Still don't own FMA or Naruto. But some day...Muhahahaha
Thank you for the reviews.Chapter 2 Exposé of American Life
A methodical buzzing and bumping against a sturdy wall came from an old rusty radiator as it hissed. Nervous rumpling of hands against paper gave out a choppy echo through the hushed room, breaking silence for moments at a time. Outside, a bird merrily chirped. Neat little steel chairs stood in a welcoming circle. In the midst of vivid lights and shadows, awkward figures of men and women sat with shameful air around them.
"Would anyone like to share their stories with us?"
A lone hand shot up.
A pleasant looking woman nearing her fifties with tussocks of graying hair nodded, eyeing the owner of the raised hand with curiosity.
"Yes?" she said in a rather deep and manly voice. She was probably a smoker, the owner of the hand deduced.
A tall bulky suit of armor stood up from his seat.
"Um, Hi everyone," a childishly naive voice came from the bulky mass of the shining metal. "My name is Alphonse Elric and - God, this is so hard. Can you please give me a moment?"
Ok. Ok. You can do this. You can do this. You're the man. You can do anything. You're the man. Concentrate.
"My name is Alphonse Elric…. and I have problem with alcohol."
The room sounded in polite applause and words of comfort.
"So you admit that you're an alcoholic?" the smoker said, a devilish grin spreading over her aging features.
"No, what I'm saying is that I have a problem with alcohol." Alphonse responded with a blatant frown and an annoyed wave of his hand.
"A problem?" the woman asked, raising brow politely.
"Yes."
"And by that you mean…?"
"I can't drink!"
The room erupted in vigorous applause and cheer.
"Bravo!"
"A shining example to us all!"
"Good for you, sir!"
"If only there were more people like you!"
Alphonse blushed.
Idiots...
After the meeting...
Al was taking down another AA banner from the wall. He was the only one who could reach the ceiling and had enough lung capacity to exercise.
After all, Al thought, this was the United States.
At first, Al had a hard time adjusting to the American way of life. The fact that Americans didn't move, or exercise or think did shock him. The only consolation for the misery of adjusting to the practically vegetable state of life was that it reminded him of Gluttony, the fat, bold, little man that ate everything and anything. Yes, Al could make the connection. But, as he began to observe the American life even closer, he realized that their favorite pass time was not only eating but also whining. Since Al couldn't do the former, he learned the art of whining. Perhaps this was one of the many many reasons why he decided to join the AA. This gave him a chance to learn from the best of the best, whiniest of the whiniest etc etc.
But what delighted Al the most was the American custom of rolling instead of walking. Americans couldn't possibly physically support their impressive bulk of a body on the short weak little legs of theirs long enough to walk five feet of the distance to their cars. These strange creatures actually adapted to their present day form and were quite mobile. More than once Al witnessed as one or the other mountain would fall to the ground, with much racket, and, using unknown gravity defying forces, roll until reaching their destination, a Hummer with a ghastly pet name "Earth Destroyer".
Al heard a slight flop of a shoe heel. In a flash his line of thought was broken. Turning around, he let the banner fall to his feet. It draped around the massive metal pillars of his legs like a hungry snake.
It was the woman from the AA meeting.
"Tell me young man," she began in a frail voice, flittering her eyelashes, clumps of mascara clinging bunches of the hairs together. "Do you know who was my favorite character in Wizard of Oz?"
"What?" he asked his armor face whitening with dread.
"The tin man…"
Al gulped as the elderly woman began to make her way through the room. Her irregular footsteps reminded him of a pirate with a wooden leg. Amazed at such a connection, Al for a moment broke away from reality and dived into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean and tipsy and/or fruity Johny Depp...
But as soon as the significance of the present situation hit him, Al began to panic. There was no way out. And, oh no…she was holding rubbing alcohol. Al let out a slight squeal. He loved rubbing alcohol. It made his armor uber shiny and smooth…
The woman was now a few inches from his head. She eyed him, licking her withered, dry lips salaciously. With one hand she raised bottle of rubbing alcohol.
"I'll rub it in for you," she whispered seductively slightly swinging the bottle between her thump and middle finger.
"No - You don't have to. Honest. I mean…"
"Shush," she said putting a finger on his jagged metal lips.
"Not a word…"
Closing her eyes, the elderly woman lent in to kiss her 'tin man'.
In a moment of panic, Al remembering his ultra mega awesome alchemical powers, quickly used them to make a life size dummie of Bush Junior from the floor tiles. During the moment of confusion, he quickly dodged for the floor doing one of those Matrix jumps with slow motion stuff and awesome techno music.
He slammed the door behind him as he heard the manly woman whisper, "I'm sorry, Georgie. But I don't believe in trans-species relationships. Let's face it. A woman of my class can't be with a monkey... even if you are a great kisser."
"He's married too," Al yelled out as he began to run for the nearest exit.
Alas, it just so happened to be mindless zombie week and the halls were full of … well... mindless zombies. Al quickly charged through the loose jawed and drooling horde, running over two hot guys, a half naked fat chick, and a short bald fat Jewish man who died first when the zombies attacked, simply because he was a meanie beanie. He turned left into the women's bathroom, scared up by a chorus of screams, turned right into the men's bathroom.
He ran in, slamming into the opposite wall and knocking over an immigrant janitor, causing him to drop a badly kept book he had found in one of the stalls earlier and stumbled backwards into the nearest stall.
"No me gusta!" he cried before his ass sunk into the open toilet, trapping him.
Alphonse had nowhere to run. The bathroom had only two doors. Behind one, a necro-fiesta. The behind the other, harsh manly cries for a tin man.
Al backed away from the doors, stepping on the janitor's book. Picking it up, Al read the title. "Naruto…" he said out loud. He opened it, careful not to damage the already injured corners. But as soon as the youth touched the pages of that manga something strange happened. Darkness enveloped everything, forcing air out of the environment. He felt like his head was being pulled forward. Al screamed…
It seemed as though he was out for hours, when Al felt a foot nudge at his side. He reluctantly focused his eyes.
Over him stood half masked man, one eye shown to the world.
"You're a big fellow, aren't ya?"