I realize that I should really work on my Hetalia fics, but let's face it - my Hetalia fics are very, very serious, and once in a while you need something less serious to liven it up. Thus, my first attempt at humor. If you want other (and probably better) FMA humor fics, I recommend '333 and More Ways to Get Kicked Out of HQ,' by iTorchic and 'Supplemental Rules and Regulations,' by Sekhem.

Fullmetal Alchemist property of Hiromu Arakawa.

Reader discretion is advised.

The Colonel's Bowling Ball

One of Roy's methods of unwinding was bowling on Monday evenings. He wasn't that good at it – the colonel was a few strikes below average – but he liked it; it gave him something to do when he was off work. There was, however, a problem:

His ball was not, shall we say, 'aesthetically pleasing.' In fact, it was by far one of the most butt-ugly things most people had ever laid eyes on. It was colored taupe, neon blue and hot pink and – as if that wasn't frightening enough – it had the name GRETA emblazoned upon it in lavender cursive.

Roy was willing to bet money that the person who had created 'Greta' was either colorblind or insane, and it didn't do anything for his own image when people at the bowling alley took one look at the thing and ran away yelling "Augh! My eyes!"

So no-one was surprised when Roy said he wanted a new bowling ball for his birthday.

They weren't able to celebrate until after hours, but once the official workday (and the official paperwork) was done, the members of Mustang's crew crammed themselves into his office, brightly wrapped presents and sugar infested foods in tow. The company proceeded to dive into Gracia's apple pie and the colonel opened his gifts. After getting a watch (from Riza) and a potato (from Edward), Roy turned his attention to an object wrapped in tissue paper that Maes Hughes had brought in. It was large, round and heavy; in fact, it was just about the size, shape and weight of…

"Oh, I know what this is," Roy said.

There was a pause as the colonel unwrapped his gift. When he was done, his dismayed cry could be heard at the other end of the base:

"SHIT! IT'S GRETA!"

…

The Water Bottle Incident

When Breda left the office for a coffee break, he took Edward's canteen with him. This puzzled his co-workers, who knew of no reason for Breda to be handling the Fullmetal Alchemist's water bottle.

"What were you doing with that?" said Havoc when Breda had returned.

"Oh, nothing," Breda said, placing the canteen back on Edward's desk.

None of them believed that he'd done 'nothing' with it, but they had a fair amount of work to do and no-one really wanted to deal with a pissed-off Riza Hawkeye, so they didn't press him for details. A few hours went by, and just when Roy Mustang's unit had forgotten about the incident, Edward walked in, with his brother Alphonse in tow.

"Hey, is Colonel Bastard here?" Edward said.

"He's in his office," Riza said. "Go ahead; I think he's expecting you."

Edward thanked her and the two brothers headed towards the colonel's office. Before they went in, however, Edward grabbed his canteen off his desk. The rest of Mustang's unit watched as he carried it with him towards Mustang's office, wondering whether or not they should tell him that Breda had been messing around with it earlier. Before any of them could decide, however, the Elric brothers stepped into the office and shut the door behind them. Havoc, Riza, Furey and Falman exchanged looks, wondering what would happen when Edward decided to take a drink.

They didn't have long to wait; about five minutes later they heard three men yelling and footsteps coming towards the door. When it opened, both Edward and Mustang stood in the doorway, with Alphonse standing right behind them. Edward was red-faced and furious, while Roy had some sort of liquid dripping from the ends of his hair. It was white, opaque and it appeared to be…

"ALL RIGHT, WHICH ONE OF YOU IDIOTS PUT MILK IN MY CANTEEN?!"

It was then that everyone noticed that Breda was not at his desk.

…

The Typewriter

Hawkeye's typewriter was at least twenty years old and prone to various technical difficulties – the ribbon jamming, keys falling off, ink smears, etc. It wasn't really all that surprising when Riza lost her temper with the thing and destroyed it in a brutal fashion; what surprised people was how she destroyed it.

One day, she was trying to type a letter to her grandfather and the typewriter was behaving worse than usual. She hadn't even gotten past Dear Lt. General Grumman when the ribbon jammed. After un-jamming it, she tried to move on, only to have some ink spurt out and land right next to her eye a sentence later. Gritting her teeth, she pressed on for another three sentences, which was when the k, i and g keys dislocated themselves. When she'd managed to put the keys back in their correct locations, she typed up three words – and the ribbon re-jammed.

That, as they say, was the straw that broke the camel's back. With a frustrated yell, Hawkeye stood up and pushed her typewriter off her desk and out the window.

It wasn't until she heard the yelp that accompanied the crash that she actually looked out the window.

Roy Mustang stood on the pavement below, pale, shaky and approximately three centimeters to the left of the ruined remains of Riza's typewriter. Riza did the math. If her superior had come by her window just a few seconds later…

Mustang looked up at her and gave her a weak smirk. "I take it this means you need a new typewriter, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye was too mortified to reply.