Please note that this is a retarded one-shot fiction based off of an Internet joke (just ask and I'll link it to you on YouTube if you don't already know it) and a comic strip I drew the other day that was inspired by said joke (again, I'll link you to the image if you want). You know, "for the lolz" and all that good stuff.
CANADA WAS FROZEN, TODAY. :|
"…So then the old man and the communist bastard and that one wonton guy…"
Today was everything that Canada hated in life. In truth, he wasn't exactly sure how it had come to this. Part of him was thrilled that, for once, America was actually acknowledging him as a person and giving him his full attention (albeit selfish and immature as it was). The other part of him, of course, was wishing he had never run into the self-absorbed man in the first place. One minute, he had been explaining that he was Canada (Canada!), and not any form of apparition or clone, and was in fact previously acquainted with America, but the next he had found himself the recipient of a one-sided conversation that he had no desire to be a part of…and admittedly couldn't really make sense of at all.
"…Hounding me for their money back…"
With every syllable Canada's eyes darted wildly in an attempt to find an escape route. A verbal excuse was out of the question—not only would his voice be missed as if it were nothing more than a breath of wind, but he wasn't sure he could even find an opportune moment to cut off the other blonde's steady stream of consciousness.
"…Me? Owe money? How ridiculous! If anything…"
In America's glasses Canada was seeing flashes of the all-too-familiar (not to mention deranged) smile behind the thunderous roar of a grinning chainsaw. He could feel a lump form in his throat, his grip around Kumikichi (or whatever the bear's name was) tightening.
"…More like a generous donation to a worthy…"
What was he going on about? At this point, the words were mixing together. America sounded like nothing more than one of the adults from the Charlie Brown cartoons, making inexplicable sounds indiscernible from those of an animal (or to be nicer, like when he decided to talk while gorging himself with hamburgers and soft drinks). He could pick out a few words from the jumble here and there—the token "hamburger" or "hero" that America took obvious glee using in discussion whenever possible.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Hero, hero, hero, hero, hero, hero, hero, hero.
This was getting aggravating. Canada was meek and hated conflict, he was fully aware of this himself and had all the desire in the world to just twist the lid to his feelings tightly shut like he did every morning with his jar of maple syrup while cleaning up from breakfast. However, he didn't think he could take this any longer. Why should he constantly be oppressed and overlooked? Why did he have to be the one to listen? When was it his time to speak? A rage bubbled within him…or rather an intense, desperate need to halt the onslaught of words America was bombarding him with. Canada snapped.
"I WAS FROZEN TODAY."
He wasn't exactly sure how it happened himself. It just kind of…slipped out spontaneously, as if the statement had formed itself.
Silence.
America stared at him, a blank, stunned expression plastered on his face. What was there that he could possibly say as a rebuttal to such an outburst?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.