Did you know that I don't own Hetalia? I'm sure you did :)

I was in front of my television late one night when I heard it. Again. A horrible, revolting hum. My ears perked up dangerously. How could this possibly be happening again? That had to be the twelfth time. This hour. Even as I stood up, I felt shivers running up and down my spine.

I stood slowly, making sure not to frighten the disgusting thing off. It simply had to die. There was no way around it. If I let it live, it would just breed and overflow my house. I held my shoe, which I had kept in my lap all night for just this purpose. In the dim light, I could see my target. Much too large for my tastes. I readied myself to strike.

Slowly, slowly, I pulled my arm back, dreading what I was about to do. Then, before the horrible creature could move, I slammed down on the wall, much harder than was necessary. Why? Because I didn't want to feel it. That sickening crunch. That atrocious feeling of another being's life slipping away at your hands. I gained not an ounce of pleasure from the feeling of killing these. But I had to protect my home from them.

My face contorted into a grimace as the body fell to the floor with a shiver-worthy little sound. "Where the hell do you guys keep coming from?" I asked the corpse wearily. I bent to sweep the remains into the large pile which I had in the corner, to be thrown away in the morning. I made a face when I saw that there was blood on the wall where I had killed it. Filthy creatures. Why can't they all just die? Maybe I should create some virus to wipe them all out. Then everyone else can find ways to get rid of the bodies with me.

I'm going to be honest here. I was scared of these things. Terrified, actually. They tried to attack me while I sleep, I swear! And they made the worst noises. They made me feel (just a little) homicidal. Where were they from again? Oh yeah, Asia. I read that online somewhere. I made a mental note to contact one of the Asian countries, probably Japan. One of my more obnoxious citizens brought them here, and they invaded. Yes, invaded. They took over nearly every home in my country. And my people were scared of them, so I was as well. That's how it works, see?

If you don't know what I'm talking about, you obviously don't live in America, the greatest country in the World. It was these bugs. Stink bugs, shield bugs, whatever you like to call them. They were disgusting and I killed them at every chance I get. I needed an exterminator. Badly. But either way, no matter how many I killed, there were always more. I hated them so much.

They were a pain to kill, too. When you squished them, they released an odour which attracted more of them. It was a vicious cycle. But I was running out of places to put the bodies. So I had decided to try burning them. I looked over at my pile. There had to be at least fifty of them. This was just today's load, too. I wrinkled my nose. The stink hung heavy in the air, dank and smelling of rotting.

Their bodies were mangled, their insides hanging out. It was almost hard to tell where one body ended and another began. It was almost enough to make me feel sorry for them. Almost. I would still kill them, of course. They obviously needed to die, since they had no natural predators in my home.

The next morning, just as I was heading to breakfast, I looked over at the pile. Burning time. I grabbed a broom and a dustpan and swept all of the loathsome things into the dustpan, trying my very hardest not to touch them. It didn't work as well as I would have liked, but I eventually got them all in.

I walked carefully, making sure not to spill them. That was not an experience I wanted to relive. I still shuddered a bit at the memory. I made my way out into the early morning sun. The weather was so lovely. Why did they have to ruin it? (Okay, they didn't completely ruin it. But they certainly made my day less enjoyable.)

I dumped the nasty bugs unceremoniously onto a clear section of cement, where laid the charred remains of the others who had died before them. I furrowed my brows together as they fell out of the dustpan onto the ground. I added a few small pieces of paper, which I had grabbed on my way out in preparation. I took out my lighter and flicked it, holding the tiny flame to one of the paper scraps until it finally caught.

Not wanting to stick around for the show, I headed inside. But not before I was struck with the grotesque smell which they emitted when burning. It was almost worse than the smell of humans burning. Luckily, these little bastards took much less time to turn to ash. Done with yesterday's batch, I went inside to call Japan to find out their natural predators. Maybe someone could bring that animal over.

This was in honour (hatred) of all the fallen stink bugs which have invaded my house (and everyone else's). Gross, right?