by Joe Bernstein
Hugh Jackman closed his eyes. The moment had finally come. At the very first screening of his final movie as Wolverine, he savored the realization of a lifelong dream, the fulfillment of a decades long contract.
When he was first chosen to play Wolverine, nobody expected him to appear in 200 separate movies. They never expected the Marvel franchise to be so... deathless. Even so, the demand that he write the entire script of the movie himself, with no editors or modifications of any kind, didn't seem too terrible. Nobody expected... this.
Hugh actually teared up as the theater full of stars, movie execs, and rich people watched his first real artistic creation. Professor X was giving a long-winded speech on screen; "So the blackses and the whiteses, who are us, did the fights, and it was bad. So we make up the comic book where the fights happen to show the us'es that the fights is bad, you dig?" The students nodded diligently. Wolverine walked up behind the professor wearing nothing but a red Cosabella Dolce bra ($48.85) and a Hatsune Miku cosplay wig ($22.99), his long flaccid cock dangling close to the professor's clean-shaven cheek. He was calm as all fucking hell when he spoke, "Shut the fuck up. This is the real deal. Galaxitus is coming to destroy the Earth planet. We can stop him," he pulled a Newark e-cig (free app!) out of his bra and gave it a puff, "but we're going to have to give ALL of the female women SPIC AIDS."
Professor X nodded wisely as the children screamed. Wolverine flipped his ballsack up, revealing the seventh adamantium claw that shnicks out of his taint. "So this is what it's come to," Professor X said quietly, beginning to rub the carefully sculpted hair along Wolverine's thighs, "A grown, grotesque man shouting racial slurs and the word AIDS at a room full of children for absolutely no reason."
Hugh Jackman laughed out loud and shot a glance at the actor who portrayed the professor, Neil Patrick Harris, who was tied to a chair at the front of the theater with a fetish fantasy deluxe ball gag with dong (only $12.67!) cinched firmly in place, not showing any signs of reluctance or of happiness.
"But how, cool Wolverine, are we to giving these women aids?" X asked, his lips mere centimeters away from that warm pit of man-flesh.
"I don't have time to explain it Prof-boy, but EVERY child in the America States of Unite must buy a new X-MEN Crisis in the Danger Room Game (Only 74.99!) and a brand new iPhone, and only that way will the black seed spread!"
The movie had barely begun and Hugh Jackman was already in tears, laughing, barely able to stand the pain of trying to breathe. The room has mostly emptied by this point, except for Rogert Ebert, whispering to himself in the dark; "This... this is what it's all been for... Hey, buddy," producing a small vial of ash that hung from a chain around his neck, he said to it, "I can finally put you to rest. Our mission is complete." To the four stars on his chart he added a fifth, in blood, cum, and Siskel-ash before finally swallowing the cyanide capsule he'd held under his tongue for almost fifty years.