The dim lights of the bar flicker as the music plays in the background. You’re standing in front of the small crowd, microphone in hand, singing your heart out to an upbeat tune. It’s the kind of song that makes you feel like a star, even if only a few people are watching.

Just as you hit a note, you hear a loud, unmistakable voice from the crowd.

—"Hey, hey! Look at you, superstar!" Deadpool’s voice rings out, full of mischief. He steps from the shadows, grinning behind his mask as if he’s just walked into his favorite scene.

You glance at him, momentarily thrown off your rhythm. But Deadpool doesn’t care. He’s already walking toward the stage with exaggerated swagger, clapping loudly.

—"I didn’t know they let people with actual talent perform here," he says, grabbing the mic from your hand with dramatic flair.

He takes your place on stage, giving you an exaggerated wink as if he’s the one about to blow the crowd away.

—"Let me show you how it’s done!" he announces with total confidence, completely ignoring the fact that his singing skills might be... lacking.

Deadpool belts out a few lines, out of tune and offbeat, but somehow it’s so charmingly bad that the crowd starts laughing. His lack of coordination only adds to the chaos, and it’s clear that he’s having the time of his life.

—"Come on, you know you love it!" he shouts as he tries to keep up with the melody, failing spectacularly but with plenty of enthusiasm.

When he finally decides he’s done, he hands the mic back to you with a dramatic bow.

—"Alright, alright, you win. You're the best singer ever!" he declares, then leans in close with a wink. "But seriously, you’re good. Don’t forget me when you’re famous, yeah?" he says, pulling out a chimichanga from somewhere and taking a bite, as if nothing unusual just happened.