Well, one of my friends told me that she was going to make me write and then shoved the computer at me, so I kind of had to even though I had no idea what to write about, hence the nonsense that follows. This is the result of someone coming out of writer's block and not yet taking writing seriously again, hehe.

Anyway, I had never written from Roy's POV before, so I figured I might as well give it a shot, even if I'm writing crack and so making the character a bit twisted. Roy makes for a very seriously insane crack fic though. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and hopefully I can get back into the swing of writing a lot soon.

Disclaimer: I haven't done one of these in ages, so I'm a bit rusty at creative disclaimers. ((Holds up disclaimer covered with rust.)) See what I mean? The "don't" has been rusted over leaving just, "I own Fullmetal Alchemist", though I might be okay with that.

June 28th, --- Uh, I forget the year. It doesn't really matter anyway, as I'm probably going to die soon. I guess breeding Ishbalan penguins was a bad idea. They turn against their owners at such a young age, and all because I tried to explain to them that fish don't naturally grow in the desert and so shouldn't be part of their diet. I'm not sure how I would've grown fish even if they hadn't been in the desert though. Are there such things as fish seeds?

And then Mr. I-am-so-full-of-metal-that-I-even-have-it-in-my-name didn't help the situation. He just laughed at me. Laughed! What kind of treatment is that for his all around overseer? Some subordinate he is. I'll make sure he never gets promoted. Not until he respects the fine art of penguin breeding.

And before you laugh, yes, it really is an art. Have you ever tried to milk a penguin? No? Well there you have it. And let me tell you, it's not pretty. People think this eye patch came from the casualties of war. Oh no. It is the result of a much greater evil. I wear it as a badge of pride. I have met the enemy and have returned alive to tell about it, though now my dreams are troubled with black and white.

I seem to be writing as though I expect someone to read this later. Maybe I've gained some sort of psychic precognition due to penguin bite, or maybe it's just a symptom of penguin dementia that has left me forgetting that this journal doesn't understand a word I say. Whatever it is, leave MetalBrain out of this. He'll just volunteer the second option. He doesn't respect The Penguin.

The Penguin is not something to be taken lightly. The Penguin is almighty. It sees all, it knows all, and it does all to anyone who dares to transgress. The Penguin must be feared. And revered. The Penguin must be feared-revered.

And once you've feared-revered The Penguin, you must grow a beard, and therefore obtain the mark of the feared-revered-beard. This earns a cry of delight from The Penguin, and you can rest in peace knowing that they have feared-revered-beard-cheered.

Though if you have poor taste in beards, they'll likely alter their cry into the feared-revered-weird-beard-cheered, which is less common, and not as desirable as the standard version. All the same, it at least means they won't steal your lunch. Not today, anyway.

But take my advice, if they do steal your lunch, don't watch them. The last thing you want to get is the feared-revered-weird-beard-cheered-peered. If you do this, they will lunge at you and give you a deadly dose of Penguinitis as they nip you to death. You can temporarily thwart death by steering away from them, or the feared-revered-weird-beard-cheered-peered-steered, but death is imminent once The Penguin has set eyes on you.

The Penguin has taken over my life. I cannot escape it, and Mr. MetalArm has no clue what I am going through. I am going insane! The Penguin has taken control!

Until next time,

Roy Mustang

P.S. Colonel, you're not going insane, you've been insane, at least as long as I've known you. ---Ed

P.P.S. Ah, that explains where my insanity came from. Thank you, Fullmetal.

P.P.P.S Where did your insanity come from? Oh, wait. Nevermind. Lame. I'm gonna go see what Al's doing now. You creep me out.

P.P.P.P.S. My work is done.

So is Roy sane or not? Eh... even I'm not sure anymore. You decide. Let me know if you like this enough to want me to continue this or if just the one journal entry is enough, because I have no plans either way. Suggestions are good too. Thanks for reading, and see you all later!