Hey! I'm back after forever!
This was a random story that my sister and I came up with... and by random, I mean random. It's something we came up with: One person writes a few sentences, then the next writes the next few sentences, and so on until you come up with a story. You don't edit the results, and post it whenever it's done.
That means that no, neither of us had any idea of what this was going to turn into until it was basically already written. XD
Please review, they mean so much to me!
Canada swallowed; perhaps if he did this right, he might be able to get Russia to help him to be seen by the other nations… "Um, Mr. Russia, sir?"
"Da?" Russia reached within his jacket, pulling out a bottle of his favorite vodka. "Want some?"
Canada took a deep breath. Normally, he didn't like to drink, but somehow, saying 'no' didn't seem like a good idea, so he nodded. "Um, sure, thanks," he said quietly.
"Okay," the taller nation grinned, handing him a bottle of the alcoholic substance. Canada took it gingerly, well aware that he'd never even tasted vodka before. Cautiously, he unscrewed the cap and took a tiny sip.
Russia watched in amusement as the usually forgotten nation doubled over, coughing up a horse. "Something wrong, da? Most people aren't used to straight vodka," he told Canada.
Red-faced, Canada looked back at him. "Um, thanks," he frowned. "That's okay," he said suddenly, brightening, "I've got something to mix it with."
Russia continued smiling, actually glad that someone besides his sister was talking to him and not being scared. "Da? What is it?"
Canada reached into the folds of his own coat, producing a bottle of thick, brown liquid. "Maple syrup!"
Russia's expression turned to one of slight puzzlement, then interest. "Oh?"
"Yeah! I can put it on almost anything," he added, upturning the syrup bottle over the vodka. "So I figure it'll make this okay to drink, too!"
Russia's face never lost the smile, though his expression turned darker. "Are you saying there is something wrong with my vodka?"
"N-no, of course not!" Canada gulped, noticing this very eerie change in his fellow nation. "I'm just saying… I'm a bit weaker, you know, than… you?"
He returned to normal, satisfied with the explanation. "Da. Do as you wish, then." Canada heaved a sigh of relief. Then he tried a sip of his new maple vodka.
Instead of coughing, spluttering, and gasping as he had before, he looked upwards in thought, then added a bit more syrup. "This is actually…" He paused, trying another sip, "Quite good." He smiled, tasting it again. "In fact, it's delicious!"
Russia's smile widened. "Good."
"So I said, so I said to him, I wuz like, Hey! You shlow down now! But he didn't, eh?" Canada burst out in laughter. "I thought he would but he jusht looksh at me and shaysh, 'You! Put down the goldfishkettle!" He slapped his knee, spilling a tiny bit more maple vodka on the grass in front of him.
"Say. Can I have a tiny taste of that, Canada?" Russia had never had maple vodka before. Actually, he'd never had anything besides straight vodka before.
"Oh, shure, shure." Canada handed the bottle over to the nation, who took a cautious sip. His face brightened.
"It's so sweet!"
"Da," Canada grinned. "Heehee, I shound like you! Da, da, da…" He went off into a little song, consisting entirely of 'Da, da, da'.
He looks so stupid, Russia laughed in his mind. And he probably won't even remember this. His smile never faltered as he listened to the drunken nation. "Would you like some more, da?"
"Of coursh, of coursh!" Canada pointed the bottle at Russia, trying to hand it to him, and failing miserably. "Quit movin'," he complained.
"I am not moving," Russia countered cheerfully. "You are just very, very drunk."
"I yam?"
"Da. You are." Finally, the bottle found its way to Russia's hand. "Thank you."
" 'elkum," Canada slurred. "Shee, the thing I like mosht about you, is that yer... an awful lot like pancakessss."
Russia blinked at the unexpected… observation. "Oh really?"
"D-d-yeeeaaaahhh," he decided, "yer big like pancakes oughtta be. Plush, yer… covered in syrup?"
Russia suppressed an outburst of laughter.
"And, yer… uh… oh…" Canada clutched his stomach miserably suddenly. "I. Uh. Maple."
"The bathroom is down the hall, in the house," Russia cheerfully explained, taking a swig of the maple vodka.
He didn't even reply, just running as fast as he could in a stumbling meander in the door.
Russia chuckled softly to himself, pocketing something carefully, and walked to the computer on the desk in his bedroom. He liked watching people make idiots out of themselves, especially if there was a good chance that they weren't going to remember it anyway.
Several minutes passed and Canada didn't return. Russia shrugged, downing the rest of the maple vodka, and walked very steadily toward the bathroom. He blinked at what he saw when he got there.
Canada had fallen asleep, head resting on the toilet seat. A thin line of drool dripped from his mouth.
Well, he decided after more than a little chuckling, if he fell asleep, wouldn't it be rude to wake him? And he walked out of the room, leaving the snoring nation on the toilet.
Canada squeezed his eyes shut tight, aware only that the room was too bright.
Never again.
Never again would he even so much as taste maple vodka.
"Oh, you're awake." The voice seemed to be booming from the heavens, as loud as whoever it was could shout. Canada winced; the voice went straight to his headache, making it throb harder. He whined inaudibly.
"The hangover won't last forever," that same voice thundered down. "You really were very drunk last night, da?"
"Go away," Canada whimpered.
