(That...sounds like it could sound vaguely bad...but...huh.)
Deadpool is automatically into this game. Look at those classic cons. Look at that terrible gun. Look at that greasy motherfucker. Man, this was the shit. This was what people came to carnivals for. Ugh. So good.
"It's not the size of the prize, but the accuracy of the shot, my friend." He waggles his head side to side. "Which wins the biggest prize. So. I guess my metaphor comes back around to yours anyway. Eh, we're both gross, but she's into me so it's cool."
He takes the gun and holds it up to the light and examines it from multiple angles. His examinations attract something of a crowd, and the carny starts to look a little nervous. Most people don't handle it like they know what they're doing, let alone examine it like a pro. He hefts it a few times, getting a feeling for the weight.
"uh...you gonna shoot...or..."
"What?" Deadpool looks up as if startled, his finger twitching on the trigger while the gun is pointing up.
But it quickly becomes clear that he wasn't startled at all - just being a smartass. The bullet ricochets off the metal supports of the tent, PINGPINGPING, then rips through the guy's hat, pings off another metal support, zings through all the clowns, then PANGPANGPANG bounces around knocking the bottles down, and finally flies through all the tin men in a line before hitting something metal behind the counter, popping up, and landing in Deadpool's outstretched hand.
"Now should I be that good? Maybe? I dunno. But it sure makes for a good post. And besides, you spend enough time around Bullseye, you pick up a few things. But he would have had the bullet go several inches lower than your hat." He taps his forehead for emphasis. Annnnyways, how do you like how I handle your gun, guy? Good enough to win your prize?"
no subject
(That...sounds like it could sound vaguely bad...but...huh.)
Deadpool is automatically into this game. Look at those classic cons. Look at that terrible gun. Look at that greasy motherfucker. Man, this was the shit. This was what people came to carnivals for. Ugh. So good.
"It's not the size of the prize, but the accuracy of the shot, my friend." He waggles his head side to side. "Which wins the biggest prize. So. I guess my metaphor comes back around to yours anyway. Eh, we're both gross, but she's into me so it's cool."
He takes the gun and holds it up to the light and examines it from multiple angles. His examinations attract something of a crowd, and the carny starts to look a little nervous. Most people don't handle it like they know what they're doing, let alone examine it like a pro. He hefts it a few times, getting a feeling for the weight.
"uh...you gonna shoot...or..."
"What?" Deadpool looks up as if startled, his finger twitching on the trigger while the gun is pointing up.
But it quickly becomes clear that he wasn't startled at all - just being a smartass. The bullet ricochets off the metal supports of the tent, PINGPINGPING, then rips through the guy's hat, pings off another metal support, zings through all the clowns, then PANGPANGPANG bounces around knocking the bottles down, and finally flies through all the tin men in a line before hitting something metal behind the counter, popping up, and landing in Deadpool's outstretched hand.
"Now should I be that good? Maybe? I dunno. But it sure makes for a good post. And besides, you spend enough time around Bullseye, you pick up a few things. But he would have had the bullet go several inches lower than your hat." He taps his forehead for emphasis. Annnnyways, how do you like how I handle your gun, guy? Good enough to win your prize?"