"See me? Who wants to see me? I'm not going. My movie is ruined. Now that I've filmed you, there's no way a movie like this can be shown in theaters with any rating. I can only burn it onto discs and sell them to perverted fans of extreme content, so they can take them home and savor it alone in the dead of night. It's all your fault. Why did you have to grow up looking like that?"
The dispirited Deadpool drew circles on the floor with his foot, spreading the flakes of skin falling from his body even more unevenly.
Maybe it was a problem with this teleportation method, but when he arrived, Wade felt as though his skin had lost all its moisture and become dry and shriveled.
If someone knowledgeable had been here, they would have realized that spatial turbulence had merely pulverized and stripped away a layer of grime armor from the bastard's body.
He was now utterly disheartened, complaining and shifting blame, having completely forgotten that he himself had done plenty of things unsuitable for minors to know about—things far more unhealthy than this one gigantic organ.
"I don't understand what you're saying, Mr. Deadpool." Pal%Ai was a little anxious. The two tentacles at the bottom of her body tangled together, and her body turned a faint red. "But in the Ninth Cosmos, humanity is quite a broad concept. I really am human. I wasn't lying to you."
In this era, everything in the world was divided into only two categories: human and nonhuman.
"Fine. Actually, I know you probably didn't want to grow into this freakish shape either. No ugly person wants to be born ugly, just like every black person wishes they weren't black. It's not your fault."
Wade pulled himself together.