Re: UNITED IN PERVERSITY
anonymous
July 20 2009, 11:57:45 UTC
“You bastard! You tomato pervert! Damn you and all your communities!” The unmistakable voice and the weight currently pinning him to the ground and crushing his ribcage were the most familiar things in this blessed world. “Hola, Romano!” Hands trying to strangle him, that was new though. “Hola yourself and your mum! You've always been the Europerv number one, but now you've done it!” Antonio distinctly heard France from across the room protesting that England holds an honorary degree of Master of Perviness. England objected and the room got even more lively. Antonio gripped Romano's hands and he vaguely noticed concerned faces of not-yet-fighting nations - Portugal was cheering − and tried to pry the Italian's hands away from his throat. “Romano, what's the p-?” he inquired breathily. The hands released their grip, only to return clutching a newspaper. “Brother, no! Please, spare brother Spain!” came the desperate voice of Feliciano who joined in the general chaos and tried to drag his older brother away from the Spanish vital regions. “Piss off, traitor!” Romano shouted and tried to whack both his brother and Spain with the rolled-up newspaper. “This stinking, stalking freak will get a lesson of his sorry life!” He aimed for another blow, but Denmark snatched the newspaper from him and grinned: “What is this about anyway?” “Give it back, Lego-wanker, NOW!” Romano sprang to his feet and ran after retreating Denmark. “Don't you dare open it!” “This is like totally a record,” announced Poland looking at his watch. “A fight in first five minutes! You should get some award for it or something.” Denmark and Romano made one round around the table. “You opened it! Now you are dead, hedgehog fag!” Denmark stopped abruptly and tossed the newspaper over the table to Weillschmidt. “Don't read it, dammit! I swear I'll…” The newspaper flew in slow motion across the room into Weillschmidt's waiting arms. Antonio's heart was beating slower as EU froze in expectation.
Re: UNITED IN PERVERSITY
anonymous
July 20 2009, 12:06:23 UTC
The newspaper was descending ominously towards ex-DDR like a bomb in an American war movie, like a dark shadow of the economic crisis, like a very slow hawk upon his prey, like… Antonio's flow of similes was ruthlessly interrupted by Germany who caught the offensive paper in the air. “SILENCE! NOW! IT IS SIX MINUTES AND THIRTY SEVEN SECONDS INTO THE MEETING. ALL OF YOU, SIT DOWN AND WORK FOR THE FUTURE OF THE EUROPEAN COMMUNITY!” France and England emerged from under the table. England sat and was busy straightening his tie and hair, with 50 % success. France seemed to be content with lounging in his chair looking decadently disheveled − if you call a black eye in the making decadent, that is. Still confused Antonio got up from the floor and took a seat next to now awake Greece. Others settled as well, only Romano remained where he was and glared and seethed. Germany continued: “There will be no conflicts! If you have any quarrels, table amendments, write reports…” “And first of all ask nicely for your turn to speak - you can do so in 23 languages!” chanted the EU states. “What's the big news then?” Weillschmidt asked impatiently. “Yeah, one Italy looks like a sheet,” Bulgaria pronounced “sheet” a bit too shortly, “and the other resembles an overgrown tomato.” “N-nothing! Really! Germany, can you give it to me, please? Germanyyy!” cried out Feliciano. “Are you still talking about the newspapers?” That was France. Antonio got hit by something small. A sweet with a crow on the wrapper landed in front of him on the table. He looked at Poland who mouthed “record! krówka!” (and he mimicked milking a cow and congratulating Antonio). Lithuania next to him pretended that he wasn´t there. “Shut up, shut up, dammit!” spat Romano and then he pointed accusingly at Antonio. “That bastard is a sleazy paparazzo and that shit is fake anyway. Yeah, he tries to destroy Italian honour and spreads his sick fantasies all over the place and…” “What sick fantasies?” asked Hungary, a bit too exited voice of reason. “None,” Romano gulped, “and it is completely his fault!” Spain looked puzzled, but he gave the angry young man a friendly smile. “And yours!” the angry young man lashed out on Feliciano. “Because I didn't vote for him!” “But me neither!” Feliciano cried out desperately. “We are nations, we don't get to vote!” “Oh, you talk about him again,” said Austria in his most neutral voice. “You mean that bloke who harassed my president?” asked Finland. “That's not the bloody point! The point is Spain is a freak and his newspapers should be banned because they are full of shit and sneaky fakes!” Everyone was silent and attentive. Germany only wished they would be that unanimous and well-behaved normally. “You mean you want to ban El País?” asked Belgium who really needed a bar of chocolate at the moment. “Of all newspapers.” “That's the lying soiled toilet paper, yeah!” “This is called censorship and you should give a very good reason for you decision,” said Luxembourg. “Shut up, you…” Romano hesistated. What the … can you call Luxembourg?! The country could give Canada run for his money in invisibility. “You, YOU BUREAUCRAT!” Luxembourg did not look affronted at all and Romano was about to explode.
