Intro.

As the summary suggests, 'Wildcard' is a bunch of short stories and drabbles that come to mind which I don't have time to expand into full stories. No individual story will be over a chapter long, and some may be very short indeed. Regardless, I hope you find something to enjoy about them.

But wait! This particular fic features audience participation! Got an idea for a short story, but not that hot at writing? Have a random phrase and want to see where I can take it? Drop me a line! Write me a review or drop me a pm, and I'll do my best! Furthermore, if you have more time in life than I do and want to expand what you read into a full story, let me know so I can read it!

Anyway, enough of that. Please enjoy the first short story, 'Canada Day'.

Canada Day.

Canada was upset – another world meeting gone by, and once again no-one had noticed him. He had had some pretty good things to say as well, but the louder countries had just talked over him, as always. It was pretty disheartening, meeting after meeting, but he tried to stay upbeat. It could be worse, afterall – his head could be made of cheese.

"Eh? Why cheese?" Cuba asked, bottle of beer half way to his lips.

"Oh, no real reason." Canada answered, fluffy blonde head on the bar "Just the first word that came to mind."

"Huh."

Cuba took a swig of his beer. It had been a long and trying day, and the nations were gathered down the pub for a drink and some dinner before retiring and starting the circus all over again tomorrow. Canada sighed – he wasn't really up for drinking, but hotel rooms were kind of lonely and depressing. Not quiet, though. Not with his rowdy brother right next door. He even spoke in his sleep, the bastard.

"You know," Cuba went on "I think you're thinking about this all wrong."

"How's that?"

"It's like having a super power." Cuba figured "I'd love to be invisible. I could spy on anyone I wanted. I could go in womens changing rooms and kill all my enemies, and no-one would ever know it was me."

"You scare me sometimes."

"Think about it, man!" he started to enthuse "You could do anything! You could walk into a bank and just take shit! Steal government secrets and cross any border you wanted."

Seeing that his conspiratorial fun wasn't cheering up his friend, Cuba laughed and slapped him roughly on the back, changing his tact.

"Think about it!" he repeated jovially "There's gotta be something you've always wanted to do! Me, I've always wished I could go to one of these boring ass meetings in my shorts and sandals, but everyone would notice."

"You do hate dress shoes." Canada knew.

"I could just sit there eating ice cream and reading porn. And if I got bored, I could just take a nap." he sighed "Man, I wish I was invisible."

Canada laughed, cheering them both up. He yelped in a most unmanly manner as he was grabbed roughly from behind.

"Canada, bro!" the familiar voice of his brother yelled right in his ear "It's bed time, man!"

"What the hell, America?!" Cuba roared, jumping up from his stool as his friend was accosted "We're talking here!"

"Dude, it's okay!" America grinned at him, happy and oblivious as always "This guy's my brother!"

"I know who he is!"

"America..." Canada whimpered "That hurts. Please let go."

"It doesn't hurt." he disagreed "And like I said, it's bedtime!"

"Why does an independent nation have a bedtime?!" Cuba scorned.

"Because we've got a busy day tomorrow, duh." was his answer "I don't know about you, Mr Communist, but I'm exhausted! Bringing democracy to the world is tiring, you know!"

Back on the pub floor, the old world nations continued to laugh and piss around, noticeably mocking 'little baby America' for sticking to his 10pm bedtime. Cuba grimaced and went to argue with America some more, but Canada stopped him with a shake of the head.

"It's okay." he assured "I am kinda tired. I'll see you bright and early for breakfast, though."

Cuba was dissatisfied, but let it go. America pulled Canada right off his bar stool, releasing him only to take his hand and drag from from the building and back to the hotel.

"Hey bro, I was thinking, we should totally go see a movie when the meeting is over." he yakked "How about that new one from my place?"

"Which one?"

"It's doesn't matter, bro, they all rule!"

Canada sighed again, humouring his brother until they said goodbye at the doors of their hotel rooms.

"Oh!" America remembered, half in the door before turning back coyly "You know... these hotels can be pretty lonely places... all alone... in a bed that's not yours... It can be pretty scary, if you wake up in the night and don't know where you are..."

Of course. Typical America... It was one of the parts of his brother that Canada found touching, and he couldn't help but smile.

"If I get scared, may I come to your room?" he asked, although he knew that wouldn't happen.

"Of course!" America almost yelled "Because, as I'm sure you know, I am the hero! And I might... you know, come check on you in the night... if I remember..."

"I feel safer already."

America smiled, cheeks going a little rosy.

"Well then... night, bro!"

America immediately slammed the door. Canada just laughed to himself and went into his room.

Canada sighed. He wasn't looking forward to another day of being ignored. It was especially bitter today, since it was the Canadian national holiday – also known as his birthday. He didn't want to go to the meeting. He didn't want to put on his dress shirt and tie and the itchy suit and sweaty shoes. Uuugh. He supposed he had no choice. He was perfectly comfortable in his hockey jersey. Out of no-where, Cubas words from the previous night sprung to his mind.

"What's going on?"

"Ah, Britain!"

France ran up to the confused Brit, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the gawping crowd.

"You won't believe this! Something truly absurd has happened!"

They stopped at the door where everyone was waiting, and immediately the Brit was taken aback – Canada sat in his seat, feet up on the table, dressed not in his suit and tie, but pyjama bottoms, slippers and a hockey shirt, plate of pancakes in one hand and a fork in the other, curly hair not even close to being brushed. America sat next to him, more suitably attired, but clearly flabbergasted. Looking up from his pancakes, Canada cocked an eyebrow as he saw every other nation in the world staring at him. He slowly finished chewing and swallowed before addressing them.

