[1-2] The Tail

[Deadpool]

”Thank God for seatbelts!” Deadpool said, firmly upside-down. ”Funny thing is, I'm actually right-side-up, but that has to do with science and crap. Remember to study, kids.”

He reached over and unbuckled himself from his seat, promptly crashing down onto the floor ceiling of the plane with a hard thump. Picking himself from the floor, he peered forward. Above, flames engulfed entire sections of seats. The plastic armrests that were once used to do exactly what their name implied were now liquifying. The stench was strong; once Deadpool got a whiff of the odor it was all he could smell.


Thick, black smoke rolled along the ceiling floor of the plane, and out where the aircraft broke in two. The break was gnarly. Mangled framework twisted and clashed over the opening in aircraft. It was as if Deadpool stared at the inside of a monster's mouth, with jagged metal as teeth.


His boots clanked against the floor ceiling of the plane as he followed the smoke to daylight. A man cried out for help, but Deadpool didn't give a fuck, and left him to die. ”Sorry dude, you're not an important character,” he said as he maneuvered his way through the planemonster's metal teeth, and out of its mouth.


As he exited the wreckage the smell of burnt plastic slowly faded away, and his nostrils welcomed the scent of sea-salt and seagull shit. It smelled like teen spirit; like if he ventured far enough he would discover some rascals playing hide-and-go-freak, just for the slim opportunity of losing that embarrassing virginity thing; maybe even having a child, which neither of the teens would be capable of raising properly.