Disclaimer: We do not own Hetalia. Himaruya Hidekaz does.
Author's Notes- In English class, after reading bits from The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, our teacher gave us a little project: To write our own "Prologue" with ten different characters. The characters could be real or imaginary, and Jordan (BubbleGumofLondon) and I (the same from our other fic: Britannia Did It!) paired up and wrote ours with various characters from Hetalia Axis Powers.
It had to be in poem-form, 250 lines, with somewhere around ten syllables per line, and then read aloud. Also like the format in Britannia Did It!, everything I read is in normal font, and she in italics. We think it turned out quite well, and decided to post it. Its also to prove to anyone that reads Britannia Did It! that we are, in fact, still alive...
xXx
In 2012, some would say, the war would end,
But for our ten brave heroes it would just begin.
Their journey started in July,
From Vancouver most would have to fly,
To London for the summer games-
The Olympics, for glory in their country's name.
In the airport there are no crowds to cheer,
When the competitors start to appear:
America was the first to arrive
For the most gold medals- he had to strive.
Impressive and lively, he staked his claim,
On all the medals that he would gain.
He carried hamburgers by the ton in his bags.
"I can eat more than anyone!" He would always brag.
"As the Hero of the World, I should be able to."
"It is something that only I can do!"
He liked to sit on the couch and play video games-
What's he gonna do? Bring a GameBoy on the plane?
He was confident that he would win,
And couldn't wait for the games to begin.
But in his hat that looked like a bear,
Canada was already there.
America's brother. They were nothing alike,
Except in looks, but Canada was quite,
Different. He wasn't loud or straightforward,
But with his brother and neighbor he couldn't be bored.
Canada was shorter than his brother,
It helped separate them from each other.
Also he was always very polite,
Perhaps all the bowing was disrupting his height…
The near-blind Canada had to wear glasses,
In order to read his airport passes.
The two blonde brothers could hardly wait,
There at the airport's entrance gate.
Following them was another great player.
He was a strong-minded dragon slayer.
Great Britain was the name of this lad,
He was the host, and for that he was glad.
He would drink tea any time of the day,
And couldn't imagine it any other way.
He has the most powerful magic in all the land.
He says so, anyway… No one knows off-hand.
He would blast his punk music in the street.
It was quite catchy with its new-age beat.
Many know him as a harsh critic,
But America claims he's over-analytic.
With bright green eyes and a smile on his face,
He was determined to take first place.
Then came someone all wrapped up in fur,
Back home in Russia he would always say, "Brrr!"
He constantly wore a smile on his face,
That no one could ever seem to erase.
It made everyone think that he was quite scary.
His mental health made all of them wary.
Vodka was by far his favourite drink,
He drank so much at times he forgot to think.
The scarf on his neck was long and white,
His sister gave it to him one cold winter's night.
He is the tallest person in every case.
In this group, he wasn't hard to place.
At one-eight-two centimeters from head to floor,
He had to duck sometimes to get through the door.
He had a large build, but he was not fat.
Therefore, he was good in all sorts of combat.
He had a great gymnastics team,
From pummel horse, rings, to the balance beam.
Coming up next was a quiet man,
It was hard to tell that he was Japan.
He was dressed up nicely in a suit,
With neat hair and glasses to boot.
Japan was very set in his ways,
And liked to think back to the olden-days.
While this also made him very reserved,
The thought of losing his culture made him unnerved.
He was a good engineer, and liked to build,
Giant robots. He was very skilled.
And though he was small, he was very strong,
Many challengers would size him up wrong.
Then came a man who was holding a rose,
With a gleam in his eye he held it up to his nose.
In his beret, France sauntered in bliss,
Blowing all the cute girls a small kiss.
On his left check was a dark little mole,
Or was it a beauty mark? Do we need a poll?
A stubble of a beard was on his chin,
Maybe he forgot to shave again?
We're asking a lot of questions concerning him.
Well, apparently on his subject we are quite dim.
His blonde hair was so long it touched his neck,
Many years ago it made him look like a wreck.
He won lots of medals but never won wars,
Unless fighting beside others and storming his shores.
While he hated going to his enemy's land,
He'd do it for just an occasion so grand.
And then, carrying his panda bear,
Came China with his long black hair.
China is the shortest of them all.
Compared to him, the others were tall.
He liked to collect lots of Hello Kitty.
But that's made in Japan. It's such a pity.
He was ancient and strong, and a good cook,
With his recipes he could fill thousands of books.
To him the most important thing is food.
He makes it differently so it fits his mood.
As an Olympic powerhouse, he won,
In almost every game under the sun.
Italy then came following along,
Humming a little happy song.
The tango was his native dance,
He liked to do it alongside France.
Pasta was always on his mind,
Around him it was never hard to find.
His light brown hair had a stray little flip,
If you tugged on it he would tremble his lip.
Italy wasn't the bravest fellow,
He would wave a white flag instead of saying hello.
In case there was fighting, he kept it unfurled.
Painting's one of his favourite things in the world.
He also really enjoys his sleep,
And would count pasta instead of sheep.
Blonde hair and blue eyes was Germany's race.
He wore a very angry look on his face.
"I'm here to win" he started to yell.