"Fuck you, it's Canada day."

Cuba burst out laughing. A ripple of giggles spread through the crowd. America looked even more confused. Canada, completely unrepentant, belched loudly before shoving more pancake into his mouth. France seemed horrified, but Britain couldn't help but laugh, going into the room and taking his usual seat.

"Happy Birthday, you weirdo."

"Who is that?" a voice in the crowd dared ask.

"I'm Canada."

"Hell yeah, you are!" Cuba agreed as he slammed his briefcase on the table by his friends feet "Let's get this meeting started!"

Canada did exactly what he wanted during the meeting. After a little while, having his feet up on the table started to hurt his back, so he sat normally on the chair. He ran out of pancakes, so poured his left over maple syrup into his coffee cup and sipped at it. He flipped through his camping and leisure magazine and did the crossword in the morning paper. Damn, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt so comfortable at a meeting – he should wear his pyjama bottoms out more often. For about an hour, life was pretty sweet.

However, something started to bother him. He couldn't put his finger on it, and it started to bug him more and more. He looked around, but no-one was missing, nothing was out of the ordinary – in fact, everything was running pretty smoothly. Very smoothly. Too smoothly...

Canada looked at his brother – he was sat in silence beside him, staring at his almost blank notebook. Had he said a single thing all morning? Come to think of it, Canada couldn't recall anything he had said today, other than his usual jovial 'good morning' and strangled protests when he realised his brother wasn't going to get dressed today. That was... disconcerting...

"Hey, America." he called softly "Are you feeling okay?"

America startled a little, looking at his brother. He was noticeably upset, but forced on a smile.

"Of course." he lied "I'm cool. I'm a hero!"

He flashed him a thumbs up. Canada smiled back, although he didn't believe him for a second.

"So, how was it?" Cuba asked as he shoved the chicken skewer in his mouth "Was it fun?"

"It was okay." Canada admitted as Mr Kumajiro tried to swipe his chicken "But truth be told, I didn't really do anything different to normal. Germany told me off something fierce, though. He let it go because it was my birthday, but I don't wanna go through that again."

"Dude's scary." Cuba agreed "It's a shame it was a meeting day – imagine what you could have done if you had the day off!"

"I probably would have gone camping." Canada knew "Or hiking. Or maybe read a good book. That sounds like a pretty good birthday to me."

Cuba chuckled, nodding knowingly.

"Canada!"

They looked around – France bundled over, all enthusiastic, with a whole menagerie of old world countries behind him, Britain holding a very fancy looking cake.

"Unless my memory deceives me, it is a certain young nations birthday today!" France sung "It's time to celebrate, non?" he leaned in conspiratorially "And don't worry, Britain did not make the cake."

"Oi! I heard that, you wanker!"

It was nice being the centre of attention, but truth be told, Canada wouldn't want to do it every day. He was absolutely exhausted, physically and mentally, and his throat hurt from talking too much. How ironic that on the day he tried to actually take advantage of his invisibility, he was the most noticed. He was actually looking forward to the quiet of his hotel room, retiring earlier than the old world nations despite their protests and begs for him to stay and keep drinking. France begged him to dress normally tomorrow, or at least brush his hair, and was none too pleased when Britain jokingly disagreed with him.

As the door of the lift opened, he limped out and down the hall to his room – slippers were comfy, but they weren't made to be walked around in all day. He also smelled kinda funky after hanging around in his pyjamas. He should take a shower and change before bed. He jumped a little as the door to Americas room opened, realising with a sickening suddenness that he hadn't seen him since the end of the meeting. America seemed startled a moment before being overcome with relief, but reigned it back in before speaking.

"Hey, Canada." he greeted nonchalantly "How was the party?"

"Oh, it was okay." he answered "It was pretty quiet without you, though."

"Yeah, sorry about that." America mumbled as he scratched the back of his head "I wasn't really feeling up to it. I'll make it up to you, bro."

Was he feeling sick? He certainly wasn't himself today. Did he need a doctor?

"You can pay for the movie." Canada reminded him "And the snacks."

This seemed to cheer him up, and he smiled genuinely for the first time today.

"Well..." he mumbled "Good night, bro. Happy birthday."

"America." Canada called as he turned away "If I get scared, can I sleep in your room?"

His older brother seemed surprised a moment, but smiled again.

"Of course." he said "I am a hero."

With that, he went into his room, closing the door without slamming it for once. With a yawn, Canada went into his room.

America stared openly at his brother the next morning as they met for breakfast. Hair brushed, suit adorned, there was nothing at all out of the ordinary about him today.

"You're not wearing your pyjamas today?" he asked awkwardly.

"They're kinda funny smelling after yesterday." Canada admitted.

"Oh, I see." America answered, sounding a little happy "But I guess no-one's going to pay attention to you today."

"That's okay." Canada told him as they moved along the buffet and piled their plates "It was fun for a day, but I don't really need it."

Food acquired, they looked around the room briefly, spotting France as he waved his hand in the air to get their attention. They crossed the restaurant floor, ducking around their fellow nations with not a single one of them paying attention.

"Oh yeah?" America went on "Why's that?"

"Because," he answered as he took his seat "I'm Canada."

It's hard for short stories to make sense. At least, when I write them... haha... I hope you enjoyed that on some level anyway. Despite sometimes being upset about not being noticed, Canada always struck me as the type of character who was pretty happy in his own skin.

Next short story will be 'Oedipus Complex'... I'll leave you to ponder what it's about!

All reviews and submissions welcome!