"Why? Wasn't there something you originally came here for? You never show up at my house for no reason," Russia answered, taking no consideration for the headache.
"Nuthin'. Go 'way." Even his own voice sounded like it was a hundred times louder than he'd wanted it to be.
"I'm afraid I cannot do that." Canada recoiled once more, his head throbbing, as the nation continued to speak. "You see, this is my house."
"Maple," Canada whispered in pain and frustration.
"Ah well. I just won't let you leave until you tell me. That'll work for now, I suppose," Russia said happily, walking out of the bathroom and leaving Canada to his misery.
Hours later, Canada finally had emerged with only slightly a headache left. "Mr. Russia?"
The Russian looked up from the computer he was sitting at. "Da?"
"What I had originally come here for," Canada fumbled, "I was wondering if… maybe, you know, you could help me improve my relations with other nations? You know, so they don't think I'm invisible anymore?"
Russia laughed. "I don't think you'll have that problem anymore," he grinned.
"Really? Why not?" A feeling of dread settled over Canada, mixed with interest. The way Russia had laughed… but some small part of him wondered if the Russian really meant that he had fixed everything, that Canada would be recognized and seen.
"Oh… you'll see…" Russia laughed once again, turning back to his computer.
Suddenly, Canada's cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Dude." That was the only thing America said.
"Um…" Canada blinked. "Care to elaborate a little?"
"What the heck."
Canada slumped against a wall, his eyes closing. He could feel the headache returning. "What?"
"Seriously, that is freakin messed up, yo." America paused a second, waiting for Canada to say something. When he didn't, he blurted, "Why the heck would you make a freakin website called MapleVodka Dot Com* and post those freaky pictures of yourself on it?"
"Um… what?" Canada straightened abruptly, his eyes falling on the chuckling Russian. Don't tell me…
"Seriously, is that Russia's scarf you're playing with?" Canada's eyes snapped open as a new thought entered his still sluggish mind.
"Wait… how did you find the website?" He dreaded the answer.
"Someone anonymously sent it to my email. Dude! That's sick." Canada twitched with each new gasp of disgust from his brother as he scrolled through new pictures. "The funny thing is," America laughed, "you look like half dead in every one of 'em. I mean, why bother-how'd you do that?"
"What?" Canada swallowed, trying to brace himself. "How'd I do what?" Do I really want to know?
"Oh, looks like you're hanging upside down from a tree naked is all," America replied. "Whoa. A cow. Not good, bro."
Canada shrunk, even though his brother couldn't see him. It probably looks like I'm hanging upside-down naked from a tree, he realized with renewed horror, because I might just be hanging upside-down naked from a tree. This is pretty bad, eh? He made a mental note to never, ever, ever come to Russia's house for any reason ever again. Ever.
"Dude, I gotta go. But seriously. I dunno what to say." He hung up with a click, and Canada looked at Russia with horror.
"What?"
"You…. I was…"
"I was bored," Russia shrugged. "Now you can leave, da?"
Canada opened his mouth to answer when his cell phone rang again. His eyes fell on Russia, new shock in them. "How… how many people…"
"Oh, I sent it to everyone, da?" Russia smiled. Canada paled.
"E…every…everyone?" Slowly, he picked up his phone again. "H… hello?"
"Ohohohoho, what have we here?" France's obnoxious laugh insulted his ear.
"An accident," Canada squeaked. "I didn't mean to…"
"Well," France laughed, "whether you meant to or not, you did, and that's really all that matters, isn't it?"
Canada gulped back his reply.
"So now, are you busy with your new friend Russia right now? Should I call back later~? Ohonhonhon!"
"I'm not busy," he shivered. "Please don't-"
"Ah, you were such a cute country when I found you," France reminisced, interrupting him, "and now my little boy has all grown up."
Canada slumped.
"So," France continued brightly, "care to join me at my house for a while~?"
Click. Canada snapped the phone shut, not even bothering to grace that with an answer. No. Just… no.
The thing promptly began ringing again, making Canada worry. …how many missed calls do I have…? He didn't even have the bravery to look. Instead, he opened the phone once more and put it to his ear. "…Yeah?"
"You bloody git! What the hell's gotten into you?" England launched into a rampage about how this was a disgrace to all of the nations, why would someone go and do something that bloody disgusting, he was acting just like France, etc.
Canada blinked, then slowly took the phone from his ear, holding it about half an arm's length from his body, staring down at it.
He could still clearly hear every single word the British man said.
"Um, listen, I, uh," he attempted when he got the phone safely back to his ear. "I swear, I didn't mean to-!"
"Didn't mean to? How can you bloody not mean to post an entire website filled with-"
"I didn't do it! I, um, Russia…" Canada slowed to a gradual halt, trying to find the words to explain himself.
"What? Bloody spit it out already!"
"I didn't mean… that is… just… never mix syrup and vodka when Russia's around," he muttered.
England paused a second. "What?"
Canada sighed in mortification and frustration, trying to find something, some way that could explain exactly what had happened, that could express how humiliated he felt, a single phrase that could say it all.
"Maple vodka."
*MapleVodka Dot Com was the only way that Fanfiction would recognize it. Yes, I checked, and no, it is not a real website.
Again, reviews are loved and well appreciated! (insert me begging on my knees here) Anyone who reviews gets a cookie, and has touched their inner cheeseburger! :D