A/N: "Pull out a lucifer, to light my fag." A phrase I found. Lucifer, though is more widely known as the fallen angel, is a fairly common name for matches. Fag, short for fagot, is a cigarette.
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.
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Outmoded Mary Sue Ficcie of Poo
Chapter V:
Revelations
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Edward and Csara were headed on the long dirt road to the Rockbell house deep in the rural hills of Resembool. Csara, who was complaining how her poor slender legs hurt, was actually on Ed's back, and the poor diminutive alchemist had to carry her piggy-back through the country, a feat that would've been far easier if Csara's breasts were smaller. Alas.
Now, as they were trudging along, or, if we want to be subjectively correct, Ed was trudging along, they encountered a rather ugly looking object lying on the side of the road. Ed paused to look at it, and felt his eyelids start to smoke from its ugly.
Boy, was this thing repulsive.
It was all red, and in a shell that looked like a clam, and appeared to be peeling from sunburn. It also was excreting substances that no one needed to know their chemical make up. It kind of reminded Ed of his kissing.
As Ed appraised this repugnant stink of an object, the thing spoke to him in a voice that sounded like the flopping of eels in a bucket.
"Hey," it rasped. "Wassup?"
Ed reeled back from surprise, and nearly dropped Csara, who was catching up on her required 20 hours of beauty sleep.
"Leaping Aristotle, you can talk!"
"'Course I can talk," it replied, its various organelles flopping on the dirt. "I'm a Jedi."
"A Jedi…" Ed raised an eyebrow.
"Damn straight." The thing raised up what appeared to be a…small purple lightsaber. "Jedi Knight."
"That's….great." Ed shifted his cargo, and an awkward silence followed. "Well, I'll be going now."
"May the force be with you," replied the clam-ish, rank, slimy thing. "Oh, and Ed…"
"Yeah…?"
"I…am your father…."
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At the Central Railroad Station, it was noon, and as usual, the platforms were packed with various people boarding and dismounting the steam trains. There was a cheerful hustle and bustle paired with the clatter of steam engines and the steady rush of voices and bodies accompanied it.
"HELLISH OBDURATE WATER NYMPHS, MOVE YOUR FAT ASS!"
Except for that not-so steady body over there. A young woman who had just stepped off the train, auburn hair yanked into a bun, pale skin shining in the sunlight, shrieking at the top of her lungs at a rather portly gentlemen and attracting the attention of half of the station.
"E-excuse, me, young lady, did you ju—"
"DON'T GIVE ME YOUR BOMBASTIC OVERDONE BUREAUCRATESE!" the young woman was screaming at the top of her lungs and shaking her finger in the man's face. "YOU FRIGGING HEARD WHAT I SAID, NOW YOU EITHER MOVE YOUR STATE-WIDTH BUTT OR I'M KICKING IT OFF THIS PLATFORM AND STRAIGHT INTO SPACE! AT LEAST THERE YOU'LL ATTRACT THE ORBIT OF OTHER PLANETS!"
And with that, she grabbed her suitcase, swung it into the man, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying across the platform, and stomped off with fire coming out of her ears.
"First she calls me at two jacking o'clock in the morning with a ticket to go to Amestris, then she forces me to obligingly wear these unprepossessing…"
She plucked at the Amestrian style short jacket and skirt.
"…garments, fires my Medean chain from a cannon, and now here I am, in this abysmal train station where everyone apparently can't keep their fat friggin fingers out of a curly fries container. I swear to Ast, I'm gonna swing them off the planet by their di—"
A hand on her shoulder stopped her frenzied walk and she whirled furiously around to face a military private.
"Oh," she spat. "What do YOU want?"
The military private stared down at this pale skinned, garnet-eyed brouhaha with lasers shooting from her gaze and suddenly thought that it was better to leave her alone.
"Uh…" he stuttered, stumbled over his speech, growing more nervous as the woman's countenance grew more furious. "I…I..just…uh…" He felt his bladder fail him and he sank to the ground with knees suddenly made of jelly. "I want my mommy…" he said, lower lip trembling.
"You frigging better want your mommy, you vacillating reprehensible Zamzummin," she snarled down at the trembling man. "I've seen more guts in a turkey on a Thanksgiving dinner table full of mobsters. You are an infamy, and if you touch me again, I can assure you that not only will you be so disfigured that no one will want to have intercourse with you, but you will have no means to masturbate with yourself ever again!"
And with that , she whirled around and stomped out of the station, leaving the members of the crowd to wonder how on earth she made a trained military soldier of the state weep like a 2-year old at recess.
Now, as this cantankerous young woman stomped out into the sunshine, she set down her suitcase and peeled off the outer layer of Amestrian clothes to reveal a strapless emerald dress, intricately embroidered.
She threw her old clothes on the windshield of a passing bus full of orphans and pulled on a pair of fingerless black velvet gloves reaching up her arms and past her elbows. From her pocket, she took a long gold chain on which hung beads and charms, in the center was a staff of Adad symbol, or fixed star (an X with a line down its middle), and twisted it around her left hand.
"Marvelous to be in character again," she said, holding up her hands and smirking. "I'm starting to feel cocky."
She picked up her case and headed down the causeway, to the north.
This woman is an Enchantress.
We call her Evadne.
Don't get on her bad side.
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Back in Resembool, Edward was exceedingly confused. Here he was, sitting at the Rockbell's kitchen table, located in the Rockbell's kitchen (gasp!), a sunburned clam-thing/father sitting next to him and smoking a fagot, with his fiancée Csara and mechanic Winry having a screaming contest over at the other end of the room.
