ROY MUSTANG AND THE CURSE OF THE RED BACK'S REVENGE. Part 1
A "Crackfic" from the Journals of Roy Mustang
By The Binary Alchemist, 2014
(lyrics inspired by "Redback Spider" by Slim Newton)
"There was a mean ol' redback spider
At the dunny hole last night
Too dark to see the bastard
But by hell I felt the bite
I jumped ten feet up in the air
Before i hit the ground
But that goddamned redback spider
He weren't nowhere to be found!"-traditional western territory outback drinking song
SOMEWHERE WEST OF THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, WESTERN AMESTRIS…
"You realize I'm going to kill you as soon as they let me out of here, right, Havoc?" Roy's bare toes flexed and curled from under the flimsy cotton exam gown the Fuhrer of Amestris had been bullied into by a Cretan nurse whose biceps were only slightly less beefy than Sig Curtis. "Come to think about it," he mused, "think I'll kill you twice. Once for reporting this to Madman Mandelay and once for the hell I'm going to get from Ed when he finds out you were looking at my ass in the showers. Which reminds me-" a dark brow twitched in irritation, "you still haven't explained to my satisfaction why you were staring at my ass, considering that as far as I am aware it bears no resemblance to a female breast...at least I hope to hell it doesn't."
Jean Havoc gnawed on the filter of his unlit cigarette and tried to remember if there were any gods he actually believed in enough to invoke for assistance in times of mortal danger, such as having his ass hairs ignited by his superior officer "Uh...well...you're right, sir. I'm a breast man, red blooded 110 per cent. But..." he rubbed at his goatee and glanced around for the nearest fire extinguisher, "When you bent over for the soap…well, I couldn't take my eyes off it. All big and red and swollen and hard and-and-"
A thin blue line of fire poofed into life along the tips of Roy's fingers,, rather like the gas ring on the camp stove for heating billy tea in the western outback. "A man could take that statement any number of ways, Havoc. Choose wisely."
Havoc's shaggy blond head drooped in defeat. "I wasn't looking at your your dick, SIR. But, sheesh, white as you are, you had this swelling on your backside and it was as bright red as a goddamn traffic light. I've seen it before in these parts.I'm a country boy, right? Didn't they warn you not to use the shitter or squat in dark around these woods? Shit, this place is crawling with red backs and funnel web spiders, sir! They go after the flies around privies and shitholes, and if they go after YOU instead you gotta get it treated before the venom and bacteria gets in your system or else..."
"Or else what?"
ka-BOOM! The wooden door to ther bivowac tent was booted open and the doorway was eclipsed by a mountain of a Westie with rum on his breath and a mustache Armstrong could do chin ups on. He had a roasted chookie's leg in one hand, dripping in mouthwatering basting sauce that made Roy's stomach grumble with envy. In the other beefy mitt, the intruder brandished a syringe sporting a needle big enough to puncture a car tire.
It was Colonel Mandeville 'Mad Man" Mandelay, chief medical officer of the Amestrian armed forces for the West Area. "Or else you become my problem, Mustang. You get to bend over that dainty arse for me, Sunny Jim, and I paint a target on your bumcheek and spend the next happy fortnight improvin' on my aim for the dart's league. Oh," he grinned maliciously, "before ya think o' pullin' rank with me as Fuhrer, I sent a telegram to Dr Knox. He's knows your ways, and I've got a writ that says, as your current medical superior I can pull rank and keep you here until you get better. Now then," he twirled the syringe with glee, "Havoc? Bend the old girl over and let's see how many throws it takes to get a bullseye. Think I can get it in one shot and bring home a stuffed toy for the missus?
…TO BE CONTINUED….