It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. 

Depending on who you are.  For me, it was pretty damn good.  For the stiff on the floor, it was pretty shitty, I suppose.  Three people stared at me, looking for answers.  I stood up and remembered how I had come to this place...

The invitation arrived by hand.  A man in a tuxedo rang the bell, handed me the envelope, and waited for a response.  It was an invitation to the Dead Man's Club, the most exclusive club in Detroit. 

Yeah, the most exclusive club in the Motor City.  To a guy based in Philly, it was like being invited to a foreign embassy and given a medal.  Chances were, you wouldn't understand their accent, and even if you did, you didn't want to eat the food.  The last time I was in Detroit, I had the distinct pleasure of dining at a little place known as Dragon's Rose Chinese Restaurant.  Here's a tip from the field.  If the menu says "beef," you better watch them kill the cow, or you don't know what you're getting.  I seem to remember hearing dogs yelp in the kitchen.

But, I accepted the invitation, just the same.  As far as I knew, the Dead Man's Club had four other members.  After talking to the Oddfather in Philly, I made a call to my old friend Marietta (Martini &) Rossi, Godmother of Detroit.  According to her, it was a legitimate businessman's club, so she, like me, had no idea why I was invited.

I arrived the next day.  The club was a mansion just outside of the Motor City.  I rang the bell and the man who had delivered the invitation to me answered the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Deadpool.  Before you enter, I must ask that you disarm yourself, as I assume that you are carrying at least one weapon."

I smiled and took my .45's out of their holsters and dropped them on the ground.  He stared.  I took the .38 out of my leg holster.  He raised an eyebrow.  I dropped three knives, a retractable club, another pistol and a pack of gum in front of him. 

"You can keep the gum, sir."

"You don't know me, Jeeves.  That gum is a deadly weapon in my expert hands.  What gives?"

"You, sir, have been invited to join the Dead Man's Club.  However, you must first pass the initiation."

"Whoa, Jeeves.  I'm not into that sort of thing.  I like women."

"No, sir.  Your initiation is that you must solve a murder that it about to take place upstairs.  A pretend murder, of course.  If you solve the case correctly, you are a member.  If not... well, let's just say you won't be a member."

He turned and walked up the stairs.  I followed.  We reached a door and he stopped and knocked.  A shot rang out.  Then a scream.  Then the door opened and I flicked the lights on. 

The corpse was on the floor and the three men were grinning.

"So, Deadpool.  Whodunit?"  The man speaking was short and fat, like a pumpkin with legs.

"I'd like to examine the body, if you don't mind."  I knelt beside the corpse.  "He's dead."

They laughed.  "Of course he's "dead".  Now, who killed him?"

"That's what I'd like to know.  Which one of you killed him?"

They looked at me and I raised the head of the corpse and dropped it sharply on the floor.  "Dead.  Extremely dead."

They all looked at each other, shrugged, and looked at me.  "Well, I suppose the question remains the same," said the short fat guy.  "Figure out who killed him, you're in.  And someone else is  out."

"Hmm, interesting."  I examined the body.  "Who has the gun?"  They looked at each other, turned out their pockets, and there wasn't a gun amongst them.

"None of us," said the tall, muscular guy.  "So, I guess none of us shot him."

"Right!  That's because he wasn't shot.  How'd you know that?"  

"What?"

"Nevermind.  Introduce yourselves."

The tall guy with the muscles spoke first.  "I'm Dick Dickerson, Architect."  

The short fat guy was next.  "I'm Peter Peterson, Attorney at Law."

The little creepy guy that hadn't spoken was last.  "I'm John Johnson, Private Detective."

"Then why don't you figure this crap out?"

"It's your initiation."

"Who's the dead guy?"

"That's Doctor James Jameson.  What do you think killed him?"

"Well, offhand, I'd say it was one of you."

"But who fired the shot?  And who got shot?"

I opened the door to the room to reveal the body of the doorman.  "I'm guessing that skippy there decided to play with one of the guns I left with him and he shot himself.  As for the late doctor, I'd guess he was poisoned."

The creepy guy laughed.  "That's right, Deadpool, I poisoned him and I poisoned you all!  The drinks you had were poisoned!  You're all dead!"

The fat man dropped dead.  The muscular man fell to his knees and then on his face.  I stood there, stupefied. 

"Um, John?  I didn't get a drink."

"What?  The doorman was supposed to offer you a drink!"

"I know, right?  Rude son of a bitch.  Took nearly all my guns.  Except this one."  I pulled a .38 out of my underwear.

"Why'd you kill them all, John?"

"I wanted to be president of the club!  Those three bastards never let me participate!"

"You know, you killed all the members, right?"

"Damn it!  Wait, you figured it out, you can be a member!"

"Only if I can be president," I replied.  He screamed and ran at me.  I shot him in the head. 

Surrounded by bodies, I decided to leave Detroit.  I collected my things and left.  

It took a few phone calls, but eventually, I got everything sorted out.  The police report would chalk up the deaths to three homicides, one suicide, and one accidental death.  I got to revel in the irony of the "Dead Man's Club," which was now hilariously accurate.  

lol..hilarious but still mind boggline story..good job deadpool

good stuff! really enjoyable read!

It was a good read thank you

Very interesting my friend, well worth a read.

Very Nice. A Great Read.

nice

very interesting

a great read

mind boggling

will i get in trouble for this?

No, you won't get in trouble.  People might hate you though.

Like me, for instance.  I hate you.

Does that mean auth to shoot?