Okay, peeps, I'm back after another bout of writer's block. I apologize for continually using that excuse. I know it sucks, but I've honestly been trying hard to fight my way out of it and haven't come up with much yet. Any help you guys could offer would be well received. I've never had writer's block this bad before in my life.

Anyway, this is a oneshot that I wrote here because I can still write crack if I have a springboard to go off of. AdventureAddict basically told me to grab a random book and flip through it until I came to a random line, and use that line as the first line of my story, whatever it was. No exceptions. ((Lucky that first line was believable, haha.)) So here's the result. If you want to shoot me, please wait until the conclusion of the story. Thank you.

Disclaimer: If you want to shoot me, please wait... oh wait, I already said that. Well, you can go ask Ed if I own him or not. I don't really care. :P

"It was a misprint," he said, still reading. Al huffed and shook his head, causing Ed to bang his auto-mail on the desk, leaving an imprint. "It was, I tell you!"

"It was not a misprint," said Al. "That was fully intentional."

"No it wasn't!" Ed yelled, throwing the book down in a freakish act of rage that happened altogether too quickly to be at all believable. "No one would ever write such a thing about me!"

"Actually, yeah, they would." Al leaned against the table and cleared his throat. "They write that sort of thing about you all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since the first time you did it."

"I've never done that before!"

"Uh huh," said Al, rolling his eyes. He lay his chin on his hands. "Remember the time when you were nine years old and you did that to Winry and she screamed?"

"That didn't count."

"Right. And what about the time you did it to the Colonel?"

"Hey, the bastard had it coming."

"Maybe he did." Al sat up and leaned back into his chair smugly, smugger than an Al ought to be. Only Eds were allowed to be that smug, yet Al was somehow getting away with it. "But that doesn't mean you didn't do it then."

"But nobody knows about it but him," said Ed, "What's with this?" and he gestured to the newspaper article that had ticked him off so. "Who in their right minds would think I would do such a thing? Colonel Bastard swore to secrecy over the matter."

"You did do it again more recently, Brother."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm meaning the time you did it in the fountain. Remember when you did it in the park in front of a bunch of tourists?"

"They don't matter. They're a bunch of nobodies."

"I'm pretty sure I saw a reporter there that day who recognized you."

At this, Ed turned his full attention to Al. "Are you telling me you know who would shame my name like this?"

"Um, no," said Al, huffing again at his brother's amazing stupidity over the whole matter, "But I saw him and know he's a reporter."

Ed jumped to his feet. "We're going down to the newspaper building this instant. I want you to identify the creep and we'll put an end to this nonsense."

Al slowly stood up, not at all sure how he was supposed to react to this nonsense, and nonsense it definitely was. "Brother, isn't this a bit excessive?"

"No!" Ed started pacing back and forth and shaking his hands angrily. "Don't you understand, Al? This could ruin my entire reputation, life, and career!"

"Really."

"Yeah, really! How can you just stand there and give me that apathetic look of yours and not care about the fate of your brother's future existence?"

"The word is indignant, not apathetic, and I do care, just not in the way you're wishing me to."

"Some brother you are!" said Edward, and he stomped out the door, slamming it hard behind him.

Another huff from Al, and he threw on his coat. "Alright, alright, I'm coming!"

At the newspaper place, Ed marched up to the first person he could see. "Who's responsible for defaming my name so cruelly in today's newspaper?"

The lady looked a bit unsure of herself, as well as of the creep in front of her, and casually asked, "Who are you?"

Al walked up behind Ed and grunted, "He's the Fullmetal Alchemist."

At this, the lady said, "You're the Fullmetal Alchemist?" and proceeded to laugh until she'd collapsed onto the floor and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Ed wasn't going to be able to get much out of her, so he went to find the next person.

The next person responded by calling some of his co-worker buddies to come over and see the crazy kid who was responsible for today's headline, and they all laughed and started shaking his hand, a gesture Ed wasn't completely sure was complimentary. Deciding he'd get no more from them, he went to find the next person.

The next person he asked was a scrawny little man with glasses peering cautiously over the wall of his cubicle, and when Ed walked up to him, he held up a cross in Ed's direction. Ed raised an eyebrow and kept walking anyway.

Al stood back, waiting to watch the drama unfold, and seriously wishing he had some popcorn to munch on. Not finding that, he decided to arrange some chairs in full view of the scene and invite some of the newspaper personnel to sit and watch what transpired. It took less than two minutes for every chair to be filled, and many people were standing up and trying to get a peek at what was happening in the next room.

Ed approached the man, and the man slipped away from the wall so Ed couldn't see him anymore. Undeterred, Ed went around to the cubicle door and found the man curled tightly under his desk.

"What are you doing?" Ed asked.

"Please, don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

"Why?"

"Because it would be very kind of you to resist the urge to kill."

"No," said Ed, "I was asking you why you were asking me not to."

"Oh," said the man, "Because I really hope you won't kill me?"

"No, no, no," said Ed, "Why are you suspecting that I'd want to kill you?"

At this, there was a silence that rivaled the Big Bang in intensity, and everyone watching was either on the edge of their seats or standing on the tips of their toes. Al, in his frenzy at not being able to find any popcorn, settled for chewing on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Because," said the man, "No one lives after they write their first front page headline?"

Everyone watched as Ed drew the lines to connect the dots in his head, and waited with bated breath as the blood lust entered Edward's eyes and he turned to face the man. "You," he pointed, "You!"

"Me?" said the man.

"You!"

"Me?" said the man again.

"Yes, you!" said Edward, and balled his hands into shaky fists. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna kill you!"

"I knew it," said the man, who then bounded out of his safe spot and leapt over the cubicle walls until he reached a window. "No one lives long after their first headline article... but I can gain a few more minutes!" And the man vanished out of sight out the window.

At the sight of that, Ed rushed to the window, but Al jumped up and pulled Ed away before he could do anything more rash. "It's okay, Brother, it's okay, he's gone."

"But he's gonna get away! I can't let him get away!"

"No, he won't," said someone else, walking up behind them, "He picked the wrong window. He jumped straight into an uncovered manhole."

"Aw, the poor guy," said Ed, then, remembering what it was he had set out to do in the first place, changed his stance to, "The jerk deserved it!" And then he got creeped out once he rethought the term, "uncovered manhole" and wondered if someone was trying to create a creepy double meaning that he didn't particularly care for.

Meanwhile, the entire newspaper staff got up and applauded Ed for his amusing performance, and in return for amusing them so much, promised to send out a memory erasing article with their next issue so that no one would ever have to know what Ed had done to make things go as crazy as they had gone today ever again.

So they did it.

And no one remembers what Ed did.

Not even me.

Sorry for leaving you hanging there.

The End.

(Now you may shoot me. I know you want to. Just get it over with.)

Anyway, there it is. I will not justify or negate it with any further words, since I have no words for this thing I have written. If you have any suggestions on helping my writer's block though, feel free to comment... or if you just want to comment on the story or shoot me or something, feel free to comment. All the same, thanks for reading ((I think?)) and see you next time.