So you’re probably reading this and thinking, who the fuck is this ass hole? Well, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Alex Roman, a millionaire player. I get all the girls and guys I want when I want. Why? Because I’m rich and your not, dipshit.

My life was going perfect. I had everything I wanted! Hookers, money... more hookers. You know? Classy shit like that. But then that fucking ass hole took all that shit away. I was making an honest living!

What right does he have telling me that you can’t sell crack to junked up celebrities? Am I right? Of course I am.

Anyway, there I stood, face-to-face with that princess of Marvel, Deadpool. A gun was clutched in his hand as his face was painted in the blood of my security guard.

I mean rather him then me right?

But what was he coming after me for? I had nothing of interest to that freak show. I mean nothing. Not unless he wanted some crack, which was doubtful.

“Hey, Junk-o!” He called out, I was assuming to me.

“What?”

“A little birdie told me that you sold something to a guy I’m after. Goes by the name Crusader. Seen him?” He walked over and placed the gun against my head. “Well?”

“This isn’t a safe place. No one uses any real names.” As I spoke he pushed the gun harder against my flesh.

“John Crusum, also known as Crusader. You’ve never seen him?”

“Never.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why would I lie? You just killed all my men with not even a hint of remorse. What would I gain from lying?”

“You tell me, Alex.” His arm slacked slightly. Though the gun was still in it’s place.

My mind searched trying to think of anyone I’d served who may go by such a name. Kind of stupid in my humble opinion, but it was life or death. And you’re fucking wrong if you think I’d choose death.

“Last chance, big guy.”

“Wait!”

“Start talking. Before I blow them dick sucking lips right off of your gorgeously, smooth face. Do you moisturise? My mother always told me I should but I-“

“He came in last week.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Maybe every third base because damn your beautiful, Mr Roman.”

“He said something about going to Chicago!”

“Chicago? Why’s it always Chicago? Why not, fuck I don’t know, Florida? Fucking Chicago.” He placed his hands on his hips, removing the gun from my head.

“That’s all you know?”

“Yes. Honest.”

“Cross your heart?”

“I-“

“Cross it. I love that Disney film. And we can reference it because guess who owns Marvel? Looking at you in the audience, you know who you are.” His attention came back to me. “Pleasure doing business with you but now I’m gonna kill yah.”

All I heard was a bang.

Then the dark came.

And here I am now. Stuck in a shitty short story for you amusement.

You amused yet?