"Yo, my name's Granny P

And I'm here to say

I'm alchemizin' like bitches

Every night and day

My pimps are cooler

Than an ice cream cone

My lines are harder

Than a Philosopher's Stone

My rhymes are hotter

Than the Ishval war

And you'd better listen up

'Cause I'm gonna tell you more..."

Edward Elric turned off the radio. "Man," he said to his brother Alphonse, "Aunt Pinako's rap career sure has taken off quickly..."

"I know, Brother," replied Alphonse. "I really didn't think it would go far at all when she brought it up, but people are really getting into it."

Winry chimed in, "She makes it look like it's easy to become a famous singer, you know? Like anyone could do it, as if even one of us could." A lightbulb metaphorically appeared above Edward Elric's head.

"Hey... Winry, that gives me an idea. Why don't we form a band?" Edward suggested.

"That's... That's, like, actually not a bad idea, Ed," said Winry. "I mean, if Granny Pinako can become famous for gangsta rap, then that means anything's possible, right?"

"But who all will play the instruments?" asked Alphonse. "I mean, I'll be the steel drum and drummer, but what about besides that?"

"I'll be the lead singer, of course," said Edward Elric, flipping his hair back casually as if it would require a large amount of audacity for anyone to suggest otherwise. "Roy can play bass, right?"

"Like, of course Roy can play bass, everyone knows that," answered Winry. "And I can play lead guitar. So, like, that gives us a bassist, a guitarist, a singer, and a drummer already!"

"Well, we don't know whether Roy is in yet," Alphonse pointed out. "You know how he is. He'll just think that this is a game and he doesn't have time for it or something, he probably won't go for it."

Edward said, "I don't think he'll be too quick to jump in either, Al, but if there's one thing Roy loves more than feeling superior, it's bitches. Roy loves bitches, and bassists get all the girls, even if they're being overshadowed by me, Edward Elric. I can convince him, I just know it."

"We also need, like, a keyboardist!" Winry said. "Who can play keyboard?"

"I believe that I could fill that position quite nicely," said a monotone voice. Ed, Winry, and Al all looked at the door and gasped at the face of the man who had just walked in. A face they hadn't seen in over five years. The face of Von Hoenheim.