise, now, can I? I know you mooks all think I’m gonna say Cable, because some stupid dork out there decided to write some stupid stuff that maybe, somehow, slightly implies that would be the case, but I’m totally not going to say him. I’m going to say...this dude. I mean, COME ON. Brilliant, rich, smokin’ hot, and fun to throw down with (and I do mean throw down with) from all I’ve heard. AND he’s got a Bat-pod. A BAT-POD. No one can even ride that thing, that’s how badass it is. So, yeah, if Batman propositioned me, well...I’m not sayin’ I’d say yes, but...um...NEXT ANSWER.
4) Y’know, I haven’t, but Mitch Hedberg liked Australian things, so it’s got to be a cool place, right? I mean, Mitch said koalas are the cutest infestation ever, or something like that, so I’d be game to come on over and see a few. Unfortunately, until we get some more jobs here at the Agency, we’re a little short on recreational funds (well, unless you count practice down at the shooting range as recreation, WHICH I DO, but, y’know. Big trips are pretty much out unless someone in Australia hires me and flies me on over.) You lookin’ for any merc werc done cheap?
WHEW. That’s all for now, my brave blinis. It is getting gross in here, so I’m gonna go carve me a window right now, whether Sandi whines about the carpets or NOT.
Until next time, keep ‘em oiled and ready!
Me, I wouldn’t know, ‘cause I’m stuck at the Agency again, and the air in here is fetid. Why, you might ask? WELL I’LL TELL YOU.
See, yesterday Agent X went on a new food kick, and all he would eat were cinnamon pita chips and strawberry applesauce. Together. Yeah, I don’t know either, but he kept stuffing his face and mumbling, “Stacy is my new best friend," and junk like that.
So who knew, but those chips, if you eat enough of ‘em, can cause “bloating, gas, constipation, and loud annoying monologues.” Seriously, the warning is right there on the bag and everything, but of course Orca X couldn’t be bothered to read. And now he’s eaten 57 bags, and he looks even more like the Goodyear Blimp than usual and is spouting the most depressing parts of Hamlet in between groans and ramblings about the inner workings of the TV he rewired last week (not that he even did it right - everything is blue now, and for some reason Kirby keeps running across the screen!). Oh, and did I mention the Most Important Part? He’s stuck in the door, and not even the combined might of me, Outlaw, and Sandi can get him out. I guess we just have to either slice right through him (I’m game, but you know Sandi and keeping the carpets clean) or wait until he - heh - loses some hot air.
So, um...making the best of a stinky situation, it’s...LETTER TIME!!! (Good thing we didn’t let him try to re-wire the internet cables.)
Let’s see here...Ah! From one of the bags of mail that is not currently under Agent Orca’s ass,
foresthouse writes:
Dear Deadpool:
I think you are completely awesome. I wish I could come and work at the Agency with you, but I don’t have a healing factor or much luck with guns so I’d probably just get killed or something. So instead, I decided to make some wallpapers so I could see you everyday anyway. Oh, and also I made some icons of you awhile back, because I love you soooo much. Can I share?
The icons are here, and the wallpapers are here, here, and here.
I hope you like them!
Emily
P.S. ♥ ♥ ♥
Well, Emster, I’m always in favor of my lovable mask being plastered all over walls, computers, and shirts that will be worn by girls with big...intellects, so hey, sharing is A-OK with me! And some of those icons are pretty cool, although of course it’s mostly that my general badassitude just shines through and makes anything with me in it better. As for the wallpapers, well, I like the first one, anyway. I don’t know about all that “Best Friends” crap, though - I mean, didn’t you even READ the last part of the Cable & Deadpool run? Marvel publishes those things for a reason, and it’s so mooks like you know what’s going on in the lives of Amazing Superheroes like me. So, you know, get with the program! Those wallpapers with Cable in them are so outdated they kind of make me tear up. From the agony of your outdatedness, of course. But hey, no hard feelings. If you want to make some more that feature me with hot redheads or possibly Marvel Girl, I’ll wholeheartedly approve.
