Deadpool's Wishful Thinking

Deadpool had been on a routine patrol, slicing and dicing bad guys with his katanas and cracking jokes all the while. But then he stumbled upon something that caught his attention—a small, sleek device that glowed with an otherworldly energy.

"What's this?" Deadpool muttered, picking up the device and examining it. "Looks like a fancy remote control or something."

He pressed a button on the device, and suddenly, holographic text appeared in front of him: "Make one wish, and it shall be granted."

"Whoa," Deadpool said, raising an eyebrow. "A wish-granting remote control? That's pretty cool."

He pondered for a moment, thinking about all the possibilities. He could wish for unlimited tacos or maybe even superpowers that were even more super than his current superpowers.

"I wish..." Deadpool began but then paused. "Nah, this thing is probably too good to be true. It's gotta have some kind of catch."

But curiosity got the better of him, and he couldn't resist making a wish.

"I wish I had... another chimichanga!" Deadpool declared.

In an instant, another chimichanga materialized in his hand.

"Oh ho ho! It works!" Deadpool exclaimed with glee. "Okay, let's try something bigger."

He thought for a moment before grinning mischievously.

"I wish... I was the most handsome guy in the world!"

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light, and when it faded away, Deadpool found himself standing in front of a mirror. He looked exactly the same—scarred face, red-and-black suit—but now there was an award pinned to his chest that read "World's Most Handsome Guy".

"Ha! Take that, Ryan Reynolds!" Deadpool laughed.

But just as he was reveling in his newfound handsomeness (and plotting how to use it to pick up more ladies), the device in his hand beeped, and another holographic message appeared: "Wish granted. But be warned, there is a price to pay."

"A price? What kind of price?" Deadpool asked, frowning.

But before he could ponder this further, he was interrupted by a loud crash from behind him. He turned to see a car had careened off the road and crashed into a lamppost.

"Whoa! That's some bad driving," Deadpool said, rushing over to help.

He pried open the door of the car and found a man inside, unconscious but still breathing.

"Don't worry, buddy. World's Most Handsome Guy is here to save the day!" Deadpool said with a wink.

He pulled the man out of the car just as it exploded in a ball of fire (because of course it did), then quickly administered first aid until an ambulance arrived.

As Deadpool watched the paramedics load the man into the ambulance, he couldn't help but feel a strange mix of pride and guilt.

"I guess being handsome comes with responsibilities too," Deadpool mused. "Maybe I should use my wish for something more important than chimichangas."

He thought for a moment before grinning mischievously once again.

"I wish... I could make everyone in the world laugh!"

In an instant, another blinding flash of light enveloped him, and when it faded away, Deadpool found himself standing in front of an audience at Madison Square Garden. The crowd was roaring with laughter as he regaled them with his trademark jokes and witty banter.

"Thank you! Thank you! You're too kind!" Deadpool said, taking a bow. "But seriously folks—why did the chicken cross the road? To get away from Colonel Sanders!"

The crowd erupted into laughter once again (because apparently they were big fans of poultry humor), and Deadpool couldn't help but feel a warm glow of satisfaction.

"I did it. I made everyone in the world laugh," Deadpool said, grinning from ear to ear. "And you know what? It feels pretty damn good."

But just as he was basking in his comedic glory, the device in his hand beeped once again, and another holographic message appeared: "Wish granted. But be warned, laughter is contagious."

"Uh oh," Deadpool muttered, his grin fading. "That can't be good."

Sure enough, as he looked out at the crowd, he saw that they weren't just laughing—they were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces and clutching their sides as if they were in pain.

"Okay, that's definitely not a normal reaction," Deadpool said, frowning.

But then he noticed something even stranger—the people in the front row were starting to change. Their skin turned pale and their eyes grew sunken and hollow as they continued to laugh uncontrollably.

"Oh no," Deadpool whispered. "They're turning into... zombies?"

Before he could react, the first row of audience members lunged at him with outstretched arms and gaping mouths.

"Whoa! Back off, zombie clowns!" Deadpool said, unsheathing his katanas and slicing through the horde of undead fans (because apparently they were still big fans even in zombie form).

But no matter how many zombies he dispatched, more kept coming. The infection was spreading throughout the crowd like wildfire (or like a really bad case of herpes).

"Okay, this is getting out of hand," Deadpool muttered.

He pressed another button on the device (because apparently there was more than one button), hoping it would undo whatever mess he had gotten himself into.

To his relief (and surprise), the zombies all froze in place. They stopped laughing (and drooling) and stood motionless, like mannequins frozen in mid-lunge.

"Phew. That was close," Deadpool said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Note to self: no more wish-granting devices."

But just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the device in his hand beeped one final time, and another holographic message appeared: "Wish granted. But be warned, there are always consequences."

Before Deadpool could react, there was another blinding flash of light, and when it faded away, he found himself standing alone in the empty arena.

"Great. Just great," Deadpool muttered. "Now I'm stuck with a bunch of frozen zombies."

He sighed and shook his head.

"Well, at least I still have my trusty katanas—and my sense of humor," Deadpool said with a shrug.

And with that, he set off to find some tacos (because apparently even a zombie apocalypse couldn't stop him from craving Mexican food).

THE END