This is the last Cake Story part, I swear! This is the epilogue! Now read!

However, if you dislike the mental image of Envy floating out of Mustang's nose, you might want to skip that part. It's the fourth paragraph, by the way. And sorry if the image is already in your head ^^U...

Roy groaned and cracked his eyes open, to look at his "normal" inner office.

It was in shambles.

At some point while he had been unconcious, the form of the Fuhrer, still inexplicably attached to the ceiling, had produced a piece of sidewalk chalk from seemingly nowhere and had doodled bright magenta unicorns and the words "I GOTZ CHALK, BITCHESSSS!" around the room.

And that's when Envy floated out of Roy's nose. For some reason, the colonel did not even think to ask "What the hell!" He could swear he distinctly heard the homunculus mutter, "Screw this shit, I got Mr. Clean..."

Suddenly, heavy gauntlets appeared and began to attempt to beat the man's forehead in. Roy could swear he felt his brain jiggle around in his skull, clearly unhappy with the treatment. But strangely, it tickled. And Roy found himself giggling uncontrollably as he was repeatedly battered upside the face by Barry's metal fists from hell.

Detachedly, he noticed Barry's knife had somehow cut the armor in half, so that there was a sizeable diagonal gash in his torso. Peeking out of the gap, was Lieutenant Hawkeye, with a "I am so stoned, man" expression on her face.

At that point, Heymans Breda jumped in abruptly from the far corner, and grabbed Barry's head, jamming it onto his own skull, and jumping out the window, spraying strangely candy-colored glass all over everyone. As soon as Breda was clear of the glass and was falling to his death from the high floor of the office, the shattered splinters of the window reformed immediately and left the glass pane appearing as though a second lieutenant had not jumped through it.

Then, without breaking the pane of glass in the door to the inner office, he flew through, at the exact same speed he had been travelling when he'd hit the main window. If anyone in the room at that moment had ever played a game of Portal, it would remind them of that a lot.

During all of this, Edward had been crouched in a corner with chalky words of "Emo Corner (of doom)" scrawled above him. He was muttering to himself in a very deranged manner, probably having had his mind unhinged by whatever events had taken place.

"...I will have my revenge... I'm just waiting on my evil army of two inch monkeys because they got sidetracked at FREAKING STARBUCKS!"

"Eh, he'll be fine..." Mustang muttered, turning his attention to the fact that Winry Rockbell had just floated in through the telephone. She took one look at Edward's missing arm, or rather where that missing arm should have been, and screeched, wielding a monkey wrench five times the size of Armstrong.

Hawkeye watched his and did not feel in the least responsible.

(A/N: ...I don't know what the hell is in Mountain Dew, but it's causing some freaky shit, I'm tellin' ya. My stepbrother says he's hallucinating, sitting behind Mustang's desk, and witnessing all of this as it unfolds)

Yelling erupted on the ceiling, and everyone present snapped their eyes up and saw Bradley, leader of the country and on any other day such a stoic man, in, to quote the co-author, the "Most Epic Brawl of the Millenium," with Second Lieutenant Havoc. Clutched in Havoc's fingers were handfuls of colorful crayons, and smeared across his face was a mess of chalky dust. He was screeching in an ungodly tone, "GIMME BACK MY GIRLFRIEND, MUSTANG!" as he painted the Fuhrer's face a waxy teal color. Bradley, strangely (but then again what part of this is normal?), was giggling like a schoolgirl as he graffitied the lieutenant's forehead with the words "I'm a boot."

Outside the door, Falman was on the floor, in the fetal position. Rocking back and forth he whispered, "I just beat down Mew-Two and called it a hoebag... I just beat down Mew-Two and called it a hoebag..."

Suddenly, Roy sat straight up, not aware of when he had laid back down. The office was no longer surrounding him, and anyone who had been in it was nowhere to be seen. Glancing around him, he found the room he was in to be very familiar, although the bed whose foot he was hanging off of was not his own.

A black and white blur of fur bounded into the room and promptly began to try and lick his face off.

"Down, Black Hayate!" Roy ordered. The dog obeyed, but he hesitated. Roy was obviously no Riza Hawkeye.

That's when it hit him. He was in Hawkeye's apartment.

"No more sleeping with miniskirts for me..." he vowed. But he turned right around and said, "Oh, who am I kidding?" Snuggling up with a skirt that had come from a questionable location, he settled back down to sleep.

... Just... don't ask. We know less than you do, probably.

I need to stop writing Roy-centric stuff...

FMA no belong to me, okay? But I would buy it with food if I could. My stepbrother told me to type that.

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