AN: Hello my friends! Tis me, yes me, the one and only me! Mwahahahhahahaha! Can you tell I'm really bored right now? Either really bored… or really crazy. Maybe both?

The Way to a Man's Heart Isn't by Crushing His Ego Chapter 26: If You Can't Stand the Heat, then Stay Out of the Kitchen!

"Let's go!" Hughes said in a macho voice as he and Havoc stepped forward, they opened the door and a bright light appeared, covering everything in the area, including themselves.

Once inside the door the light faded and everything became visible. Hughes stood with his mouth hanging open. It was like he had found the kingdom in the Wizard of Oz, or something to that effect.

"Hm?" Havoc said as he stared at Hughes. "Uh... sir?" he asked as he began waving his hand in front of Hughes' face. The dark haired major didn't move an inch. It looked as if he was hypnotized. "….Uh….?"

"It's beautiful isn't it, Lieutenant?" Hughes said as he stared, his light yellow eyes wide and full of awe.

"Hm?" Havoc asked as he turned around. It was the same room they sat in everyday at meal time. Why was Hughes so impressed today? Even if it was his first time in the mess hall, which it wasn't, it still wasn't anything to be shocked about. There were no fancy lights, awesome music, girls in mini skirts, there wasn't even any good food. The room was large and made of old white bricks. The white paint was beginning to fade, leaving the walls appearing to be a light gray. Rows of bright lights strung across the ceiling, making the room very bright. The floor was gray and looked to be a bunch of big pieces of tile fitted together in no special order, just pushed together to cover the floor. In the room sat long tables that stretched across most of the room and an endless supply of stools were pushed under them. There were also windows on one end of the room, revealing the hallway on the other side of the mess hall. Soldiers were already filling the tables and eating their meals that were said to be edible, but didn't taste like it. In the military, if you didn't die from food poisoning, then it's ok to eat. "It's lunch time?" Havoc asked as he glanced at the clock that hung on the wall.

"No!" Hughes replied as he raised one arm in the air and his glasses lit up. "It's the perfect time! Dinner time! The chefs are busying serving supper! We can sneak in and out unnoticed!"

"I see," Havoc replied. He reached in his pocket, looking for a cigarette. An annoyed expression appeared on his face when he remembered Hughes had stolen them.

"Come and follow me!" Hughes said. He was loud and irritating when he spoke. From the looks of it he was going to burst into the kitchen and go into a deadly battle with the chefs, you know, like in the movies. His glasses flashed a beam of light one final time.

"Uh…" Havoc said as he watched Hughes. He stood in the same position for a few minutes, as if he was pondering what he was going to do.

"Come on, Havoc," he whispered in a voice so quiet you could barley hear him over the other soldiers' conversations combined with the crunching on overcooked food and pieces of silverware hitting together.

"Yes, sir," Havoc replied. Hughes then started off. He was tiptoeing through the mess hall toward the kitchen door. Havoc just stared at him. I really wish I had a cigarette. I think the withdrawal is making me see things. Is he really tiptoeing through the mess hall or am I going mad? He wondered, not moving from his current spot.

"Come on, Havoc. This is our big chance," Hughes whispered again as he quietly put his hand on the kitchen door. His body pressed up against the wall beside it, only his hand touched the door. He was really serious about his. It looked as if there was an armed gunman on the other side ready to kill whoever opened the door. He pushed the door open slowly. It made a loud creak noise. Hughes flinched at the loud sounds and quickly looked over toward the chefs, who were out of the kitchen serving the food. Good, there's a long line of poor souls... oh! Uh… I mean soldiers wanting to be served. He thought to himself as he slipped in and motioned to Havoc with his hand that it was clear and that he should follow.

The things I put up with. Havoc thought with a sigh as he followed the Major into the kitchen that was said to be off limits. He knew Hughes was just making a joke out of something ridiculous. That's just the kind of man Hughes was, and that's also the reason why so many people either loved him to death, or hated his guts and wanted him to burn in hell.

Havoc walked into the kitchen. It was a good size. There were two long counters that sat in the middle of the room and stretched all the way down to the other end of the kitchen, the tops of the counters were sliver plated. The chefs cooked on the silver countertops. In the cabinets below and lined on the walls of the kitchen were pots, pans, plates, any kind of dish imaginable. The floor was an ugly red square tile. They could see pieces of lettuce and other various foods stuck in the dark cracks. In the back of the room was a door. That's where the shipments came in. On the white painted walls were also white cabinets. They were full of all sorts of spices and food that didn't need to be refrigerated. Against the back wall was a huge stove. It stretched across the whole wall with all sorts of different types of burners. Under the burners were two or three huge ovens, there was a chicken cooking in one of the three ovens.

