A/N: Wow. Amazing, amazing response to everything. I really gotta thank you, I was not feeling confident that this piece would take off at all. :glomps AuroranWings, Blonde Hurricane, and Yunaberrie: Intelligent reviews too, by the way.

Disclaimer: Full Metal Alchemist (Hagane No Renkinjitsu) is copywrite Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix Co., LTD, Funimation, Aniplex, BONES, and MBS, and is not the respective property of MoonDeity or any of her aliases.

Warning: The following expert contains what could be interpreted as raciest comedy. If your mind is not currently open, either open it, or turn away right now. All flames concerning this subject will be used to burn the flamers who sent them. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo

Chapter III:

Of Euchre and Blueberries

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As they were walking toward headquarters, Csara and Edward were making out. Now, this requires considerable skill, for to walk and tongue wrestle at the same time is practically as difficult as replacing an ink cartridge or teaching a man from Terre Haute to drive a stick shift.

It's like walking and chewing gum, except they were walking and swapping saliva. But, miraculously, they were doing it, and we aren't going to dwell on this subject any longer for mentality reasons.

As they were walking, an Egyptian lumberjack happened across their path.

Much like the corn trucker and the guy who was swimming freestyle when the world slowed down, said Egyptian lumberjack was without the flu and not enraptured by Csara's aura. He wore a quaint maroon fez and an axe in the shape on an ankh was swung over his shoulder. As he walked, he whistled snatches of the soundtrack from The Mummy Returns.

When he saw Edward and Csara walking toward him, he stopped, stared in wonder, and pushed his fez off his forehead with his thumb.

"Oh by the breast of Bastet," he muttered. "This is bad."

Edward and Csara approached the Egyptian lumberjack, not noticing how a man from Giza could make a living chopping trees.

"You there!" he shouted, pointing his ankh-axe toward them. Csara and Ed stopped, still interlocked, and stared at the curious man.

"You bode badly and bring plagues about to the land!" he said, waving his arms wildly. "Like the hippopotamus that dwells in the river, you fat and groaning! The desert winds are like your dry breath, crumbing this city and all it touches! I really like your ass, it looks like blueberry pie."

At that random comment, Csara shrieked femininely and swung the nearest mailbox at the lumberjack, sending him flying into the street and clobbering into a Dungeons and Dragons tournament, leaving him to the horrible fate of being suffocated by cosplayers and three-million sided die.

Unfortunately, this only made Ed like the Mary Sue more, and began to make out more vigorously as they resumed their walk.

BUT!

Unbeknownst to them, but beknownst to us, the goddess Isis and Paul Bunyan were watching furtively from the Realm of the Gods somewhere in New Mexico.

"Damn that infernal hominid!" Isis said, raising her holy fist that was quivering in holy rage.

"You got that right, slap-stick," Paul said, noting how badly Edward could kiss. "Those pants totally make his ass look fat."

"I don't care about his corpulent ass!" Isis snarled, rounding on the legendary woodcutter. "That Umpah-Loompah slut just KILLED an Egyptian! Killing an Egyptian is nearly as bad as killing an Italian or a Scot!"

"What about a Korean?" Paul asked over his booze.

"Nobody loves the Koreans," Isis spat, stomping over to the Terra-view Screen.

"You're just pissed because King Hwan-In whopped your ass in euchre last solstice," Paul said smiling.

"Shut up or I'll shut you down," growled the fertility goddess, knowing it was true, and picked up her Moto razor. "You should be equally enraged, considering it was a lumberjack that she just threw into a crowd of geeks."

"Yeah…" Paul sighed benignly. "So, what're you going to do about it…?"

Isis cupped her hand around the mouthpiece of her cell phone.

"Going to send someone in," she mumbled, and brightened up when she got a dial tone.

After a few rings, a speakerphone lit on, and somewhere in the background, Franz Ferdinand was blaring over the staticky connection.

"Whaaaaa…..?"

"Cyn!" Isis snapped into the phone. "Get up already, it's 2 friggin o'clock!"

The sleepy person on the other end mumbled something and threw an object at the phone.

"Go 'way…" they slurred. Isis sighed.

"Listen, Cyn, I need you to make a call."

The person on the other end seemed to be vaguely interested.

"To…?"

"You know very well who."

"Wait." The sheets rustled as the person sat up. "You want me to send someone from Heaven? To where?"

"Amestris," Isis said matter-of-factly. "Central City, to be exact."

"Just…'

"From Heaven? No, I also want someone from the NAW corporation, Mars, and…"

"Oh. FINE! Gawsh, frigging…." The person was irritated.
"Why can't you do this, Isis?"

"Because it's a Mary Sue."

There was silence on the other end.

"I'll make the call."

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Meanwhile, back in Central, Ed and Csara had arrived at headquarters. Holding her hand in his, Ed led her through the maze of corridors, and burst into Mustang's office. The Flame Colonel looked up , and it was perceptible by his expression that Edward Elric was not the person he wanted to see.

"What do you want, Ed?" he asked irately. "Me and Hawkeye were totally cuddling."

True enough, the lieutenant sat on Roy's lap with her arms around his neck, a testament to the total powerlessness a fanfic writer has to the whims of her RoyRiza shippers.

Ed grinned wildly, not hearing.

"Hey, Mustang, guess what? This is Csara and she's really pretty and her boobs are big and she's an alchemist/bikini model/writer and she thinks I'm tall and we're totally in love and we're going to Resembol to get married so I can't go on that one mission you gave me about rescuing war orphans from a burning gasoline factory."

Roy raised an eyebrow.

"And you met her when…?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, out on the street."

Roy and Riza did reverse facefaults, crashed upwards through the ceiling, past the moon, to the Realm of the Gods, and disconnected the phone line Cyn was using to make her call. They landed at the feet of the Egyptian lumberjack and were teleported back to Central with fezzes and a new perception of reality.

They sat down again in their old positions as if nothing had changed.

"Now Edward," Riza said cautiously. "Maybe you should take this relationship slowly. You're far to young to get married, and—"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE COULD FIT BETWEEN THE RIDGES OF A CORN COB AND BE PRESSED AND MADE INTO CORN OIL TO FUEL THE CARS OF THE FUTURE?"

Edward spazzed out so violently that he released gamma-waves which traveled to the Realm and disrupted Cyn's call which she was now trying to make via cell phone.

As cartoonish little smokestacks flowed from his ears, Ed stomped out with Csara.

"Come on! We are SO out of here, baby!"

Riza and Roy were left staring blankly at the door. Dante Alighieri, who was sitting in the corner and somehow unnoticed throughout this whole scene for the sake of plot twists, sipped a tea cup full of root beer and commented,

"Rome is better."

This pretty much resolved the all that passed, for Roy agreed, Riza agreed, Dante agreed, the root beer agreed too, and so did Roy's stalker. Roy lit a warm fire and there were happy feelings floating around as a cheesy tune started to play, and they all laughed sociably and discussed what was up with Virgil and Beatrice these days.

Meanwhile, though, Csara and Edward were cuddling up on a train heading straight for Resembol!

HOW on earth will Winry react to the news that Ed is engaged to a woman who only met less than 24 hours ago?

Where the HECK is Alphonse?

WHO is Cyn and whom did she call?

WILL Isis ever beat King Hwan-In at euchre?

And WHAT is up with Virgil and Beatrice these days?

Tune into the latest pointless episode of Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo!

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A/N: Hey, did you all know there's such a thing as botanomancy? It's divination through leaves. People in the 19th century wrote stuff on leaves and left them outside in the wind—the way the breeze scattered the leaves was construed as a message. Pretty wild.