Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Pillows
It was a few weeks after the “butterfly incident”. The office had finally calmed Breda down enough to stop trying to insulate the base with gummy bears. What looked to be a peaceful day of filling out papers was rudely interrupted by a “harmless” comment from Havoc. As he was trying lay his head down to take a nap on the desk he made the “harmless” comment. “This desk needs padding.”

“We are not padding the desk just so you can take a nap.” Farman sighed.

“But Mustang has a padded desk.”

“Those are for personal reasons,” Breda quotes with his fingers.

“Yeah, I bet he has at least five women a week,” Fury added. They stare at him and grin.

“Fury, I never figured you to come to the dark side.” Havoc commented scratching his chin.

“I had to say something.”

“Anyway, I was thinking one of those Squishy pillows.”

“Squishy pillows sir?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re all soft and squeezable.”

“I know what you’re talking about!” Breda adds excitedly. “I love those things! We should pad the desks with those!”

“We are not padding the desks with squishy pillows.” Farman groans.

Three hours later…

“I can’t believe we’re padding the desks with squishy pillows.” Farman groans.

“Oh lighten up!” Havoc cheerfully says. “This will be great!” Hawkeye enters the room.

“What are you fools doing now?” she groans.

“Padding the desk with squishy pillows!” Breda says excitedly.

“No they’re mine, MINE!” Fury yells from atop his mound of squishy pillows, he is coddling one as we speak.

“Give them back Cain.” Farman groans as he notices the look of war in the others, excluding Hawkeye’s, eyes.

“NEVER! My precious’ my precious’!”

“He’s lost it.”

“He never had it.” Breda growls. They inch toward the mound of pillows only to be stopped by a gunshot. They look up disbelievingly at the gun-wielding Fury.

“No! You won’t steal my precious’!” he cries stroking the pillows.

“What now?” Breda asks.

“We fight to liberate our squishy companions!” Havoc cries dawning war-paint without a shirt. “Hawkeye are you with us?!”

“No.”

“Ok, Breda, Farman Lets fight!”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Farman asks.

“No.”

“Ok, let’s get this over with.” They’re hiding behind the cabinets.

“What now?”

“We shoot him out of the sky.” Breda grins.

“Works for me.” Havoc says. The fight rages on for three weeks, no not really, but it seems like it to them because of their attention span. Nobody notices the cigarette butt falling onto the pile of squishy pillows. BOOOOMMMM!!!!! They all try to get up out of the pile of ashes and notice a tag falling from the sky. Farman picks it up.

“Do not expose products to flame, cigarettes, or excessive heat.” He groans. “Why didn’t we read this before?” They all look to the door as it falls off revealing Hawkeye and Mustang making out. They look over.

“Next time, pad the desks with regular padding.” Mustang says as he pulls a curtain shut.


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