Now, what else have we got here? Ah-ha! From under last week’s tuna fish sandwich, a letter from amejisuto, who asks:
Dear Deadpool,
Who are the top five bad guys you'd like to smash their face in. Any bad guys, or girls, RL, Marvel, DC and otherwise.
Later dayz!
Ame
Oh, now, that’s not fair. I have to narrow it down to five? Well, ok. I guess if I hafta. Here goes!
1. Well, I would say that creepy mook Osama bin Laden, but, you know, the last time I iced a terrorist, everybody yelled at me. What. the. hell? And then I had to pack up and skedaddle, and ended up being sorta brainwashed, and MAN, that was just a bad idea all around. Although I guess I did get to eat some good six-legged chicken because of it. Indirectly. Or something. Anyway, you know what? Screw the yelling, if you believe the government (and who doesn’t believe the government, I mean, they wouldn’t lie to us, right??) he’s the dumb freak responsible for ruining my favorite panoramic skyline, AND I’m tired of hearing about him, so yeah, even with the yelling, I’d still love to pop that creep. Hard.
2. A certain someone we all know named Daniel. I mean, Pool-o-vision? What the eff is THAT? I may be psychotic, but I’m not crazy. And I DON’T DRIFT. I don’t even know what drifting means, unless we’re talking Tokyo Drift, here, but I don’t think we are. Anyway, it’s not like I want him laid out on a slab or nothin’, but maybe if I just, y’know, roughed ‘im up a bit Marvel’d get the hint and get Fabian or Gail back on the job, and we’d all have a rollicking good time. Which prob’ly isn’t gonna happen if we’re stuck with ol’ Danny-boy. With him, we’ll probably get a few lame issues and a cancellation, and then it’s goodbye, celebrity status and hot babes that always come with the solo runs. Isn’t that just my luck? Damn Daniel. (Paco, though, now, Paco’s my MAN. He’s a sweet sketcher, he is. Makes me look badass.)
3. Cab-oh, wait, I was cured of that one, wasn’t I? Huh, well then...Deathstroke? Yeah, Deathstroke. How dare that poufy-legwarmer-wearing wishy-washy merc try to steal my thunder by dressing kinda like me and having a healing factor and saying he was there first? AS IF he could ever be as awesome as me, similar costumes aside. The very suggestion that I did a copycat routine on him is ridiculous. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve DONE Copycat. And she was a BABE (miss you, ‘Ness!). But I sure’s hell didn’t copy that lame, be-eyepatched, full-head-of-hair-esque Deathstroke dude. So, yeah, just let me at ‘im (crossover, ahoy!) and I’ll slice-n-dice my way right through his silly, staff-toting ass.
4. Whoever the hell came up with vegetarianism. I mean, what the heck is that all about? We got pointy canines for a reason, folks, and if cows weren’t meant to be eaten, they would look more like fluffy little chinchillas or somethin’. I mean, yeah, you eat a chinchilla, I’ll gut your stupid self for harming one of this smelly world’s cutest little critters ever. But a cow? What’s a cow? Bad breath, big ugly teeth, and a bellyful’a cud. (Ew.) So Angus burgers are A-OK with me! (And speakin’ of Angus burgers, y’know I think the vegetarians are actually behind that whole campaign. I think they figure if you know the poor bull’s name was Angus, you won’t want to eat ‘im. You’ll think, “Oh, poor Angus, a bull bifurcated before his time! His poor cow wife Molly and calf kids Alice, Annie, and Arnold are so sad. Look at them, with their big cow eyes, beseeching us: ‘Why did you take our Angus??’” But I say, if he didn’t want to be eaten, he shouldn’t have gotten so fat that we still haven’t run out of burgers made out of ‘im. Sorry, Angus, but you can’t argue with that logic.)
