Petoria and the Battle for Liberty (2/?)
anonymous
November 13 2009, 15:13:40 UTC
Well... here's more. Yeah... I need help.
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Petoria and the Battle for Liberty (2)
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It was four in the morning and America's phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
America groaned, rolling over and dragging a pillow over his head. The phone stopped after a few more rings and the room fell silent. He waited a few more minutes, then let the pillow fall aside, curling up under his blanket.
The cellphone on his bedside table started to play the Imperial March, and America stared forlornly at the ceiling, sighing softly before he slowly reached out to pick it up. He flipped it open with an easy flick of his wrist. "Why do you hate me, England?"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before England's voice finally came through, "I'd answer that, but we don't have all day." America shifted, preparing to fling the cell across the room, but he was drawn up short by what England said next. "I just want to know why there's a fat guy on my doorstep claiming he's your son."
Thunk. The phone fell from his suddenly limp fingers and hit the side of the bed, bouncing off to land open on the floor.
"-and then he started talking to me in this ridiculous attempt at a British accent and called me grandfather-"
America felt little cracks starting to seep across his brain. His hand twitched.
"-well excuse me. 'Granddaddy', apparently. Good God, I don't know your ridiculous vernacular! I say, don't touch tha-" CRASH
The sounds of things breaking came loud and clear over the phone, but America didn't even flinch.
"Oh for heaven's... Spotted Dick is a dish, not an STD!"
Twitch. Twitch.
"America, I demand you come here and remove this lunatic!"
There was a thunk as America fell over, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor headfirst to lie there in a twitching, whimpering heap.
"America? Are you even listening? America!"
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Not really any Petoria this chapter, but I needed to have America brain-breakage. He will be in the next part though!
-
Petoria and the Battle for Liberty (2)
-
It was four in the morning and America's phone was ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
America groaned, rolling over and dragging a pillow over his head. The phone stopped after a few more rings and the room fell silent. He waited a few more minutes, then let the pillow fall aside, curling up under his blanket.
The cellphone on his bedside table started to play the Imperial March, and America stared forlornly at the ceiling, sighing softly before he slowly reached out to pick it up. He flipped it open with an easy flick of his wrist. "Why do you hate me, England?"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before England's voice finally came through, "I'd answer that, but we don't have all day." America shifted, preparing to fling the cell across the room, but he was drawn up short by what England said next. "I just want to know why there's a fat guy on my doorstep claiming he's your son."
Thunk. The phone fell from his suddenly limp fingers and hit the side of the bed, bouncing off to land open on the floor.
"-and then he started talking to me in this ridiculous attempt at a British accent and called me grandfather-"
America felt little cracks starting to seep across his brain. His hand twitched.
"-well excuse me. 'Granddaddy', apparently. Good God, I don't know your ridiculous vernacular! I say, don't touch tha-" CRASH
The sounds of things breaking came loud and clear over the phone, but America didn't even flinch.
"Oh for heaven's... Spotted Dick is a dish, not an STD!"
Twitch. Twitch.
"America, I demand you come here and remove this lunatic!"
There was a thunk as America fell over, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor headfirst to lie there in a twitching, whimpering heap.
"America? Are you even listening? America!"
-
Not really any Petoria this chapter, but I needed to have America brain-breakage. He will be in the next part though!
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I absolutely adore you, authornon. Here, you can take your choice of my firstborn, my soul, or all my blood.
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Poor America. Poor England. Poor world.
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