Much thanks to scrambled-eggs-at-midnight for the beta job and help with the French.
"I hate these things," said France, tapping his pencil against the conference table.
"So why do you come to them?" asked Canada.
"I have to. Why do you?"
"Because no one would notice if I didn't." Canada raised his voice. "Um, excuse me! I have something to say!"
The other nations carried on with their shouting. Only America took time to look around and say, "Did you guys hear something?" before he went back to trying to put a pencil through Cuba's eye.
"See?" said Canada. "I barely get listened to here. If I left, I'd never get a say in international affairs."
"I see," said France. He made a mental note to PAY MORE ATTENTION TO… UH… THAT ONE GUY.
"You, though… if you left, there'd probably be an international incident. They'd all be trying to get you to come back and… uh… do… you know, the… stuff you do… again."
"Hmmm…." said France.
***************
Staying home "sick" was quite relaxing. For one thing, it was quiet— no shouting Germany or babbling America. For another thing, nobody tried to make you wear pants.
The only bad thing about France's day so far was that accursed ringing telephone.
"'Allo?" he said.
"So, France-o." Oh, God, it was America. "Gotta question for you. Me and Japan were talking, and we were wondering: which one would you rather drive—"
France dropped his glass.
"— an American car, or a Japanese car?"
Oh. That was what he meant. France pretended to be considering. Really, he was mopping up spilled wine. At least he didn't have any clothes to stain.
"A French car," he said finally.
"Wait, you have cars? Seriously?"
"America, just because you cannot appreciate the Clio does not mean that no-one else—"
France realized that he was talking to air, America having dropped the receiver.
"Hey," said America's distant voice, "didja guys know France makes cars?"
"Fils de salope," France muttered, and poured more wine.
***************
"You know, frog, I was rather annoyed at having to deal with America alone last time, but words cannot express how miserable your absence made me today."
"Eh?" He'd always known England couldn't live without him. Why else would he be talking to his so-called nemesis?
Well. Other than that a bored France had refused to quit calling him.
"Yes. I had to be the sole arbiter between America and Canada. For once, Canada didn't kick America's arse."
"How shocking. What were they fighting about?"
"Who got to control Canada's wood."
France choked on a grape. "A-Angleterre… a-are you by any chance using any sort of euphemism?"
"No. Why the hell would I be?"
"N-never mind. Do go on."
"Right, so, Canada thinks it should be subsidized by the government, and America thinks things like that should be private—"
"He always was a prude. I wish I could subsidize my penis."
"… What? I'm talking about the lumber industry, you pervert!"
"Lumber industry? Could those meetings be any more boring when I'm not there?"
"You know what, I think you should stay away for a little longer and let us find out!"
England hung up, leaving France to ponder methods for convincing Sarkozy to actually let him subsidize his penis.
************
"Hey, France."
"Why are you calling me, Hungary?"
"'Cause you're probably the only other person who can appreciate this situation. Oh, you're going to be so mad about not being here…"
France sat up in bed. "Really? What's going on?"
"Well, we were talking about exports and one of the Italies said something about their famous olive oil, and then neither of them would shut up about it, and then Spain said something about how he produced more of it than any other country in the world, and Romano was like, 'yeah, but we consume more,' and his shouting woke up Greece, and—"
"Ma belle," said France, "I'm sure this is all very interesting, but where is the part that will be interesting to me?"
"I'm getting to that," said Hungary. "So anyway, Romano wakes up Greece, who starts going on about how Athens is named after Athena 'cause she gave them the olive tree, and Turkey's like, 'Greece, you orospu çocuğu, nobody cares,' and then Greece dumps olive oil on his head."
"Where'd he get it?" asked France.
"How should I know? And then Veniciano yells, 'Food fight!' and he starts slinging oil. And then Spain starts throwing tomatoes, and one of them hits Canada, and I guess Canada's still mad about that thing with the tax on the lumber exports, because he just started whaling on America. And meanwhile Romano's going on about wasting good tomatoes and trying to get them away from Spain— and don't ask me why he brought a crate of tomatoes to a conference or where he was keeping them— and all the Middle Eastern nations are going after each other because… uh… that's what they do, and everybody's wrestling, and everybody's slippery, and my only issue here is that everybody's wearing way too much clothes."
"I'll be right there," said France.
