Europeans… (7/?)
anonymous
October 2 2009, 00:19:09 UTC
“Well, you know, you really should plan for these sort of contingencies in your kidnappings.”
Alfred rolled his eyes and pressed the phone to his ear. “Well, Arthur, I didn’t exactly plan for him to keep being stubborn after I brought out the shotgun.”
There was a pause over the phone. “Wait,” Arthur said incredulously, suppressing laughter, “you actually threatened him with a gun?”
“Yeah!” America said defensively.
Arthur snorted. “Do you know anything about European history? You thought the shotgun would convince him?”
“Oh, shut up.” Alfred sighed and leaned across the kitchen table. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if they had McDonalds in Canada, and if there was one within walking distance of their hideout. “Any hints?”
Alfred could practically hear Arthur’s shrug over the phone. “How should I know?”
“Hey, you and Francis are the ones who said that this would be a good idea when we asked you!”
“I said it would be good in principle,” Arthur said calmly. “I said nothing of the application, which you two seem to have botched rather impressively.”
“Shut. Up,” he repeated. “Please, can you just help me?”
“Listen, Alfred,” Arthur said obviously, “I want that Dutch pervert away from my commonwealth as much as you do. But, sometimes you’ve got to paint with a finer brush.”
“Huh?”
“Have you thought about exiling him somewhere? China? The South Pole? Luxembourg?”
“I don’t know,” Alfred said tiredly. “Now I’ve got a guy tied up in the basement and Matthew’s gonna be coming to look for him soon.”
“Wait.” There was a crinkling sound as Arthur put his hand over his mouthpiece. “What?” he said, voice muffled. “Yes… No… No, of course not… Er… Okay, okay…” He moved away his hand and spoke to America. “Francis has some advice.”
“Lemme guess, it’s something horrifically unspeakable.” Arthur had already passed the phone.
“Allô,” Francis said. “So, you went through with it?”
“Yup.”
“You kidnapped Matthew’s petit ami?”
“Um, yeah, whatever.”
“Now you don’t know what to do?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hm.” Francis paused thoughtfully. “Well, you could send Matthew over to Paris with me, and I could-“
“Thanks for the help, Francis,” America said quickly. “But, I gotta go take care o’ the, uh, hostage situation. Bye!”
Alfred quickly pushed the end button on the phone. “Europeans,” he muttered to himself.
He leaned forward on his elbows and pushed back his hair, sighing tiredly. I’ve really gotta start thinking these things through.
His stomach grumbled hungrily and compelled him to his feet. He walked to the door of the basement and down the stairs. Miguel looked up from the metal folding chair as he entered.
“Hola,” he grumbled.
“Hey,” Alfred returned. Lukas looked up as well, but didn’t say anything, primarily due to the strip of duct tape over his mouth, Miguel and Alfred having eventually gotten tired of the European nation’s derisive sarcasm. Alfred studiously ignored him.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m going out for burgers. Want anything?”
“Bien,” Miguel muttered.
“Okey-dokey.” Lukas was sitting back in the chair he was tied to, looking up at the ceiling and tapping his feet in almost boredom.
Alfred paused awkwardly, then turned and walked back out of the basement and towards the front door.
Alfred rolled his eyes and pressed the phone to his ear. “Well, Arthur, I didn’t exactly plan for him to keep being stubborn after I brought out the shotgun.”
There was a pause over the phone. “Wait,” Arthur said incredulously, suppressing laughter, “you actually threatened him with a gun?”
“Yeah!” America said defensively.
Arthur snorted. “Do you know anything about European history? You thought the shotgun would convince him?”
“Oh, shut up.” Alfred sighed and leaned across the kitchen table. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if they had McDonalds in Canada, and if there was one within walking distance of their hideout. “Any hints?”
Alfred could practically hear Arthur’s shrug over the phone. “How should I know?”
“Hey, you and Francis are the ones who said that this would be a good idea when we asked you!”
“I said it would be good in principle,” Arthur said calmly. “I said nothing of the application, which you two seem to have botched rather impressively.”
“Shut. Up,” he repeated. “Please, can you just help me?”
“Listen, Alfred,” Arthur said obviously, “I want that Dutch pervert away from my commonwealth as much as you do. But, sometimes you’ve got to paint with a finer brush.”
“Huh?”
“Have you thought about exiling him somewhere? China? The South Pole? Luxembourg?”
“I don’t know,” Alfred said tiredly. “Now I’ve got a guy tied up in the basement and Matthew’s gonna be coming to look for him soon.”
“Wait.” There was a crinkling sound as Arthur put his hand over his mouthpiece. “What?” he said, voice muffled. “Yes… No… No, of course not… Er… Okay, okay…” He moved away his hand and spoke to America. “Francis has some advice.”
“Lemme guess, it’s something horrifically unspeakable.” Arthur had already passed the phone.
“Allô,” Francis said. “So, you went through with it?”
“Yup.”
“You kidnapped Matthew’s petit ami?”
“Um, yeah, whatever.”
“Now you don’t know what to do?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hm.” Francis paused thoughtfully. “Well, you could send Matthew over to Paris with me, and I could-“
“Thanks for the help, Francis,” America said quickly. “But, I gotta go take care o’ the, uh, hostage situation. Bye!”
Alfred quickly pushed the end button on the phone. “Europeans,” he muttered to himself.
He leaned forward on his elbows and pushed back his hair, sighing tiredly. I’ve really gotta start thinking these things through.
His stomach grumbled hungrily and compelled him to his feet. He walked to the door of the basement and down the stairs. Miguel looked up from the metal folding chair as he entered.
“Hola,” he grumbled.
“Hey,” Alfred returned. Lukas looked up as well, but didn’t say anything, primarily due to the strip of duct tape over his mouth, Miguel and Alfred having eventually gotten tired of the European nation’s derisive sarcasm. Alfred studiously ignored him.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m going out for burgers. Want anything?”
“Bien,” Miguel muttered.
“Okey-dokey.” Lukas was sitting back in the chair he was tied to, looking up at the ceiling and tapping his feet in almost boredom.
Alfred paused awkwardly, then turned and walked back out of the basement and towards the front door.
…Way over our heads…
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