A taste of a project
I write drabbles. They're nice and all, but sometimes I loose focus or drive and never finish. This one will finish soon, once I mix Winnie and Vinnie. Just to say, I love Soviet cartoons. This is just a snippit.
“Alfred, I seriously doubt that the artists of this age would purposely put such a statement in these cartoons unless they were aiming to keep their heads on their shoulders. I certainly would.” Russia picked up his couch-mate's Coke and sipped from it slowly. He'd never gotten used to the artificial sweetness, but it was conveniently there when the refrigerator was so far away. “I will admit that maybe some of my peoples' works were politically charged, but many free-lance projects were in your best interest. Even some of the commoners knew what I felt for you some days, but then again it would be nearly impossible to not know if I worked with them, now wouldn't it? I'm sure you've worked with your Walt Disney a few times, right? You could put your opinions in whenever you felt like it and say that it was all the playwright's idea, but it still doesn't mean that it isn't in your collective conscience somewhere. At least someone or some peoples have to find it true to be yours, right? That's what we are, a representation of the peoples, and that's why my works seem so conflicting to you. That's what they were at the time, conflicted.” Ivan watched the screen again, only realizing that he'd been sitting on the edge of the couch when the other nation pulled him back to relax with a look of slight worry on his face. It was also then that he noticed the dripping, crushed can in his fist.