Hey everyone! Merry Christmas or whatever you celebrate, and Happy New Year. Uploaded for the holidays, this fic is a rather strange take on Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" that stars my thirteen Hetalia OC's, the Canadian provinces and territories.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own rights to any works of literature or animation that this fic is based on. All works parodied here belong to their respective owners. Thank you, and don't sue me.

A Canadian Christmas Carol

It wasn't that Québec hated the holidays, she just didn't want to spend them with her fellow provinces, the territories, or Canada-Québec felt that she was superior to them all. So she seemed especially grumpy on Christmas Eve, when Alberta and Saskatchewan came to visit her.

It was evening, and Québec had been listening to the radio while having a light smoke. Eventually, the sultry voice of the French singer who Québec was listening to was drowned out by an annoying, insistent bell ringing from down the street. It seemed to go on forever, and after nearly ten minutes of that noise, the blonde French girl pulled on her mink coat and leather boots and tromped out of her house and into the street with a scowl on her face.

"Merry Christmas, everyone! Ho, ho, ho, eh!" It was Ontario who was making all the noise. He stood on the street corner next to a salvation army donation kettle, dressed as Santa Claus, bell in hand. He was shouting Christmas greetings to passers-by while ringing the bell. Occasionally, someone came by and dropped some coins or a paper bill into the kettle.

"Ontario!" Québec hollered at him.

Ontario turned around and smiled at her. "Oh! Hey, Québec! Merry Christmas, eh!"

"Now you listen here, mon ami idiotique. You are making far too much noise for me to enjoy my music! Be quiet!"

Ontario shrugged. "Sorry aboot that, but I can't stop ringing the bell 'til I've reached a certain amoont, eh?"

"Then go ring your bell someplace else!" Québec shouted. "I am trying to enjoy my vacation off! Now be gone, before I smash in your CN tower!"

This seemed to scare Ontario plenty. He immediately picked up his kettle and ran off. Québec whipped around and marched back to her house. No sooner had she settled on the chesterfield with a glass of wine when the doorbell rang. Several times. The Frenchwoman rolled her eyes. Only one person could be that insistent on getting into someone's house.

"It's open!" Québec called.

The door flew open and smashed against the wall. In tromped Alberta with his big, expressive grin on his face. Saskatchewan followed silently behind. "Hey there Québec!" Alberta shouted. "Happy Holidays!"

"Yes, yes, happy holidays," murmured Saskatchewan.

Québec glanced indignantly at the brothers. "What is it you want, fréres prairie?"

"Well, ya see, this year me and Saskie-boy are representin' a company devoted to the cause of givin' nice presents and canned food and stuff to poor people," Alberta explained.

Saskatchewan pulled a pen and a large envelope out of his coat. "That's right. Any donations you'd like to make, Miss?"

"Here's business card for the company me and Saskie are representin'. just call that number any time you'd like to make any additional donations," Alberta said, taking a small card out of his pocket and handing it to Québec.

She glowered at him. "Are there no prisons…?" she inquired of Alberta and Saskatchewan.

"P-prisons?" Alberta was taken aback. "Well, sure…plenty of prisons, Miss Québec."

"…and the housing for the unemployed is still in operation?" she went on.

The prairie brothers exchanged worried looks. Finally, Alberta spoke. "…it is, But I wish I could say it wasn't."

Québec seemed relieved. "Ah, bon. I feared something had interrupted the course of their useful occupations."

After an awkward hesitation, Alberta spoke again. "…yeah. Well, uh, at this festive time of year, it is wished that as many people as possible should make a donation to good, honest, hardworkin' companies like the one me and Saskie-boy are here on behalf of. What're we gonna putcha down for?"

"Nothing," Québec replied through gritted teeth.

"Oh, you…want to be an anonymous donor?" asked Saskatchewan.

"I want to be left in peace!" the blonde Frenchwoman retorted. She was on the verge of shouting. "I support the establishments that I have mentioned, and the poor people you speak of must go there," she said dismissively.

Saskatchewan looked as though he was about to cry. Alberta lowered his head slightly, his eyes deep with emotion. His voice got very quiet. "A lot of 'em can't go there, and…well, to be honest, a lot of 'em would rather die."

"Then they had better go and do it, and decrease this disgustingly overflowing populace!" That time Québec did shout. Both boys looked as though they'd seen a ghost.

"Good day, you two!" Québec shooed the brothers away.

"Y-yeah…s-see ya round…" Alberta led Saskatchewan out of the house, not looking back.

"Foolish boys," Québec muttered. "Since when did Alberta make it his business to donate gifts to poor people? He's far too rich to care, him and his oil."

Just then, the phone rang. Québec let it ring a few times before snatching it up. "Allo?"

"Québec? You there?" It was New Brunswick, the lumberjack province.

"Oui, this is Québec. What do you want?"

"Matthew will be here soon. When're you coming over to help us with the food?"

Québec sighed in irritation. "If I told you once, I told you a hundred times: I won't be celebrating with you English-speaking idiots!"

"C'mon now, you don't mean that. Everyone's here except for Nova Scotia and you! So come on over here!" New Brunswick urged.

Québec narrowed her eyes. "How come your little Scottish girlfriend isn't there, hmm?"

New Brunswick hesitated. It didn't take a genius to tell he was embarrassed by the suggestion that he was dating Nova Scotia. "…s-she's been in Boston for days. The stupid storm between McAdam and Augusta has delayed her at least four times.

"But that doesn't mean you can't show a little family spirit by getting over to Matthew's house! So hurry up!"

"I told you, I am not going to celebrate with you!" Québec insisted.

Now it was New Brunswick's turn to mock her. "Then who will you celebrate with? Pervy old Bonnefoy?" he said smugly.

Québec flushed with anger. "I'm not going to spend Christmas with Monsieur France, if that's what you mean. Now leave me in peace!" She hung up without another word to New Brunswick. "Maritime provinces speak so rudely…" she muttered to herself. She glanced at the clock. 7:23. I might as well settle down for the night, Québec thought. She grabbed her wine bottle and glass and sauntered up the stairs to bed.

-END OF CHAPTER ONE-