Italy came up and wished him well.
He hated to say Italy was his close friend,
But he figured he was stuck with him till the end.
His luggage was full of wurst and cheese,
And beer to put his mind at ease.
He tries to keep his house nice and clean,
Even though to some he can act mean.
But that's only when he's being serious,
And everyone else is being delirious.
Although he wasn't in the games this year,
Prussia was there, if only to cheer.
He hoped for Brother Germany's victory,
And bounded behind him, bursting with glee.
His hair was white, but he was not old.
And a little bird was a blob of gold.
Several would point to the bird on his head,
But he simply ignored what all of them said.
Prussia is strong; at least, he used to be.
But right now he's living with Germany.
Being up-to-date on modern times,
His blog was full of all the best lines.
He also loved making his own music
It would be punk or metal if had to choose it.
There were many more countries we don't care about,
But there were no complaints, nor did anyone pout.
They went to the plane, following a sign,
And boarded it in a single file line.
They headed to London for the gold,
Leaving behind all the winter and cold.
Away they went, with their backpacks stuffed tight,
Hoping that this would not be their last flight.
They were seated in rows from coach to first class,
And talked and boasted, so the time would pass.
China secluded himself to the side,
Enjoying a bowl of his rice that was fried.
Germany read, while Italy sang,
While Japan took a nap. Then there was a loud bang.
The U.S. and Prussia had started to fight.
A battle of words at this great height.
America threw his burger and shouted:
"My team is the greatest!" While Prussia pouted,
Prussia replied, "You're not as awesome as me!"
"I could beat you day or night! Definitely!"
Then Canada stepped in to mentor the battle,
"You're acting like children. Should I get you a rattle?"
They turned away and sat, both quiet like mice.
While France thought, "Hey, this is kind of nice."
Britain was shocked at what just occurred,
Canada yelling like that is simply absurd.
Russia was gone- not paying attention,
He was off in another dimension.
The last time he tried to drink on a plane,
He leaped out! Temporarily insane.
So this time he swore to not drink at all.
It was for the fear that he might fall.
Germany was relaxing, as he thought he deserved.
But Italy was starting to get on his last nerve.
With Italy singing constantly into his ear,
He was about to teach him the meaning of fear.
"Stop the singing! You're hurting my head!"
"Would you rather I sing something else instead?"
"You better be quiet or your pasta is tootles!"
"Germany, please! Don't bring harm to my noodles!"
All the yelling had roused Japan from his sleep.
This whole time he hadn't said one peep.
"Why so loud?" Japan interjected.
"To whom is all your anger directed?"
"I want my rest and need it now."
"But it's something Italy will not allow."
Germany's eyes were burning with rage.
Japan thought he should be kept in a cage.
In the end he decided to not say a thing.
What's the problem if Italy wanted to sing?
After the brawls, everyone stayed quiet.
Nobody wanted to cause a riot.
China was all for keeping the peace,
And chatted with France when the fighting had ceased.
They talked about food, which they both knew well.
Chatting about oysters on the half shell.
China showed France his shiny new ladle,
But in China's hands it could be fatal…
He liked to hit people in the head with a wok,
And hardly ever gave them time to talk.
But France wasn't worried. He was on his team.
There was no need to be scared when China would scream.
Then Canada came with a plate of hot cakes.
The large stack tilting as the plane shakes.
When he pulled out his bottle of maple,
Prussia almost leaped over the table.
"Hey! Let me have some!" Prussia demanded.
"I'll give you a bottle once we've landed."
France inquired, "What's that bottle full of?"
"Maple syrup!" Said Prussia, "Its food from above!"
Canada nods, "It goes on everything."
"It's the one thing I just had to bring."
Britain said, "I like syrup in my tea."
Canada replied, "It's better in coffee."
America said, "Of course coffee's the best."
"But it's always better roasted out west."
Great Britain sighed and sipped his tea.
He wanted this flight to end quietly.
So can we stop now? I'm sick of rhyming.
Why do you keep messing up our timing?
But this is so long! Aren't we finished yet?
We've got about twenty to go I'll bet.
What do we do now? How does this thing end?
Will you help me! We've got a plot to mend!
Fine! Oh wait… What'd we say before the stop?
Keep this up and we're starting from the top!
Oh yeah! I remember. This and that and…
There are some things you just have to demand.
With a partner like this I'll need a drink.
I would consider hiring a shrink.
Where were we again? Crap. I lost my place.
It would be awful if that were the case.
I'm starting to think you're just wasting time…
Would you rather spend it trying to rhyme?
Hey, hold on a minute! We're almost done!
Just a few more lines until the last one!
So what should we say to finish this off?
… Britain turns them all away with a scoff?
Don't be ridiculous. What about this?
This rhyming is something I will not miss.
The trip would be long, but would be worthwhile.
They will all go to London with a smile.
That line is lame. It is so, it is so.
Who came up with that? - I think you did. - Oh.
END
XxX
Author's Notes-- And that's the end result. We had fun writing it... mostly... Rhyming is extremely annoying before 11 a.m.. And as for the other fanfic... If anyone reading this even cares a bit: We will write it. ... Eventually... Busy, busy...!
Kind of very busy,
-Destiny