5. Michael Jackson. Sure, he did some great stuff back in the day. I won’t deny I’ve had a listen now and then. But man, that dude freaks me out so much, and after that one South Park episode where his nose fell off and his face started melting, I keep having nightmares that he’s tryin’ ta eat me ‘n’ stuff. These days, seein’ his ugly plasticized mug creeps me out more than pictures of bald Britney Spears. I keep expecting next time he shows up on the news he’ll have MADE IN CHINA stamped on his forehead. And...Heh. You know? Actually? That'd be pretty frickin’ hilarious. But still. Yeah. Dude is freakin’ weird.
OK, one more for today, before we start tryin’ to knock a hole through this brick wall to let in some fresh air. Uhhh...ah! Here’s one.
lady_sith writes:
Dear Deadpool,
1) I'm aspiring to be a mad scientist and I'd like your input on what you think my first evil deed should be? I know world domination is the goal you're supposed to aim for but I thought I should start with something a bit more low key and get some practice first. Any ideas?
2) Further to the above, would you be amenable to being kidnapped and subject to perverse sexual tortures in the name of science?I'm free all week.
3) You spend a lot of time defending your heterosexuality, but if you had to have sex with a man, any man, who would it be?
4) Have you ever been to Australia? You really should come down here sometime, we could use the excitement.
OMG, numbered questions! YAY. OK, I’ll take these one at a time:
1) Well, I wouldn’t have suggested world domination, anyway, m’lady. Because really, what do you do with the world once you’ve dominated it? I mean, sure, you’ve got all the food and treasure and stuff you might want at your fingertips, or somethin’ like that, but sooner or later the unions are gonna form up into a Super-Union and be whinin’ in your face about your newly-conquered slaves needing bathroom breaks, and the rebels (there’s always gonna be rebels) are gonna start stealing ammo to off you with while they’re working in your munitions factory for one grain of corn a day, and you’ll fall for some chick (or dude, maybe, in your case?) who starts carpin’ at you about how world dominators should be giving them more diamonds and fancy cars because if you can’t do that, what’s the use of ownin’ the world, and man, it’ll just be one big headache, I tell ya what. So definitely start small, with something you really, really want, but most people might think you shouldn’t have. Like, you know, using mad scientist skillz with explosives and junk to take over Marvel headquarters so you can put whoever YOU want on whatever series YOU like, cancel all the *%@( you think is dumb, and hang a gigantic blown-up photo of yours truly in the lobby. Yeah. That’d be an awesome start to your mad scientist career. GO FOR IT.
2) Perverse sexual tortures, huh? Depends. How cute are you? Ah, who’m I kiddin? You could be 82 years old and I’d still say HELLZ YEAH. (P.S. especially if you looked like the 82-year-old women on a certain show we all know and love.) Call me, babe.
3) Oh, here we go again. OK, OK, I’ll answer this once, JUST THIS ONCE, but it’s only because I promised to answer all the questions and stuff and I can’t break a promise, now, can I? I know you mooks all think I’m gonna say Cable, because some stupid dork out there decided to write some stupid stuff that maybe, somehow, slightly implies that would be the case, but I’m totally not going to say him. I’m going to say...this dude. I mean, COME ON. Brilliant, rich, smokin’ hot, and fun to throw down with (and I do mean throw down with) from all I’ve heard. AND he’s got a Bat-pod. A BAT-POD. No one can even ride that thing, that’s how badass it is. So, yeah, if Batman propositioned me, well...I’m not sayin’ I’d say yes, but...um...NEXT ANSWER.
4) Y’know, I haven’t, but Mitch Hedberg liked Australian things, so it’s got to be a cool place, right? I mean, Mitch said koalas are the cutest infestation ever, or something like that, so I’d be game to come on over and see a few. Unfortunately, until we get some more jobs here at the Agency, we’re a little short on recreational funds (well, unless you count practice down at the shooting range as recreation, WHICH I DO, but, y’know. Big trips are pretty much out unless someone in Australia hires me and flies me on over.) You lookin’ for any merc werc done cheap?
WHEW. That’s all for now, my brave blinis. It is getting gross in here, so I’m gonna go carve me a window right now, whether Sandi whines about the carpets or NOT.
Until next time, keep ‘em oiled and ready!