That's so going to turn black before it comes out of there… disgusting. Havoc thought to himself as the smell of burnt chicken filled his nostrils. Behind him and beside the door he entered through there was a large sink. In it sat a few dirty dishes. On the silver plated sink sat the orange dish soap as well a sponge to wash out the pots and pans. Havoc looked around, but didn't see Hughes.

"Psst…. Psst… Havoc," Hughes whispered.

"Hm?" Havoc looked around confused. He could hear Hughes, but he couldn't see him.

"PSST!" the hissing sound echoed through the kitchen. "Down here…."

"Sir?" Havoc asked as he walked down the small isle between the two counters. As he walked toward the end of the isle he felt a sudden tug on his pant leg. "Hm?" he looked down.

"Hide," Hughes whispered as he tugged on Havoc's leg. He was sitting in one of the cabinets under the counter that had sliding doors. His hand and head peeked out of the sliding door. The rest of his body was smashed inside along with the bigger pots. One of the pots sat on his head, covering the top of his eyes and pressing his square-shaped glass hard against his nose.

"How did you get in there?" Havoc asked as he bent over to look Hughes in the face. His position looked all but comfortable.

"Hurry, hide!" Hughes hissed again. Then his pointed to the clock on the wall. He was careful not to point to far, in fear his arm would slip out and he wouldn't be able to pull his elbow back in the crammed space. "It's almost time for the chefs to come back."

"Really? Already?" Havoc asked as he stood up straight again and diverted his attention toward the clock. "Oh it is. I'm sure the chefs here would be happy to lend yo-"

Slap!

Havoc was cut off from his sentence as he felt a fierce slap on his back. "HEY!" he shouted as he turned around fast. Behind him stood a chef, as tall as he was wide, his tall figure towered over Havoc.

The chef's build was much like that of Armstrong's only a bit taller and a head full of black hair, covered by those ugly, tall, white chef's hat. You know the Pillsbury Dough Boy kind. His eyes were a piercing shade of an ugly dark green.

"Hmmmmmm…." the large chef growled. His face glaring down at Havoc's, mere inches away. Havoc could feel the chef's hot breath steaming down his neck. "What are you doing in here? This place is off limits to the likes of you," his deep voice boomed. A small slapping sound was heard. Havoc glanced down. In the man's hand was a pink flyswatter. He was slapping it against the counter next to them.

Wow…. I'm glad that's not me right now. Hughes thought to himself. He had closed the cupboard door just before the chef noticed he was there.

"Uh…" Havoc began as he stared at the chef's angry face. He was very nervous at this point, and dying for a cigarette. Oh please let this be a symptom of withdrawal. Please… Havoc prayed to himself. When he saw the frightening image in front of him wasn't disappearing he began to speak, it was a nervous slurred sound, but speaking none the less. "I'm s-sorry, sir… but I was j-just trying to get a spatula. I was ordered to by a M-Major…"

"You were trying to steal one of my spatulas?" the chef asked. His voice deep and gruff.

"Steal is such an ugly word," Havoc began but was cut off with another slap.

"Move, boy!" the chef snapped as he smacked Havoc with the flyswatter again. This slap hit him in the side.

"Ouch, that hurt!" Havoc snapped. He was brought out of his fear by pain and he glared at the chef. A new burst of pride and courage raced through his veins as adrenaline pumped through his system.

"I said move!" the chef yelled angrily.

"Make me!" Havoc snapped back, standing his ground firmly.

Pure hate and rage over took the chef's face as he lifted his deadly swatter high in the air and brought it down hard on Havoc, slapping him on the left shoulder. Then a loud slap was heard, louder then all the other. Hughes sweared you could hear it echoing through the halls.

"Ahhh! Ouch! Ok! I give! I give!" Havoc shouted as he turned tail and ran. The chef was hot on his heels.

"Come back here!" the chef yelled as he chased Havoc around the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans falling on tile was heard as they ran wildly through the isles.

"But you just told me to move!" Havoc replied in a frantic attempt to get away. "Owww! Oh watch it with that thing!" Havoc snapped as another sharp pain hit him in the right side of his back. The slaps were hard and deadly, through they were just a quick swat the pain remained for at least five minutes. It felt like he had a really bad sunburn and was then sung by a bee on top of it. "AHHH!"

