[obligatory drunken antics post;]
[ Over the course of the afternoon, Russia has called you, your neighbor, and your mother's sister's dog. 20 times each. Then ten more times just to make sure. Half of the messages are simply heavy breathing.
Five minutes of heavy breathing into the phone. On your answering machine. Now that he's drunk enough to completely knock out his mouth-brain filter (Russia had one to start with?) He is now leaving a few more . . . interesting messages.
The same ramblings are repeated several times, and gradually less coherent. His accent is thicker than usual, too.]
You are listening, Да~? You hear everything Russia has to say, don't you?
Ah-- Mayfield children are such little babies. Always with the tears and the whining and the funerals in boxes set on fire.
Should listen more closely. Might miss something Russia says.
You are knowing-- in Russia's house, if you are doing this much crying, the tears will freeze to your face, and they will have to take out your eyes because they are turning into ice. [ a. giggle.] Or something. I do not think I can feel my feet anymore.
Америка. Америка! Америка~! You should stop taking what isn't yours. First you are starting with Russia's dog, then his sisters and now his comrades? Америкааааа. Is not as if I am caring what you are doing, Америка. Is trick, like thing with rabbit and hat or Catherine and horse or how Russia's face is beginning to feel numb. . .
Америка you are being there? Listening? Are you not always listening? You will be picking up phone now, Да?
You are knowing that Russia is remembering all of his comrades. There is little Zoey and precious Lithuania and Russia's poor little Anya and my dear friend Poland and Sister and Sister and Sister and little tiny Fairy who cannot handle shovel and boy who calls Russia father and then Russia is forgetting some--
Russia is sorry, comrade. Y-you are coming back now and Russia is sorry? Is not a revisionist! Is loyal to cause. Should come back now.
Америка. Stop listening.
[ A series of hiccups, before Russia finally fades off into muttering in Russian about mothers and dogs and flotation devices. It ends with a few strains of terrible, terrible singing. Terrible. ]
Five minutes of heavy breathing into the phone. On your answering machine. Now that he's drunk enough to completely knock out his mouth-brain filter (Russia had one to start with?) He is now leaving a few more . . . interesting messages.
The same ramblings are repeated several times, and gradually less coherent. His accent is thicker than usual, too.]
You are listening, Да~? You hear everything Russia has to say, don't you?
Ah-- Mayfield children are such little babies. Always with the tears and the whining and the funerals in boxes set on fire.
Should listen more closely. Might miss something Russia says.
You are knowing-- in Russia's house, if you are doing this much crying, the tears will freeze to your face, and they will have to take out your eyes because they are turning into ice. [ a. giggle.] Or something. I do not think I can feel my feet anymore.
Америка. Америка! Америка~! You should stop taking what isn't yours. First you are starting with Russia's dog, then his sisters and now his comrades? Америкааааа. Is not as if I am caring what you are doing, Америка. Is trick, like thing with rabbit and hat or Catherine and horse or how Russia's face is beginning to feel numb. . .
Америка you are being there? Listening? Are you not always listening? You will be picking up phone now, Да?
You are knowing that Russia is remembering all of his comrades. There is little Zoey and precious Lithuania and Russia's poor little Anya and my dear friend Poland and Sister and Sister and Sister and little tiny Fairy who cannot handle shovel and boy who calls Russia father and then Russia is forgetting some--
Russia is sorry, comrade. Y-you are coming back now and Russia is sorry? Is not a revisionist! Is loyal to cause. Should come back now.
Америка. Stop listening.
[ A series of hiccups, before Russia finally fades off into muttering in Russian about mothers and dogs and flotation devices. It ends with a few strains of terrible, terrible singing. Terrible. ]