Re: UNITED IN PERVERSITY
anonymous
July 20 2009, 12:10:42 UTC
“So, what's your problem really?” Slovakia inquired. “This is kind of like those Warsaw Pact parties when everyone got really drunk and… well, never mind.”
“I would like to know too,” Antonio said. “I get sat on during an official meeting without even knowing what I did wrong. Romano, just tell us what…” “You know it very well, you twisted jerk, and the devil has got a special place in Hell just for you!”
“Just leave the Queen mode and spill it, Romano!” England retorted. Germany shuffled through El País. “Please, Germany, don't look…” came a plea from Feliciano's side. “I will die of shame and you will hurt your eyes forever.”
And from Gilbert's side: “Come on, bro! It must be some orgy! We want an orgy! We want an orgy!” Ex-DDR was leaning over to sneak a peak in a way that almost made Ludwig wish for a wall between them. Just a tiny one… He slapped himself mentally.
Antonio could hear birds singing from outside… everyone was silent and waiting… it was rather disconcerting… He got up from his seat and approached Germany. He had not read El País today and obviously he missed out on something big. France casually walked over too.
The silence was broken by a bout of Gilbert's trademark laugh. Germany's face was carefully blank. Feliciano was clinging to Ludwig's sleeve wailing. Romano fell on his knees on the floor and swore eternal damnation to a great deal of the Iberian Peninsula and each Member State who dares to laugh - which now included France who was applauding, Gilbert passing the paper on to the Netherlands who wolf-whistled and tossed it to Spain…
Antonio looked at the photos. “Sorry, Romano,” he tried to say, but he failed miserably, because he was grinning like a madman. He could not help it. The half-naked chicks in Italies' boss villa surrounding more or less naked fat cats. Was there a more stupid cliché?
He passed the newspaper to England without a word. He was afraid his poor ribs won't survive the day. He thought briefly about comforting Romano, but it would be probably the last thing he would ever do. The boy looked murderous.
“England, stop drooling.” France grasped the newspaper victoriously. “There are others who want to see!”
“I bet you are going to have it framed over you bed,” said England.
“Mais non, I prefer beautiful people. The politicians spoil the artistic value.” France smiled so sweetly that the water in the glasses on the table spontaneously turned into Sprite. “There is someone else who should see.”
He turned to Czech Republic. “No wonder your bosses can't run the Union when they are so pleasantly occupied elsewhere, little presidency. But don't worry, big brother France will help you.”
Re: UNITED IN PERVERSITY
anonymous
July 20 2009, 12:19:05 UTC
“W-what? I was just proving a point!” the girl protested.
“And what point it might be?” France purred.
“That EU can run autopilot?” tried Czech Republic. “Anarchy is an answer!”
France laid the newspaper in front of her. “You know, EU had been nothing without dirty Eastern European girls.”
“It's Central Europe to you,” Hungary defended their honour indignantly while Czech Republic was busy staring at the photo and her face got incredibly white and her body rigid. The room fell quiet again.
After few ominous seconds Czech Republic asked: “What is the highest building in the world?”
Stunned silence was disrupted only by the sound of Estonia, ever the model student, tapping the keyboard of his notebook.
“Currently, the tallest completed building is Taipei 101 in Taiwan,” Estonia answered. “509.2 metres.”
“Oh no,” sighed Slovakia as the Czech's eyes turned into slits.
