A somewhat lengthy author's note:

Uhm, just so you guys know, this story really does have a plotline. I implied a part of it in Chappy 3, (on Roy's POV) but nobody found it yet. I think I buried it real deep coz even my psycho genius friends who read it (one stumbled across it on another confiscated it from me during class hours. She's a frickin officer) didn't mention it yet. Ouch. I needed their opinions on it...

Well, whatever anyway. Chappy 4 is written to back up Chapter 5, wherein I made the plotline very much explicit. I think.

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Dearest Diary

Chapter 4

Hot Pants

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Dearest Diary,

I honestly curse whoever jackass invented hot pants. That very much inane person must have not taken into consideration the negatives that his respective invention could bring

Let me elucidate.

If that damned pervert hadn't invented such a thing, It would not be in stores right now.

If that thing had not been in stores right now, It would not have been bought.

If that damned brunette hadn't bought hot pants, she would not wear any.

If she had not worn any, she wouldn't look so amazingly captivating.

If she hadn't looked so amazingly captivation, Colonel SlutHungry wouldn't have spoken to her on his way to his car.

If Colonel Mustang hadn't spoken to her, I wouldn't have run to the window.

If I hadn't run to the windo, I wouldn't have craned my neck in order to see better.

If I hadn't craned my neck in order to see better, I wouldn't have lost my balance.

If I hadn't lost my balance, I wouldn't have fallen out the window.

If I hadn't fallen out the window, I wouldn't have landed right unto a pile of trash.

If I hadn't landed right unto a pile of trash, I wouldn't have smelled like shit.

If I hadn't smelled like shit, I wouldn't need to take a shower.

If I hadn't taken a shower, I wouldn't have slipped on my way out.

If I hadn't slipped on my way out, I wouldn't have broken my arm.

If I hadn't broken my arm, I would so totall be beating up that damned brunette with the Hot pants of utter evil and deciet!!

If you go waaaaaaaay back up there, when I started this entry, you will see that the lecherous inventor was the one who caused this dilemma.

I mean, such a THING so TRIVIAL and WORTHLESS has degraded me, reducing me to THIS!

I mean, I, 1st Lieuenant Riza Hawkeye, had been demoted because of a microscopic piece of...

Yeah, what is that thing made of?

Well, whatever anyway.

I'll just buy myself a pair of those shits and wear them tomorrow, on my day off.

I'll "bump" into the Colonel, and then prove to him that he, indeed, is a hormone - leaking pig.

If ever he were to somehow even hit on me, even with his knowledge of who I am, it would enough for me to shove his ass in hell each day.

He'll be moping over the ass he can't have.

Ha!

The perfect revenge!

Revenge for what, you say?

Duh!

The broken arm, the forehead bruise, for having to duck under the carwheel, for wasting a minimum of 3 bullets each day, and etc. etc.

Man, my ass can't wait to draw blood!

From the ever loving,

Riza Hawkeye

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I wrote chappy 5 before I wrote this, but I needed back up so thus, a chappy 4 was born.