fandomhigh | Arts & Crafts, Wednesday

Hopefully the class prepares for the most intense art class they could possibly get at this school.

"New digs. Not too sure about the layouts, but hot damn look at that lack of Russia."

Or not because this was still Deadpool.

"Alright, I think that's all of you," he said glancing toward the back in case there were stragglers. "And if it's not... No one cares."

Yeah, what could you do?

"Okay, so you're here to learn shit and that's on you. I'm here for a paycheck and the satisfaction that comes from molding young minds and we're both going to leave disappointed," he continued. "My name is Mr. Deadpool. And I'm not going to remember any of yours unless they're funny. So, you know what? Impress me. Make up a name."

It would make keeping track of students impossible. Good thing he didn't do that.

"Oh, and I found some construction paper and glue to go with the fucking bucket of glitter I stole from the supply closet. Make something that represents your inner self." He held up a glitter and glue drawing of a burning house. "This is mine and I'll sue your ass if you plagiarize it."

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"My name is Summer," said Summer, who was not going to make up an interesting name just so some weird guy in tight red spandex would remember it. In fact, considering her history, she'd rather weird dudes in tight red spandex didn't remember her name, ever, because they were usually a lot of trouble and really, really weird. "And I made these flowers because I thought they'd make my room look bomb as fuck. Also, I just like flowers, because I, you know, have a soul."

Not liking flowers had to be right up there with not liking kittens.

"I like the cut of your jib, Santeria," Deadpool decided. "Are you sure about the soul thing, because... teenage girls. I've seen Pretty Little Liars. I know you've probably killed a man."

He had never seen that show.

"Summer," she corrected him, because there was no way she was going through a whole semester of getting that Sublime song stuck in her head. "And you can still kill people and have a soul, you know."

Especially when those people were, like, brain eating viruses and vampires taking over your high school.

"Can you, Cindy?" he asked, cupping his chin in his hands. "Can you?"

Well, right then, Summer kind of wished a glare could kill a man as well as your typical teenage girl could.

"Yes," she insisted. "You can."

Maybe of she was one of James McAvoy's adorable children.

"Agree to disagree."

"Maybe," said Summer, "but if I didn't have a soul, then why would I care if you thought I didn't have a soul?"

"Because you're a demon who hungers for the souls of man." Deadpool put his hands in the air like he just took a free throw. "Boom! Solid case."

"Under what basis?" Summer argued, wondering why she was even bothering, but she couldn't just go around letting people think she was evil and had no soul, okay? "What proof? Oh. Oh, is it because I'm female? Are you saying that all women are evil?"

Yeah, that was her take-away from that. This did start with the fact that she was a teenage girl, after all.

"Yup. Men too. Pretty sure dogs are also evil," Deadpool said. Because why stop now? "Cats are the only pure thing on the planet. And maaaaybe one non-serial killer clown."

If he hadn't said that about cats, she might have completely disregarded everything. But cats were awesome, it was true. Especially in kitten form. When they sat in teacups.

Summer was distracted for two second, then got back on track. "Now I know you're crazy," she said. "There are no non-serial killer clowns."

"There had to be one out there. The outlier than keeps people from ending the clown menance for us all."

"Maybe," Summer allowed. But now she was distracted.

"Wouldn't it be weird if there was, like, a whole planet out there just entirely of non-killer clowns? That's almost as terrifying as a planet entirely of actual killer clowns."

"That sounds like the next summer blockbuster," Deadpool said thoughtfully. "I'm selling that shit to Fox."

"You go right ahead," said Summer, "but I want ten percent."

"Eight. Based off the net profit." In case it failed.

Arts & Crafts, Wednesday - 2nd Period

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