"Come here, boy!" the chef shouted again as the sound of falling pans radiated through the room. Once it sounded like all the pans in the joint had fallen to the ground at once Hughes thought it was time to take a peek.

He slowly slid the door open; just enough that his little gold eyeball could see the area.

"Oh please stop! It hurts!"

Slap!

"GAHHHHHHHH!"

Are they killing him? Hughes wondered. He slid the door open a little farther.

"AHHHHH! Come on, let me go!" Havoc shouted.

Hughes finally caught a glimpse of them. He tried with all his might not to laugh. Havoc was clinging to one of the counter tops. It didn't take Hughes long to figure out Havoc's attempted plan. Havoc was planning on jumping on the countertop and sliding over, leaving the chef on the other side. Havoc tried to jump over, but the chef grabbed him by the jacket before he could make it over. Havoc was now clinging to the other side of the counter for dear life as the chef tried to pry him off with one hand, while swatting him with the other.

Slap!

"MAAAAAHHHHH!"

Slap!

"Would you cut it out?"

SLAP!

"Ouchhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Man, that stings!"

"AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!" Hughes couldn't help himself. This was just too funny. Never in his life had he ever seen a solider being beaten down by a chef, and with a flyswatter. "Hahahahahahah," he continued laughing, little did he know the second chef had entered the room. He was about to go help his friend when he heard Hughes's laughter. This chef was very short, shorter then Ed. (I know Ed's not in here, just making a reference). He wore the same white chef uniform the first chef did, but his had a few red and yellow stains on it. His eyes were a pale blue and his hair was a dark brown, pulled back into a ponytail and covered by a black hair net, he almost looked like he was a member of the midget mafia. He was short indeed, but his appearance looked to be a mobster. He looked down the row and saw a little of Hughes' body sticking out from the cabinet. He quietly snuck around side of the counter opposite the side Hughes' was on.

"Get me out of here!" Havoc shouted. The chef had managed to pull Havoc off the counter top and was now chasing him around the kitchen again. "Whoa!" Havoc yelled as he almost tripped over a pan that lay on the floor. He regained his balance and took off once again. The chef following close behind, not tripping over any of the pans that lay scattered on the tile floor.

"Hahahahahahahahah!" Hughes continued laughing. He was clutching his sides. Oh it hurts to laugh. He said as he wiped a small tear away from his eye.

Cccccccccrrrrrrrreeeeak.

A little noise was heard. Hughes didn't notice over his laughter and Havoc's shouts, but the second chef had opened the door behind Hughes. There were doors on both sides of the counters. Hughes hadn't noticed this minor detail.

"Hehehehe," the short chef chuckled evilly. He glared at Hughes, who still hadn't noticed he was there. "Hehhehehehe," he continued this little giggle as he reached up on the counter, almost having to stand all the way up to reach the silver plated top. He flashed an evil smile as he grabbed a big two prong fork. It was the type of fork you used to roast marshmallows or hotdogs over the fire when you went camping. The chef then bent back down toward Hughes. His eyes flashed evilly again as he pulled out the fork, it sparkled and shined in the light. Ok, Mr. Military man, say hello to my lil' friend. He thought in his mob accent as he thrust the fork forward and into the right side of Hughes' buttocks.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hughes shouted louder then Havoc ever had. He jumped up fast and his head hit the inside of the counter top. His head bashed against the top hard, leaving an indentation that shown brightly against the reflecting light of the silver plated top. "Ayyyeeeeeeee," he whined as he rubbed his sore butt, then his sore head. He peeked out of the cabinet and at the small chef. An irritated looked appeared over his face and he got out of the small space, taking some pans down with him. He towered over the small chef as he stood up straight. Hughes glared down at the small mobster, his face serious and angry as leaned over to he was almost even with man's eyes. The man had to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling to see Hughes' towering glare.

"Hm?" the chef replied in an annoyed fashion as he returned Hughes glare, unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Sir, you have just punctured the most holy of places. Now you must pay!" Hughes shouted in his angry yet comical voice. One flip of his wrist and a little dragger like knife came shooting out of his sleeve and into his hand. A smirk then appeared on his face.

"Really?" the chef replied with a smirk of his own. He then raised his deadly two pronged fork and pointed it at Hughes. "We who are about to die, salute you!" he shouted a battle cry of the gladiators.

Hughes nodded as he and the little man began clashing eating utensils.

AN: So what did you think? Funny? Not funny? Stupid? Lol, tell me! Sorry I couldn't finish this chapter. It was getting too long for one chapter alone. It will continue next time. We will probably see Riza and Roy in the next chapter too, but I'm not promising anything!