“Excuse me,” Czech Republic said, “I have to go now and invite my political representatives for a trip.”
Before she headed outside she turned apologetically to the other Member States: “It's been centuries without a proper defenestration.”
“See, this happens when a girl stays with Russia like too long!” Poland nodded wisely.
And he threw a krówka at fuming Romano.
Iceland stepped out from the discreet corner where he was observing the EU meeting. He was clutching notes to his chest and whispered: “I just don't think I am up to this.”
“Hola, Romano!”
Hands trying to strangle him, that was new though. “Hola yourself and your mum! You've always been the Europerv number one, but now you've done it!”
Antonio distinctly heard France from across the room protesting that England holds an honorary degree of Master of Perviness. England objected and the room got even more lively.
Antonio gripped Romano's hands and he vaguely noticed concerned faces of not-yet-fighting nations - Portugal was cheering − and tried to pry the Italian's hands away from his throat. “Romano, what's the p-?” he inquired breathily.
The hands released their grip, only to return clutching a newspaper.
“Brother, no! Please, spare brother Spain!” came the desperate voice of Feliciano who joined in the general chaos and tried to drag his older brother away from the Spanish vital regions.
“Piss off, traitor!” Romano shouted and tried to whack both his brother and Spain with the rolled-up newspaper. “This stinking, stalking freak will get a lesson of his sorry life!”
He aimed for another blow, but Denmark snatched the newspaper from him and grinned: “What is this about anyway?”
“Give it back, Lego-wanker, NOW!” Romano sprang to his feet and ran after retreating Denmark. “Don't you dare open it!”
“This is like totally a record,” announced Poland looking at his watch. “A fight in first five minutes! You should get some award for it or something.”
Denmark and Romano made one round around the table. “You opened it! Now you are dead, hedgehog fag!”
Denmark stopped abruptly and tossed the newspaper over the table to Weillschmidt.
“Don't read it, dammit! I swear I'll…”
The newspaper flew in slow motion across the room into Weillschmidt's waiting arms. Antonio's heart was beating slower as EU froze in expectation.
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“SILENCE! NOW! IT IS SIX MINUTES AND THIRTY SEVEN SECONDS INTO THE MEETING. ALL OF YOU, SIT DOWN AND WORK FOR THE FUTURE OF THE EUROPEAN COMMUNITY!”
France and England emerged from under the table. England sat and was busy straightening his tie and hair, with 50 % success. France seemed to be content with lounging in his chair looking decadently disheveled − if you call a black eye in the making decadent, that is.
Still confused Antonio got up from the floor and took a seat next to now awake Greece. Others settled as well, only Romano remained where he was and glared and seethed.
Germany continued: “There will be no conflicts! If you have any quarrels, table amendments, write reports…”
“And first of all ask nicely for your turn to speak - you can do so in 23 languages!” chanted the EU states.
“What's the big news then?” Weillschmidt asked impatiently.
“Yeah, one Italy looks like a sheet,” Bulgaria pronounced “sheet” a bit too shortly, “and the other resembles an overgrown tomato.”
“N-nothing! Really! Germany, can you give it to me, please? Germanyyy!” cried out Feliciano.
“Are you still talking about the newspapers?” That was France.
Antonio got hit by something small. A sweet with a crow on the wrapper landed in front of him on the table. He looked at Poland who mouthed “record! krówka!” (and he mimicked milking a cow and congratulating Antonio). Lithuania next to him pretended that he wasn´t there.
“Shut up, shut up, dammit!” spat Romano and then he pointed accusingly at Antonio. “That bastard is a sleazy paparazzo and that shit is fake anyway. Yeah, he tries to destroy Italian honour and spreads his sick fantasies all over the place and…”
“What sick fantasies?” asked Hungary, a bit too exited voice of reason.
“None,” Romano gulped, “and it is completely his fault!” Spain looked puzzled, but he gave the angry young man a friendly smile. “And yours!” the angry young man lashed out on Feliciano. “Because I didn't vote for him!”
“But me neither!” Feliciano cried out desperately. “We are nations, we don't get to vote!”
“Oh, you talk about him again,” said Austria in his most neutral voice.
