Opening Night (1/??)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 17:13:40 UTC
Anon is sorry if it sucks. This should end up being about three parts, maybe four. That is, if it doesn't suck too much to continue. :D
When America had shown up at his door, large clump of tickets in one hand and a playbill in the other, and declared, “Germany! We’re going to see a play!” Germany had expected the other nation would demand he change from his exercise clothes -- something he could have worn to sleep in! - into something more formal. But America had simply grabbed Germany’s coat (and arm) and dragged Germany to a large (what was the American term? Double wide? What would you call double wide besides those older American women who complain loudly in restaurants?) limousine.
Already waiting for them, in the car, were about twenty others. Among their ranks Germany could make out the Italy brothers (by the yell of “Germany!!” with an audible second exclamation mark) and England, by his voice, and his grabbing America’s arm and saying “Are you sure you want to bring Germany to see this -- this --"
“Wonderful masterpiece of theatre? Of course!” America declared, smiling in his self-satisfied way. “American theatre is the best! Why would anyone not want to see it?! Silly England.”
While England sat back in his (remarkably uncomfortable) seat and muttered something Germany didn’t quite catch about silly England and bloody America and large pieces of metal, Germany tried unsuccessfully to ignore the dread building up around his intestinal area. After all, who knew who America would insult with his distinct lack of tact?
Germany looked around the car, and in the indistinct blur of the faces of innumerable nations (his eyesight had been fine two minutes ago, had it not? Why was sweat suddenly collecting around his nose?) he could only make out America's smiling face, and America (again?) looking embarrassed, horrified, and directly at him.
When America announced that they were finally at the theatre, he (as grateful as the others) piled out of the car. The 'theatre' America had promised them was not that large at all: it could definitely not have sat as many people as a German opera-house.
They crossed the road (in pairs, insisted America as he and America crossed the street, and look both ways before you do!), running like maniacs from a never-ending stream of enraged drivers. They finally walked inside to find many patrons of the great arts dressed in baggy sweatshirts and high-cut American skirts. America himself, however, was greeting someone who was dressed in a tux and seemed important.
"Mel!" America said, "how are you?"
"As fine as can be, Alfred," said the man, wiping his hands on his pants before shaking America's hand. "I'm running around like a man possessed trying to get this play up. I --"
"I brought my friends to see it!" America declared, interrupting the poor man. "I especially want you to meet my friend Ludwig!" and he gestured for Germany to come over. The sinking feeling was back in the pit of Germany's stomach.
"Your fri -- Ludwig, you say?" The man wiped his hands on his pants again as Germany came forward. "Nice to meet you," the man said, holing his hand out for Germany to shake.
Germany shook the man's hand. He said, "Alfred has told me how great his theatre is over here."
"You don't say," said the man, looking distracted. "Um, listen." The smaller man leaned forward conspiratorially. "If you are who I think you are, because Alfred does speak a little more than he should, then I think you'll want to know that the fire exit is going to be straight in an almost straight line to the right of your seat, and that the alarm doesn't go off when you open it."
"Thank you?" said Germany, unsure, but the man was already walking away. He turned back to the other nations (some of whom where whistling). He said to America, why exactly did you invite me to see this play?"
"It talks about you!" said America. "And I thought, man, Germany must love plays where they talk about him! I know I love movies when they talk about me. Oh say can you see --" America began to sing, his hand over his heart, when an woman spoke over the loudspeaker:
"Ladies and gentleman, if you would kindly take your seats, our show is about to begin!"
Re: Opening Night (1/??)
anonymous
May 24 2009, 15:56:18 UTC
""You don't say," said the man, looking distracted. "Um, listen." The smaller man leaned forward conspiratorially. "If you are who I think you are, because Alfred does speak a little more than he should, then I think you'll want to know that the fire exit is going to be straight in an almost straight line to the right of your seat, and that the alarm doesn't go off when you open it.""
When America had shown up at his door, large clump of tickets in one hand and a playbill in the other, and declared, “Germany! We’re going to see a play!” Germany had expected the other nation would demand he change from his exercise clothes -- something he could have worn to sleep in! - into something more formal. But America had simply grabbed Germany’s coat (and arm) and dragged Germany to a large (what was the American term? Double wide? What would you call double wide besides those older American women who complain loudly in restaurants?) limousine.
Already waiting for them, in the car, were about twenty others. Among their ranks Germany could make out the Italy brothers (by the yell of “Germany!!” with an audible second exclamation mark) and England, by his voice, and his grabbing America’s arm and saying “Are you sure you want to bring Germany to see this -- this --"
“Wonderful masterpiece of theatre? Of course!” America declared, smiling in his self-satisfied way. “American theatre is the best! Why would anyone not want to see it?! Silly England.”
While England sat back in his (remarkably uncomfortable) seat and muttered something Germany didn’t quite catch about silly England and bloody America and large pieces of metal, Germany tried unsuccessfully to ignore the dread building up around his intestinal area. After all, who knew who America would insult with his distinct lack of tact?
Germany looked around the car, and in the indistinct blur of the faces of innumerable nations (his eyesight had been fine two minutes ago, had it not? Why was sweat suddenly collecting around his nose?) he could only make out America's smiling face, and America (again?) looking embarrassed, horrified, and directly at him.
When America announced that they were finally at the theatre, he (as grateful as the others) piled out of the car. The 'theatre' America had promised them was not that large at all: it could definitely not have sat as many people as a German opera-house.
They crossed the road (in pairs, insisted America as he and America crossed the street, and look both ways before you do!), running like maniacs from a never-ending stream of enraged drivers. They finally walked inside to find many patrons of the great arts dressed in baggy sweatshirts and high-cut American skirts. America himself, however, was greeting someone who was dressed in a tux and seemed important.
"Mel!" America said, "how are you?"
"As fine as can be, Alfred," said the man, wiping his hands on his pants before shaking America's hand. "I'm running around like a man possessed trying to get this play up. I --"
"I brought my friends to see it!" America declared, interrupting the poor man. "I especially want you to meet my friend Ludwig!" and he gestured for Germany to come over. The sinking feeling was back in the pit of Germany's stomach.
"Your fri -- Ludwig, you say?" The man wiped his hands on his pants again as Germany came forward. "Nice to meet you," the man said, holing his hand out for Germany to shake.
Germany shook the man's hand. He said, "Alfred has told me how great his theatre is over here."
"You don't say," said the man, looking distracted. "Um, listen." The smaller man leaned forward conspiratorially. "If you are who I think you are, because Alfred does speak a little more than he should, then I think you'll want to know that the fire exit is going to be straight in an almost straight line to the right of your seat, and that the alarm doesn't go off when you open it."
"Thank you?" said Germany, unsure, but the man was already walking away. He turned back to the other nations (some of whom where whistling). He said to America, why exactly did you invite me to see this play?"
"It talks about you!" said America. "And I thought, man, Germany must love plays where they talk about him! I know I love movies when they talk about me. Oh say can you see --" America began to sing, his hand over his heart, when an woman spoke over the loudspeaker:
"Ladies and gentleman, if you would kindly take your seats, our show is about to begin!"
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I like this! Heh, your Mel Brooks is working really well in the fic too =D Please do continue!
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Totally America: "Behave, or we will make silly media about you!"
LOL at the fire exit! Ludwig's going to need to breath into a paper bag...
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Well, that's certainly good to know, eh?
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