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Mustang’s Tattoo


"I heard he has one," said Havoc in the break room. It was just the men today, sitting around drinking coffee and playing cards and waiting for the paint to peel or the Fuhrer-in-Training to request they do something. If Hawkeye had been there, Havoc wouldn't have brought up the subject.

"That must have hurt," said Fury, blushing.

Breda and Farman started laughing uncontrollably. "You've seen this?" Breda asked.

"Hell no," said Havoc quickly, almost losing his cigarette. "This guy down in the motor pool has a girlfriend who said her friend dated him once and...experienced it."

"Who is him?" asked Ed, walking in the door with manila files under his arm and a pencil shoved through the top of his braid. "And what does he have that has you all laughing yourself sick over?"

Breda suddenly adjusted his collar and Farman made a quick Ix-nay sign, but Havoc didn't notice and went on. "Mustang has a tattoo."

"A tattoo?"

"An array tattooed on his body, in a very, er, personal masculine spot."

Ed's jaw dropped. "You're kidding. What the heck would that be for?"

Breda couldn't contain himself; he fell off the table he'd been sitting on and rolled with hysterics on the floor.

"From what... I hear...." gasped Havoc, "it's for HER pleasure."

"Well, that's just a load of crap," said Ed indignantly. "He doesn't have anything tattooed down there."

There was sudden silence in the room. Ed suddenly flushed, grabbed his paperwork and exited the room, trying to ignore the roar of laughter he left in his wake.