AN: Howdy y'all I decided to revist this fic. My cousin is spending the night and she told me that wanted to read the next chapter. Since It doesn't take that long to write a story about Edward with a god-complex, I told her that I would. This one is for my cousin. Love ya, boo ^.^
Dear Handy-Dandy Notebook,
I recently visited teacher's house again, and guess what I found on my old bed, right on top of my pillow? You! We're reunited 'ol buddy 'ol pal. I've gotten soooo much better at alchemy that they practically worship me across the desert to Xing. I mean one day I'm like gonna visit Xerxes and they'll have a fucking shrine dedicated to me. It'll reach to the gates with my glory! I bet Truth is sitting up there wishing he had eaten me when he had the chance. Now I'm so famous that if anything ever happens to me (which it obviously never will) that the world wouldn't be able to take it. Amestris would be in an Apocalyptic state. It would be terrible! I mean Zombie outbreaks everywhere! And the worst part is that I wouldn't be there to see it. I think I heard Al's armor just sneeze from across the room. He thinks I'm writing in my research journal…..if he only knew. Wait a fucking damn millisecond. Al can't fucking sneeze. He's a goddamn suit of armor. I swear if I fucking go over there and there is a cat in his armor, I'm going to bond his soul to one of Musty's gloves. He'll have to spend every day pressed against Mustang's nasty ass hand that he probably uses to jack off with every five seconds…OH MY FUCK! That's probably why Mustang never gets any work done. The nasty perv ( I knew it!) I solemnly swear that I will never shake another hand again without pouring hand sanitizer into their eyes! I mean my hand is made of fucking metal and I never want to touch a human being again. I mean Pacific Rim Job. This explains why Jean always gives Mustang lotion every year. I'm going to vomit. I'll be right back, I need to boil my eyes and then soak them in alcohol, set them on fire, and then boil them again if I'm EVER going to get that image out of my head.
Update: I came back from refreshing my memory on what I had for breakfast….it was an omelet. Guess what I found in Al's armor while I was gone? That' right, Diary. Another fucking cat. I mean what is wrong with Al? I love him and all, but I will bond his armor to Mustang's perverted gloved hand. I made him go do something useful in the time being. Being the responsible, older brother that I am, I try to remind him that his chores are important, and so is getting his homework done. I never forget to remind him that sex leads to crabs, and that thugs lead to drugs. Fighting is dangerous, especially if you could get a boo-boo. I can't let wittle baby Allie-poo get a boo-boo. He could be hurt! His precious wittle face with those puppy dog eyes would never be the same! I mean it's not like he's wearing a suit of armor or anything! I'd need to wrap him in bubble wrap. I love bubble wrap. It's like the best thing ever. One time at the State Alchemist yearly gala, I was clad only in bubble wrap and danced to the sounds of ice tea being stirred while preforming my famous lawn chair handcuff dance. It was fabulous. I was fabulous Even though I didn't win the fucking talent show. Some bozo one FIRST FUCKING PLACE with his damn magic show. Like what the actual flying sex snakes! We're alchemists. Everything we do is practically magic. I had to go home with a lovely participation ribbon that told everyone I was a failure. I didn't get out of my sock drawer for three whole days. I just wanted to stay there forever. I still don't know how the most amazing person on the face of the earth didn't win first place. I'll show that damn Armstrong up if it's the last thing I do! Well, I gotta split, Diary. Al needs his big, brave, strong, handsome, incredible, smooth, chick-magnet of a brother to come help him with some trivial matter that I can take care of in no time. I mean I am practically a god after all, remember? They're totally worshipping me in Xerxes. I can't wait to visit and see my shrine. I keep trying to tell people it's there, but they just insist that it was wiped out in a day. Ppssshhh yeah right. Nothing can be wiped out in a day unless the incredible Edward Elric had something to do with it. Just ask Musty and the military repair funds!
Until next time, Journal,
Edward Elric