After tossing out a crumpled five-dollar bill and disregarding how his Mexican cousin might feel about it, Deadpool carried his paper bag to the riverbank. With a lecherous grin on his face, he began pulling props from it.
The paper bag was not large, yet it contained an absurd amount of stuff. Deadpool first pulled out a 100-inch television, followed by an entire home surround-sound system, then a diesel generator.
After taking out those large items, he pulled out some grapes. The purple grapes had been washed clean, with droplets of water still clinging to them, making them look Bling Bling in the sunlight.
"Are black plums sweet? I don't know, but these grapes..."
As he spoke, Deadpool plucked a large grape and shoved it into his mouth. His already rotten, ugly face immediately twisted into an extreme grimace. He bared his teeth for a long while without managing to say anything. About three seconds later, drool spilling uncontrollably from his mouth, he finally squeezed out a sentence:
"They're fucking sweet. Sweet enough to kill someone. Hiss, fuck, my teeth hurt like they're being stabbed with needles. My oral cancer is about to relapse."
Clearly, he had no intention of eating a second one. This was obviously not something humans could endure. He pulled a thread from the elastic waistband of his underwear and tied a bunch of large grapes to a drooping branch beside the river.
Then he began explaining his plan.
"Finding the fox might be difficult, but I can make the fox come find me. I once read a fable. I forget what it was about exactly, but it said foxes like grapes, and when they can't get any, they say the grapes are sour. That's the wisdom of the ancients. I believe they wouldn't lie to