Riza Hawkeye, Football Fanatic
"SUPERBOWL PARTY!" Exclaimed the top card in a stack of football-shaped invitations. They were inexplicably piled on Mustang's desk, one for each person in his fairly close-knit group of underlings.
"What are these doing here?" He whispered to himself. Then, he noticed a post-it stuck next to the stack. "Mustang- please make sure everyone gets one. Thanks. Riza." Since when does Riza like football? But all right, I'll pass them out.
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Ed stomped into Roy's office with his usual subtlety.
"Whatcha call me for, Bastard?"
"Well, Riza wanted me to give your Superbowl party invitation personally, so here it is." Mustang handed Ed his football-shaped card.
"What? Since when does Riza like football?"
"No clue. Hadn't pegged her for the type, myself. Anyway, you're going."
"Hell yes, I am! I wouldn't miss something like this!"
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Superbowl Sunday finally rolled around, and everyone in the 'office' (none of whom expected her to like football) had shown up. They were all greeted at the door by a damned near unrecognizable Riza Hawkeye. She was dressed in a hugely oversized Green Bay Packer's jersey (specifically Brett Favre's), hanging down to her knees over ratty jeans, with her hair in a messy ponytail and Heineken in hand. Hawkeye drinks… beer?!
"Welcome to the party, boys! Just crash anywhere."
The boys who actually liked football- Jean, Heymans and, also surprisingly, Cain, sat on the couch next to Riza, directly in front of her 40-inch plasma screen. The boys who had no interest in football but had come only to see Hawkeye all football-ed out (Roy and Ed) just crashed on a chair in the back, inappropriately making out all the while.
"So, Riza, I'd never pegged you for a Heineken girl before."
"Of course, Jean. Packer's colors."
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The game had been a close one the entire time, separated by only 3 points the entire time. Up until the closing of the fourth quarter, Riza had been fairly well-behaved, shouting the occasionally, "GOgogogogogogogo! All right!" and maybe a couple times she shouted, "C'mon, that's such a BS call!" The exclamation which truly made her guests' blood run cold, which sincerely scared the living crap out of everyone in the room, was towards the end, when the Packers were trailing, and Brett was tripping up a bit.
"Go, Brett! C'mon, kill him! KILL HIM!"
Everybody stared at Hawkeye, genuinely scared for their lives at this point. This just seemed so out-of-character, they feared she must have been possessed. Even Roy and Ed were distracted from their heated game of tonsil-hockey by Riza's primal cry. They all continued to watch in horror and disbelief as Hawkeye swigged some more Heineken and screamed in a guttural voice, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM! C'mon you bastards, WIN THIS!"'
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At the end of the game the wide-eyed, fearful boys in the room all mentally thanked whichever god they worshipped that the Packers had been victorious, winning by a measly 3 points. Seeing Riza's reaction to a losing Packers would probably not be so pleasant. Roy and Ed were the last to leave, and only Roy boasted the cojones to ask the question everyone had had on their minds.
"So, uh, Riza… What the hell was that?"
"Well, uh, Roy, that was my version of therapy. She left it at that and closed the door.
As months went by, the video of the rare occasion of Hawkeye losing her shit had faded in everyone's mind. That is, until they got the invitations to her preseason party.
Postnote: My first complete, non-chapter story in a while. I hope it was worth any waiting!