SURPRISE! As I was sitting at my desk staring off into space and nursing a horrid head cold, the muse of fanfiction paid me a rather overdue visit. You, dear readers, are about to witness the hitherto unsuspected triumph of two chapters in one day. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Two. In return, I expect you all to feed me grapes as I recline on my chaise. Also,write me reviews. Scads of them.
"I love the stars," sighed Al. "Floating in space, millions of years old, and probably dead by now anyways. They make me feel so... small, like-"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE WOULDN'T EVEN HAVE TO TOUCH THE BOTTLE MARKED "DRINK ME" IN ORDER TO FIT THROUGH THE LITTLE DOOR?" Ed was having a rough day. After very little sleep the night before (he had spent five hours up a tree, insisting that "the wolves were going to get him") and an impressive thunderstorm (which scared him almost as much as the dark), he was just about ready to call it a day. His humor was definitely suffering.
"Ok, that one wasn't even funny."
Al too had had a rough night. Coaxing Ed down from the tree hadn't been easy, and dealing with his brother's unreasonable fear of shadows, blowing leaves, and nocturnal mice hadn't put him in the best of moods. His patience was even worse than Ed's humor.
"Shit. I think I'm losing my touch. You know, it really isn't my fault. As far as comic relief goes, what have I got to work with? Short jokes. Short jokes and Winry beating me with a wrench. My life sucks..."
"Here we go again! Ed, what do you not understand about this complaining thing? I understand puberty is a difficult time, but really, why are you whining at me? I'm the one trapped in the tin can! I can't even sleep!"
"My mom is dead!"
"Um...so is mine."
"I have guilt issues!"
"I haven't eaten in over three years!"
"I have unfortunate bangs!"
"That's your fault, not mine!"
"Oh yeah? Well, I-"
"Winry! When did you get here?"
Winry straightened her bandana and pointlessly tied her overalls around her waist.
"Nothing much. I was bored. I've never been camping before. Hey, what does this do? "E-M-E-R-G-E-N-" Whoops! Sorry guys!"
Al stared at the remains of his tent with a sad droop in his soggy feather.
"That took me an hour to set up." He gave a long, drawn out sigh and flopped to the ground with a clank.
"That's quite enough, you two. Pathetic. Here you are, supposed to be doing something vaguely important, and all you can do is mope." Winry rolled her eyes and pulled a wrench out of her back pocket as Ed backed away in barely concealed panic.
"Oh yeah? What are you doing here, huh? Why is it that you always show up when we don't need you? Me and Al were doing just fine before you randomly popped in to flip out at us over our lack of productivity. God, Winry. You're so-"
*thunk*
"What was that for?" Ed wailed as he held his hand to his head in an attempt to relieve the swelling of the exaggerated lump forming on his forehead.
"Nothing in particular. As you said yourself, you've only got two forms of humor- short jokes and wrench beatings. Your attempt to be funny was, quite honestly, extremely lame, so I'm trying to remedy the situation. Got a problem with that?"
"No offense, Ed, but she's right. This chapter is terrible so far and Winry might be our only hope for survival."
"But that isn't your job! You're not even involved in our missions!" Ed was obviously struggling with the fact that he failed at something.
"What is my job then, smart-ass? I've got two things I have to do- fix your automail and have apple pie waiting when you finish saving the world. Your automail isn't broken right now, and you couldn't save a dollar if your life depended on it. Plus baking isn't really my thing anyways. So deal with my presence. Trust me, I'm only making this story better."
"Not to mention romantic tension between you and Ed!" squealed Al with glee.
"Um, gross." said Winry.
"EEWWWW! GIRLS!" shrieked Ed as he hid under the tent remains.
"This is so cute, you don't even know." giggled Al, as small pink imaginary hearts popped like bubbles against the sky.
Pink bubbles were not popping against the sky as Riza tried to teach the colonel how to steer a canoe.
"No, you move the opposite paddle to steer left. Opposite, sir. That would be the right paddle, sir. Other one. THE RIGHT FUCKING PADDLE, SIR!"
"Good lord, Hawkeye. I know my directions." ROy grumbled as he gave the left paddle a hefty tug. No one had followed her instructions of "two to a canoe". Maes was in his own canoe, frantically paddling in circles while snapping pictures of the "wildlife", namely one half-bald duck that didn't look like it was all there. Everyone else had piled into a canoe with Armstrong, who was somehow wielding six paddles at the same time.
Riza resigned herself to the unpleasant truth; they were halfway across a large, cold body of water, it was getting dark very quickly, and no one had remembered the bug spray.
Ain't that life, folks?
