I knew she was trouble from the moment she walked in my door. Yet, here I was, holding her in my arms, surrounded by men who wanted both of us dead. I could hear them pounding at the front door of the house. I had barricaded it but it was only a matter of time before they would break through the door, murder in their eyes. I pulled her closer to me with one hand and drew my .38 with the other hand. As I kissed her, I cursed the day I had met her...

It was a Monday and it was raining. I had been working this private eye job for Odd, my boss. Mostly, I investigated mob hits and kept the cops out of our various businesses. My secretary, Mrs. Butterworth, didn't know how to work the intercom. So she yelled.

"There's a woman here to see you, Mr. Deadpool!"

"Another one?" I mumbled. I pushed the intercom button. "Send her in."

"She's coming in," Mrs. Butterworth shouted.

When she walked in I could feel my life change. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Her long red hair was draped over her perfect shoulders and the green dress she wore left nothing to the imagination.

"My name is Delicia De Morano, but my friends call my Helga. I do so hope we can be friends, Mr. Deadpool."

I gripped my desk and asked, "What seems to be the problem, Helga?"

"It's my husband," she said.

"Damn it," I said.

She looked at me quizzically and I asked, "Is he cheating on you?"

"No," she said. "He's dead."

"Good," I said. "So what's the problem?"

"He stole a lot of money from the Russian mob. They think I have it and they want me dead!" She looked distraught. I stood and walked from behind my desk, took her in my arms, and kissed her.

"I'll take the case. I'll make sure they know that you don't have the money. Then you and I can settle down and start a family." I knew that would please her.

"But I do have the money. All ten million dollars, in hundreds, in the trunk of my car."

"Wait, you left ten million bucks in the trunk of your car?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so."

I grabbed my overcoat, my umbrella, my hat, my rain boots, a copy of the newspaper, my wallet, my gun, three dollars in change, a bus pass, and a picture of my mother, then ran out the door in a hurry. She followed me.

It was still raining when we got outside. Luckily, her car was untouched. "Open the trunk," I told her. She opened the trunk of the Buick to reveal a trunk full of bank bags. I opened one. It was full of hundred dollar bills. Then, a shot rang out.

When I heard the shot, all I could think of was the .38 in my hand, and the bet I placed on the fight, and the warmth of her embrace, and the smell of a new car, and the terrible coffee made by Mrs. Butterworth. Then I shot back, six times.

I hit six different people, just to cover my bases. We got into her car and sped away without further incident. I drove us to my house in the country, where I had planned to hide out until the coast was clear.

"They'll find us," she said.

"Don't be silly. No self-respecting mobster is going to drive all the way out here for a mere ten million dollars."

Then I heard the car roll up. I pushed her down the stairs to the basement, where I knew she'd be safe. In the meantime, I locked the back door and began barricading the front door. Several other cars approached. I ran down to the basement and joined her.

As they started to break down the door, I kissed her again. "I'll be back."

"What are you going to do, Deadpool?"

"I'm going to kill the Russian mob, baby. Then the world will be safer for our eleven children." She swooned and I ran upstairs to my kitchen.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a box of bullets for my .38, seven grenades, and a combat knife. I stuffed five grenades into the crotch of my underwear, put the combat knife in my waist band, stuffed my pockets with bullets, gripped my .38 with my right hand, a grenade in my left hand, and another grenade in my mouth.

"Mrhum n ghet ot, fummer fuzzers!" I attempted to yell as I crashed through the living room window onto the front porch. I shot three of them as they got out of their cars, rolled down into the lawn and shot three more. As I dug six more bullets from my pocket, I pulled the pin on the grenade in my mouth with my tongue and spat it toward another car. It exploded, taking three more of them with it.
I reloaded, threw the other grenade in the air and shot it as it landed in front of another pair of Russians, blowing them to hell. I shot another one in the chest and he fell, dead. I shot another one in the head, and he fell, dead too. I shot a third one in the leg, and he fell, injured. Then I shot him in the head and he was dead, after having fallen earlier, when I shot him in the leg.

I turned to see four men running around back and another three running toward the barn. I reached into my underwear and pulled out three grenades. I pulled the pins on all three and lobbed them in the general direction of the barn, bringing it down and setting it ablaze. My yard ran red with their blood, tangled, mangled body parts scattered about, and I was just getting started. I reloaded the .38 and chased the last four of them around back of my house. They were trying to get in the back door and I started shooting. I hit one, killing him, and then my gun jammed. I threw the gun at a second Russian, hitting him in the head, killing him instantly. The other two turned and stared at me. One ran for it, I grabbed the knife out of my waistband and threw it into his back. The other began to cower on my back porch. I pulled the final two grenades out of my underwear, pulled the pins, and tossed them onto the porch.

Pieces of Russian mobster rained down on the backyard like confetti in a parade. It was over. And now the bad part had begun.

I walked back around the house, to the front door, and Helga was standing there, completely naked.

"Take me Deadpool," she said.

"I can't do that Helga. You see, I know."

"What are you talking about?"

"The money, Helga. It didn't belong to the Russian mob. It belonged to the Boy Scouts of America. And there's not ten million dollars in your trunk, there's ten thousand dollars there, all hard earned from selling popcorn as a fund raiser. If only I had realized before slaughtering all of Troop 156."

"No," she said. "It isn't true."

"If it's not true, then explain this," I said, holding up a merit badge I had picked up off the torso of one of the scout leaders.

She ran out onto the bloodstained lawn to meet me. "We can still have a life, Deadpool. We can take that ten thousand and play the horses, make some real money and start a family. Kiss me!"

So I shot her in the stomach. I turned and walked back to her car and got the ten grand out of the trunk, because I know that she would have wanted me to have it. I used it to buy a new barn.

Intense!

Nice story! Smiles

Nice twist bro

very nice story, funny as hell

Thank you. 

Bows.

No, that's not a stick of dynamite in my pocket...  well, in a way, I suppose it is.  But I am happy to see you.