Actually, to be more unambiguous, CSARA was screaming at Winry, and the mechanic was just standing there.
"Oh, so you think you can steal MY Edward away from me? A smelly, ugly little grease-covered thing like you!"
"I'm not thinking that," Winry replied calmly. "Do I know you?"
"Oh, so you ARE in love with Edward! Well, he sure as hell doesn't love you back, not when you go slutting around in a belly-shirt like that!"
This was going on ever since Winry opened the door and Csara found out that Ed had a female accomplice. The sunburned clam, which technically should be named Hoenheim, answered no questions about his identity, and was apparently stoned out of his mind as Ed sat there cluelessly.
"My belly-shirt? Um, look whose talking, Godiva," Winry gestured at Csara's gaping cleavage. The Mary Sue reeled back with mock horror.
"OH! You did not! I see how it is! You're jealous that Ed is in love with ME instead of YOU!"
"Arrr," the Hoenheim-clam commented. "Da sea-sirens be a-screaming enough to raise a thousand gales from da west."
Ed looked at his father.
"I thought you were supposed to be a Jedi."
"ARRR! YE DO NOT QUESTION THE WISDOM OF DE CAPTAIN, LANDLUBBER!"
"I'm not jealous. I don't know where you got the idea that I'm in love with ED," said Winry, staring in fascination at the supercilious nymphomaniac.
"Well, you obviously are if you spend so much time with him! Little miss 'good friends!'"
"Not really…" Winry trailed off as Ed's voice cut through the throng of conversation.
"Wait, if you're a clam-ish thing, how did you conceive me and Al?" he asked.
"Arrr…the tale begins many winters ago with a Spanish galley and a mutiny not fit to see the light of day…" …the Hoenheim clam grew softer and Winry continued her sentence.
"See, I'm only friends with him because he had the best cookies in his lunch at preschool," she explained.
"Now he's pretty much our only source of income. I kinda make flaws in his automail so we rack up profits and put the blame on his overactive lifestyle."
Csara stared, the idea not tunneling its way through her head.
"Plus, he's fun to throw wrenches at."
To illustrate her point, Winry chose her hardest wrench and flung it at Ed. It cuffed him on the side of his head, knocking him off his chair. The Hoenheim-clam now had a hand-hook and bandana.
Winry turned back to Csara.
"See?"
Csara's eye was twitching. A girl not jealous of her relationships? Illogical and mind-blowing in every way!
"You see…." Winry crossed over to the room, stepped on Ed, and retrieved her wrench. Hoenheim-clam had unfathomably obtained a minute pirate hat.
"This wrench is the only one I love. We…we…we have something special…" Winry started to sniff, then she bawled and started to furiously make out with the tool.
"OH, WRENCH, TAKE ME, TAKE ME PLEASE!"
Csara stepped back, sweat-dropped, then grabbed Ed by his braid and ran like a shot from the house, through the countryside, and onto the train where she promptly sat on Ed's lap and made him tell her how pretty she was for the rest of the trip back to Central.
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"….so that's the secret of life," Alphonse said with wonder. "I guess I'd better stock up on weed-killer, then"
He and Dru, sitting at the exact same table as before, only littered with coffee cups and scone wrappers knee-deep, for they had not moved for five hours.
"Yup," said Dru, downing her 224th cup of coffee. "And if you're smart, tacky glue too."
Alphonse sighed, and read back two paragraphs from this sentence.
"FIVE HOURS?" he screamed out loud. "Oh, no, I have to find my brother!"
"The one who's in the clutches of that horrible Mary Sue?" asked Dru.
Alphonse nodded.
"Oh, these situations are so confusing," he whined. "First he's in love with Winry, then its Roy, then Winry, then ME, and then Envy! I just don't understand. I hope he doesn't lose his virginity, or something."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Dru said casually. "Edward Elric is asexual."
Alphonse stopped in mid-spaz-out.
"What?"
"Yes…" Dru smiled benignly. "Soon, the Fullmetal Alchemist will undergo mitosis, splitting his nucleus and genetic information, and sprout--"
--Alphonse's lower eyelid began to twitch--
"--long trailing stolans from which independent genetically identical organisms will break off from, much like the reproduction found common in vegetation, mold, sponges, water hydra, and certain types of garden snails."
"MY LIFE HURTS!" Alphonse screamed and rolled around on the floor clutching his head in pain.
"I'm sorry," Dru said placidly, in a way that made you wonder why she wasn't hyper from all the sugar.
She waited about 40 minutes for Alphonse to finish his little tirade, after which he stood up looking rather disheveled with coffee lids and sugar packets stuck in his hair.
"Alright?"
"Yeah…" Al scratched the back of his neck. "At least we don't have to worry about the Mary Sue now."
"Quite."
"So…." Al fidgeted. "Whaddaya want to do now?"
"Mmm….want to make out?"
"Hell yes."
And with that, Al grabbed Dru by her shoulders, swung her up and slammed her down on the top of the table, the descended upon her lips to grasp her tongue with his in the most perfectly professionally executed wriggly French kiss in all of history.
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A/N: :casually reading etymology: Hey, Evadne, light my fag.
Evadne: Hey, Malleri, stick a lighter up your butt and go play in a petrol rig.
Dru: PETROL BOY!
A/N: Lucifer and fags are interrelated. Hell and homosexuals. Oh, what a shrewd theocracy we have dominating our society.
Cyn: :;holding a sign and a megaphone: MOONDEITY IS AWARE OF THE HYPOCRICY!