Only a fool, or Charlie Chaplin, would find himself sitting in a chair on top of a flagpole, 20 feet in the air. Hadn't he scoffed at those young trendy minded flaming youth in the past? How many expletives had he used to describe Shipwreck Kelly, the man who started the foolish affair at an American university? Many, he suspected.

It was cold, the chair was uncomfortable, his back was stiff, the sandwiches were stale and he had far too many bottles of Coca Cola! How on Earth had he gotten into this? Edward Elric groaned, shifting in his chair and staring 20 feet down, and the mob of stylish young flappers stared up at him.

Edward recognized many of them as his students. They had better things to do, like studying, and he wondered why so many had gathered beneath him. His was the only Physics class with a large female enrollment, most of them modern shebas with the tendency to stand far too close to him during paper corrections and after class tutoring.

A few young men in baggy pants walked by, slapping each other with their caps, and pointing at him. He was making a spectacle of himself. What would the faculty say when they found out?

Hadn't Al said some giddy American sat 28 hours and set the world record? Hadn't he claimed pole sitting was just like sitting on another one of those boring stake-outs in Amestris?

A convertible model T with a cab filled with gawking trendsetters rumbled by. The jolting occupants waved and cheered at him, making Edward wish he could just vanish.

What did Al say? It would help bring school spirit to the student body seeing one of their favorite young professors involved in their activities?

He sighed.

Activities, fads. He tolerated the crossword puzzles; they stimulated the mind. He even didn't mind when Al dragged him to the Movie Palace to see the latest Rudolph Valentino film. He loved jazz and even did the Charleston from time to time.

The girls below chattered and giggled as a young blond in a knee length skirt with her short hair bobbed walked up to the pole and dropped yet another bottle of coke in the basket beside the pole. "I thought you might want another drink professor." She said, blushing fiercely as she pulled the rope and sent the basket up.

Another coke. The trashcan next to the pole had more than two dozen bottles with a few cans of sardines and empty chocolate bar wrappers. All of them hand fed by blushing, chatty girls with doe eyes as they delivered the offering every few moments. Nothing was worth this.

"Brother?" Edward recognized that voice anywhere. It was Al.

Edward craned his neck, looking past the crowd. An eruption of whispers came from the girls as they set eyes on Al. They must have liked him. Ed didn't know what it was. The boy was just a little taller than himself, and didn't bother dressing his age. Today he was wearing a green V neck sweater, knickers, bow tie and argyle socks, capitalizing on the fact he was the youngest fellow on campus and cute to boot.

Determined, Alphonse pushed past the girls. He waved what looked like a rolled up newspaper, and hint of worry wrinkled his young brow.

Gut tightening, Edward Elric shifted, pulling a book from his frock coat and opening it. "What is it, Alphonse?" He snapped, trying to look as if he was not bothered by the entire affair.

"How are you doing up there?" Al asked, covering his eyes from the glaring noon sun. "I trust you are comfortable?"

"Yes, I'm comfortable," Edward replied feeling a wash of guilt. His brother was delighted with his promise to attempt to break the world record. How could he dash the boy's hopes with how miserable he felt. It was an effort, but Edward smiled.

Below he heard a girl giggle and whisper to her friend.

The blond, Sophia, was still waiting for him to take his Coca Cola.

"Good, than you won't mind when I tell you I was wrong about the record." Alphonse said, voice filling with agonized guilt.

"Wrong?" Irritableness flickered in Edward's voice as he leaned just a smidgen on his pole. "How wrong?"

Al bowed his head, chin nearly touching his chest and brow furrowed with agony. "Ahhh, very very wrong, Brother." He waited for Edward to grab his coke and lower the basket. It rattled down the pole until it settled next to Al who dropped the rolled up newspaper in the basket. "I'm sorry brother."

"Very, very wrong, Alphonse tells me absolutely nothing." Edward snorted. A slight breeze whipped up and tossed his long hair from his face. Ignoring the gasps and coos from the crowd, Edward Elric pulled his coat closer and clung to his book and coke. "How very very wrong?"

"It's not 28 hours brother. It's 28 days." Alphonse replied quickly as he yanked on the rope and sent the paper up. "But it is all in fun, and I got word from the University, and they think its all just grand, you doing this… For King and Country… You know… I mean it's about time the English start adding to the insanity, since the Americans dominate our films and such."

"For King and country." It had become their motto when Winston Churchill helped to arrange their citizenship to the United Kingdom as a favor to their deceased father. Edward fumbled the words, tasting each syllable with absolute distain. "28 days."

"28 days, and seven hours to be precise."

The basket came to a whine just underneath his chair. Edward reached down, grabbing the newspaper and flipping though it until he saw the headline. "American sets world rage Pole sitting 28 days!"

"28 days." Edward repeated.

"And seven hours." Al reminded. "You can do it brother!"

There was a chorus behind him as his admires shouted out encouragement and support. But none of that mattered. Al was asking him.

Al was asking him to break the American record for the crown.

Edward dropped his chin, and settled into the seat. He had been there forever. "All right all, 29 days it is. That means I have what 28 days and how many hours to go?"

"23 brother, you've been sitting for an hour now. But I'm sure it will go by fast!" Alphonse said trying to cheer him up. "Why, I'm sure one of the lovely ladies will bring you something from the pub…. that should help I'd think…"

The cheer from the supportive crowd behind Al only made Edward's head ache. They didn't make an ale strong enough to endure this day, or any of the next 28 ones to follow.

Edward Elric sighed, flipping open the newspaper. "The next thing he will be asking me to do is swimming the bloody English Channel!" But it was for Al, and perhaps his smile, made it slightly if at all tolerable….