“You mean that bloke who harassed my president?” asked Finland.
“That's not the bloody point! The point is Spain is a freak and his newspapers should be banned because they are full of shit and sneaky fakes!”
Everyone was silent and attentive. Germany only wished they would be that unanimous and well-behaved normally.
“You mean you want to ban El País?” asked Belgium who really needed a bar of chocolate at the moment. “Of all newspapers.”
“That's the lying soiled toilet paper, yeah!”
“This is called censorship and you should give a very good reason for you decision,” said Luxembourg.
“Shut up, you…” Romano hesistated. What the … can you call Luxembourg?! The country could give Canada run for his money in invisibility. “You, YOU BUREAUCRAT!”
Luxembourg did not look affronted at all and Romano was about to explode.
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“I would like to know too,” Antonio said. “I get sat on during an official meeting without even knowing what I did wrong. Romano, just tell us what…”
“You know it very well, you twisted jerk, and the devil has got a special place in Hell just for you!”
“Just leave the Queen mode and spill it, Romano!” England retorted.
Germany shuffled through El País. “Please, Germany, don't look…” came a plea from Feliciano's side. “I will die of shame and you will hurt your eyes forever.”
And from Gilbert's side: “Come on, bro! It must be some orgy! We want an orgy! We want an orgy!” Ex-DDR was leaning over to sneak a peak in a way that almost made Ludwig wish for a wall between them. Just a tiny one… He slapped himself mentally.
Antonio could hear birds singing from outside… everyone was silent and waiting… it was rather disconcerting…
He got up from his seat and approached Germany. He had not read El País today and obviously he missed out on something big. France casually walked over too.
The silence was broken by a bout of Gilbert's trademark laugh. Germany's face was carefully blank. Feliciano was clinging to Ludwig's sleeve wailing. Romano fell on his knees on the floor and swore eternal damnation to a great deal of the Iberian Peninsula and each Member State who dares to laugh - which now included France who was applauding, Gilbert passing the paper on to the Netherlands who wolf-whistled and tossed it to Spain…
Antonio looked at the photos. “Sorry, Romano,” he tried to say, but he failed miserably, because he was grinning like a madman. He could not help it. The half-naked chicks in Italies' boss villa surrounding more or less naked fat cats. Was there a more stupid cliché?
He passed the newspaper to England without a word. He was afraid his poor ribs won't survive the day. He thought briefly about comforting Romano, but it would be probably the last thing he would ever do. The boy looked murderous.
“England, stop drooling.” France grasped the newspaper victoriously. “There are others who want to see!”
“I bet you are going to have it framed over you bed,” said England.
“Mais non, I prefer beautiful people. The politicians spoil the artistic value.” France smiled so sweetly that the water in the glasses on the table spontaneously turned into Sprite. “There is someone else who should see.”
He turned to Czech Republic. “No wonder your bosses can't run the Union when they are so pleasantly occupied elsewhere, little presidency. But don't worry, big brother France will help you.”
Reply
“And what point it might be?” France purred.
“That EU can run autopilot?” tried Czech Republic. “Anarchy is an answer!”
France laid the newspaper in front of her. “You know, EU had been nothing without dirty Eastern European girls.”
“It's Central Europe to you,” Hungary defended their honour indignantly while Czech Republic was busy staring at the photo and her face got incredibly white and her body rigid.
The room fell quiet again.
After few ominous seconds Czech Republic asked: “What is the highest building in the world?”
Stunned silence was disrupted only by the sound of Estonia, ever the model student, tapping the keyboard of his notebook.
“Currently, the tallest completed building is Taipei 101 in Taiwan,” Estonia answered. “509.2 metres.”
“Oh no,” sighed Slovakia as the Czech's eyes turned into slits.
“Excuse me,” Czech Republic said, “I have to go now and invite my political representatives for a trip.”
Before she headed outside she turned apologetically to the other Member States: “It's been centuries without a proper defenestration.”
“See, this happens when a girl stays with Russia like too long!” Poland nodded wisely.
And he threw a krówka at fuming Romano.
Iceland stepped out from the discreet corner where he was observing the EU meeting. He was clutching notes to his chest and whispered: “I just don't think I am up to this.”
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