************
Hungary waved when France walked in the conference room. Everybody else just stopped battling and stared.
"France," said Germany, who was trying to get maple syrup off Austria's glasses, "please leave. You can come back when you have pants."
France looked down, and admitted to himself that he might have been just a little hasty in getting out of the house.
***************
Things had mostly calmed down when France entered the conference room for the second time (now with 100% more pants.)
England picked bits of hamburger out of Sealand's hair; America wrung out the tail of his tea-soaked T-shirt. Austria tried to keep Canada's bear from licking his syrupy face, and Canada kept shooting satisfied smirks at America. Russia chuckled, sending all France's blood straight to his feet, while Prussia literally rolled on the floor, laughing out loud.
"'Allo, mes chéris. Can I not leave you alone for five minutes?"
Canada wiped some oil off his notebook. "Actually, you left us alone for…" he scanned its pages "… two and a half meetings. Which means that… wow, Australia. You won. In fact, you predicted it down to the minute." He looked up at Australia. "Nice job."
"You heard the man. Pay up." Australia went around the table, collecting his winnings for…
"Hang on a minute," said France. "You had a betting pool on the length of my absence?"
"Um… yeah?" said Canada.
"Oh, Mathieu, I am so… so… honestly, I am rather proud of you."
"Oh. Um, thanks, France."
"Pas de quoi. Just don't use my life for profit again."
"Er. Um. Oui, monsieur."
"Hang on, now," said England. "Why are you speaking his bloody-minded language?"
"That's not the question we should be asking," said Hungary. "The question we should be asking is, 'Hey, since Hungary's the one who got France to come back when he did, shouldn't Australia share some of the dough with her?'"
"No!" said Australia.
"Yes!" said Austria.
"If you're sharing with them, you should share with me!" yelled Switzerland.
"Why the fuck should I share my money with you?"
And after that, everything descended into a shouting match, with Austria and Switzerland insulting each other, Romano insulting everyone, everyone ignoring America's asinine suggestions, and…
"I'm sorry they're all ignoring you again," France said to Canada.
"Don't be. As long as they're fighting over Australia's winnings, they're not trying to haggle over my bookie fees."
"What were you going to do with those, anyway?"
"Maybe go out drinking… but it's no fun alone. Interested?"
France smiled. "You, Canada, are my favorite former colony."
Nobody noticed when they walked out.
-
French translations:
Fils de salope- son of a bitch.
Ma belle- my beauty.
Mes chéris- my dears.
Pas de quois- a friendly, informal way to say "you're welcome" or "it was nothing."
Oui, monsieur- yes, sir.
Turkish translation:
Orospu çocuğu- fils de salope
Notes:
The Renault Clio is apparently the most popular car in France. Attempts to sell it to American consumers were… er… unsuccessful. There are places in the U.S. (such as my home state, Michigan, which manufactures most of our cars and is home to the "Big Three" auto companies—Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler) where owning a Japanese car is considered a hangin' offense.
The United States-Canada softwood dispute is a real thing. The very, very, very simplified version: most timber in Canada is owned by provincial governments, and U.S. laws say that this means we're allowed to put extra taxes on lumber imported from Canada. Canada isn't too happy about this. The London Court of International Arbitration, which handles these sorts of things, ruled in our favor.
An American victory against Canada is an unusual occurrence. The U.S. has tried to invade Canada at least twice. The first time was in 1775, when the newly-formed Continental Army tried to capture Quebec, in hopes that this would (somehow) convince the Québécois to join our revolution. The second, more famous time was during the War of 1812. We were at war with the British (AGAIN) and invaded British Columbia. Both times, the Canadians beat our patriotic asses red and blue.
Nicolas Sarkozy is the president of France.
Spain is indeed the world's largest producer of olive oil, and Italy is indeed the largest consumer. Greece consumes more per person, though. According to legend, Athena and Poseidon both wanted the city to be named after them, and it was decided that whoever gave the best gift would have the honor. The ancient Greeks found Athena's olive tree more useful than Poseidon's saltwater spring.
Spain, in addition to being the world's largest producer of olive oil, is home to the Tomatina, a festival that— seriously— consists of everyone in the town of Valencia throwing tomatoes at each other for several days.
80% of Australian adults gamble. They have at least one world record for it.
Subsidized Penis is totally the name of my new rock band.