Mini side story Part-Three

A chapter just so you guys don't forget I exist, again this was another side story that I had planned on deleting but I've decided to upload it.

I have a few others but I don't know if I should upload them or not. I'll think about it later...

....

A day in the life of...Deadpool!!

The sun barely had a chance to peek through the blinds before a buzzing sound grew louder and louder in the bedroom.

Deadpool stirred, grumbling, then opened one eye. A tiny chainsaw was dangerously close to his nose. He swatted it away. "Five more minutes, Little Buzz."

.....

Hopping out of bed, he proceeded to trip over the dismembered arm from last night's 'assignment'. "Oops, must've missed a spot," he chirped, giving the arm a high-five.

He caught his reflection in the mirror. Spider-Man pyjamas again. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Spidey's developing a crush on me," he mused, stretching and yawning.

Shuffling to the kitchen, Deadpool hummed a tune as he prepared his morning delicacy: Chimichanga Cereal.

It's exactly what it sounds like: miniature chimichangas in a bowl of milk.

But as he was about to take a bite, a thought struck him. "What if..." he murmured, taking out a box of Captain Crunch and sprinkling some into his bowl.

The first bite made him cringe. "Note to self: never mix captains and chimichangas."

Just then, his phone buzzed with a message. A job for later in the evening. Deadpool grinned. "Work-life balance," he sighed happily.

But first, a bath was in order. Deadpool's bath ritual was, let's say, unique. He filled his tub, threw in rubber duckies armed with tiny bazookas, and as bubbles enveloped him, he belted out ballads.

It was midway through his rendition of "I Will Always Love You" that a rubber ducky scored a direct hit. "Dolly would be proud!" he exclaimed, pulling the tiny dart from his skin.

Freshly bathed, and with multiple tiny bullet holes slowly healing, he opened his closet, revealing a row of identical red and black suits. "Hmm, what to wear? Maybe the one with the taco stain from '09?"

.....

(5 Minutes later)

Dressed in his iconic red and black suit (yes, the one with the taco stain), Deadpool made his way to the coffee shop. It had become something of a ritual. The barista, Jenny, was now unfazed by his morning stories.

Today's anecdote? A showdown with a gang of killer rogue raccoons ( not Rocket, he clarified). Jenny listened patiently, then handed him his pumpkin spice latte. "You're a gem, Jen," Deadpool winked, leaving a generous tip.

The park was his next stop. Sitting on a bench, Deadpool produced small explosive devices, tossing them to the ground like breadcrumbs.

Birds swooped down, then soared into the air with a burst of colourful fireworks. "Nature is so beautiful," he sighed dramatically.

Feeling the need for retail therapy, Deadpool made his way to 'Stabby's Secret Weapon Emporium'. As he perused the aisles, an idea came to him. "A DIY weapons day!" He began gathering materials, including, oddly enough, a glitter gun.

As evening approached, he made his way to 'Le Fancy Schmancy', the most upscale restaurant in town.

He'd reserved a table for two: himself and a blow-up doll dressed as Wolverine. The maitre d' raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Throughout dinner, Deadpool chatted with his inflatable companion, earning a mix of amused and horrified glances from other patrons.

Once dinner was over, he realized it was nearly time for his assignment.

But first, a moment of relaxation. Perched on his rooftop, laser pointer in hand, he enjoyed confusing the city's populace and the neighbour's cat.

"Little shit," he grumbled remembering the cat crap he had to clean up from his porch.

Finally, it was time to get to work. Slipping on his mask, Deadpool descended into the night, ready to deliver his unique brand of justice.

...

(5 Hours Later...)

Crawling into bed hours later, he murmured to himself.

"Just another day in the life of ol' Wade Wilson."

Pulling the covers up, Deadpool drifted into a sleep filled with dreams of chimichangas and misadventures yet to come.

.....

A day in the life of...Alfred pennyworth!!

Dawn hadn't yet broken over Wayne Manor when Alfred's alarm chimed. Not a blaring beep, but the gentle tolling of Big Ben, a reminder of his beloved city.

He stretched, got up, and donned his impeccably tailored suit. "Another day in the madhouse," he mused, looking at his reflection.

The first order of business was to prepare Master Bruce's breakfast. As he whipped up a green smoothie, Alfred mused aloud, "To think I could have been serving the Queen. Instead, I'm blending kale for Gotham's nocturnal avian enthusiast."

...

Wayne Manor was sprawling, requiring a precise schedule to keep in order.

As Alfred dusted a 16th-century vase, he remarked, "More priceless artefacts than the British Museum, yet he insists on playing with batarangs."

He moved on to the Batcave's entrance, tapping a specific sequence on the grand piano to open it.

As the passage revealed itself, Alfred descended to do a tech-check. "Ah, the Batmobile, looks like it could do with a good cleaning." he sighed, polishing a tiny smudge off its hood.

.....

(One hour later...)

While running diagnostics on the Batcomputer, he noticed an unread message from Dr. Chase Meridian...Bruce's current paramour.

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred quipped, "Seems like Master Wayne's social calendar is as busy as his nightly escapades."

.....

Lunchtime approached. Alfred prepared a gourmet spread, although he knew there was a good chance Bruce would miss it, lost in his brooding or detective work.

"I do hope he remembers to eat," Alfred said, but sighed knowing full well that probably won't be happening.

....

During the afternoon, Alfred often managed the Wayne Enterprises accounts and answered emails.

A message from Lucius Fox read, "New prototype ready." Alfred typed back:

"Wonderful. I assume it's black?"

.....

By evening, Wayne Manor transformed. Parties, galas, and philanthropy events were the norm.

As Alfred greeted guests at the entrance, he often provided them with his own brand of dry commentary. To a lady wearing a large feathered hat: "Madam, the aviary is two doors down."

....

Late at night, once the guests had departed and Bruce was out on his nightly patrols, Alfred would often sit in the study, reading or listening to classical music.

But the Bat-Signal's glow, visible from the manor, was a reminder of the world outside.

When Bruce eventually returned, battered and bruised from his encounters, Alfred was always ready with first aid and a pot of Earl Grey.

"I do wish you'd consider a safer hobby," he'd chide gently as he stitched up a wound. "Golf, perhaps?"

"Not tonight Alfred."

"As you wish Master Bruce...perhaps crocket would have been a better suggestion.

"..."

.....

Exhausted, Alfred would finally retire for the night, though not before setting out Bruce's suit for the next day and leaving a note:

"Master Wayne, perhaps consider a night off? Your butler could use one too."

Drifting off to sleep, Alfred Pennyworth, the anchor of Wayne Manor and the unsung hero of Batman's saga, hoped for a quieter tomorrow.

But deep down, he knew it was merely a butler's wishful thinking.