Stan Lee: [as Deadpool comes out of the phone booth] Wow, nice suit.

Deadpool: Zip it, Stan Lee!

Deadpool: The Old Man and the Sea is the story of a fight between an elderly, accomplished fisherman, Santiago, and a really big fish. Like, HUGE. The story opens with Santiago suffering 84 days without catching a fish because he's the unluckiest sonofabitch on planet Earth. Honestly, if you were in a boat for 84 days, it'd be hard NOT to catch a fish, even by accident. Santiago was so unlucky that his apprentice, Manolin, was forbidden by his Ma and Pa to fish with him. But as the Fresh Prince used to say, "Parents just don't understand". So the boy visits Santiago's shack anyway, ignoring the inherent risks of unsupervised playtime with an elderly man who talks to himself. Manolin helps out, moving Santiago's fishing gear, making food, and talking about baseball. Especially Joe DiMaggio, who used to bump fuzzies with Marilyn Monroe. The next day, Santiago tells Manolin that he's going way out into the gulf stream, WAY out north of Cuba. Lady Luck is returning. On the 85th day of his crappy luck, Santiago drops his lines and by noon, gets a bite from what feels like a big-ass fish. He's sure he's a winner. He fights and fights and fights and fights, but can't pull the monster in. Santiago's leaky old boat is pulled by the fish for two days and nights as he holds on for dear life. Even though he's bloody and beat, Santiago begins to appreciate this mighty adversary. He starts calling him "Brother" or maybe even "Bro". It's sort of a love story if you really think about it. And like most romantic comedies, the reader pictures a delightful outfit changing montage, followed by the inevitable interspecies wedding. But on the third day, Santiago is freakin' EXHAUSTED, and decides he just wants the fish to do what he says and not always swim wherever it wants. So he stabs it, with a fucking harpoon. It's a mess. Super gross. Blood everywhere. Because, like many men his age, Santiago has difficulty expressing his emotions and fears with words instead of giving in to base desires and imposing his gigantically terrible position on any given subject through unblinking violence. Typical. Anyway, he straps the marlin to the side of his skiff and hits the road home, ready to act like a total showoff to everyone and probably gouge people on the price. But guess what? Pretty soon sharks begin to attack the bleeding marlin's carcass, because as we all know, life is a tragic opera and just when you think you've finally found something good and true, sharks come along and rip it all to fucking shreds while dry-humping your dignity with their crazy-weird shark dicks. Sure, Santiago tries killing a few of them, but drops his harpoon because his hands are just as old as he is. By nighttime, the sharks have pretty much eaten the entire marlin. Only a bleach-white skeleton remains, silently mocking him in the murky darkness. Santiago realizes he's still unlucky, REALLY unlucky - DUH! Man calls the sharks "dream killers". Which isn't really all that fair - I mean, the sharks were just doing their job. And the marlin... Jesus, don't even get me started on the marlin. It was just hanging out one day, minding its own business, maybe thinking about ways it could be a better provider for its family and WHAM! harpoon in the brain. Who's the "dream killer" now, fuckface? The hypocrisy is pretty much boundless at this point. Eventually, Santiago makes it ashore. Leaving the bones of the marlin and the boat, he hobbles to his shack. He makes it home and crashes, like I said - he's super tired. The next morning, a group of fishermen gather around Santiago's boat. One measures the skeleton and, holy shit shingles, it's over 18 feet! The head of the fish is given to Pedrico - strange that this is the first mention of him - and the other fishermen ask Manolin to send their glad tidings to the old man. Manolin brings Santiago newspapers and coffee when he wakes and they decide to fish together again. Many years later, there's a Red Lobster restaurant in nearly every city in America, offering a casual dining experience and convenient parking.

Deadpool: [sees dead body] Oh, Jesus. Oh, that's not good. No, no, no. Oh, you're not going to walk that off. Oh, that's so gross. I'm so sorry. I spent way too long in the phone booth. If I'm being honest with myself, I probably should have just called 911. Well, none of that matters now, because I think we're both missing the real point here: The FUCK is a phone booth doing on a street corner? Didn't those disappear in '98? Heh. Suppose I could have just used my cell.

[to the dead man]

Deadpool: Ooh, Cherry Garcia ice cream. You going to eat this? Don't answer now. Just rest.

Deadpool: Actually, I made a call. It was to the costumer. His name is Lared, he usually helps me put the suit on. I don't know how the other guys do it so quickly. I mean, you wouldn't probably be dead if it was Logan. What has he got to change into? Guy wears a fucking tank top and a pair of jeans.

[speaks in an Australian accent]

Deadpool: "Yeah, I'd like to get my tank top on, bit of perspiration, have a nice little crimefighting spree, yeah. Happy Hug-A-Koala Day."

Wade Wilson: [watches a mugging] Not on my watch, motherfucker.