Gilbert looked at the clock which read Eight thirty-two. He smirked, knowing his little brother was asleep and made his way to the kitchen for two packs of beer. The Prussian got in the car, began to chug one bottle, started the car and drove off and picked up Francis first who hopped in the front with his three bottles of wine, then Antonio with another pack of beer and a bag of tomatoes.
In a matter of minutes, they were all drunk, Prussia driving across the Russian border. "yo, mi amigo, where are we going?"
"Russia. I wanna give that bastard a piece of my mind for what he did to me in World War II! He should be walking home by now."
"whoa mon ami! Let's make l'amour, not war!"
"No! the bastard deserves it. Nobody takes over the Awsome me, especially no commie!"
"Then let us out first!" They said simultaneously. Prussia slammed on the brakes, letting them out, then peeling wheels down the road towards Russia's house.
Sure enough, there Ivan was, walking home. Gilbert turned the wheel aiming straight for the Russian.
As soon as Ivan began to turn, the vehicle made contact, knocking the Russian several feet before the car stopped. Prussia got out, saw what he hoped was a dead Russian, then drove back, picked up France and Spain then headed home.
*That*Morning*
Ludwig walked up to his brother's room, as Gilbert watched, picked up the driver's license and a pair of scissors he brought in with himself, and cut the license in half.
"That is for running Russia over with MY car without MY permission! No beer for a week!" and The german left. Gilbert reached under his bed for a bottle of beer. "No beer my ass! I'm too awesome not to have beer."