England looked quite pleased with himself. He had finally managed to draw the runes and the magic circle in the right way. Now, just one ingredient was missing and he could finally have his revenge on the ever annoying Prussia.
After all, it was not very nice of the ex-nation to
a) bring a video camera to a pub where he was meeting several other nations for the purpose of getting totally drunk,
b) actually film a potentially embarrassing scene, involving a certain wasted drinking buddy of his singing a girly pop song off-tune in a state of near total undress while dancing on the table,
c) continue filming although certain drinking buddy had certainly made a poor choice in the colour of his underwear (though through no fault of his, but due to several unforeseen circumstances which were indeed unfortunate)
d) to have the audacity to show said film at the next nations meeting to all the nations present
and e) to manage to escape unscathed by running away before England could execute his revenge.
But there was this useful thing called magic. After consulting his extensive library, England had come up with the perfect revenge: Create a parallel reality, ideally made up of what your victim hated and trap said victim in their personal hell for exactly a week without any means of escape.
And fortunately this spell was very easy to create. Just draw some runes and a circle on your floor, place something belonging to your intended victim in the middle and start chanting and, voilà, the owner of the item lying in the circle would be trapped in the parallel reality for a week. Really, totally foolproof.
While England sent off one of his fairies to retrieve Prussia's iron cross, England was thinking about what the albino might hate the most.
Being continuously hit by a frying pan? Perhaps not the best idea, as Prussia might already have developed a tolerance.
No beer? Perhaps slightly better, but not the most perfect scenario.
Finally, England settled on copying this dimension for the parallel reality and just to add total bureaucracy for each and everything. Firstly, the simplest torture methods were usually the most effective and secondly he had listened to Germany complaining how Prussia always weaseled his way out of any kind of paper work often enough to know that the ex-nation abhorred anything even remotely related to bureaucracy.
When his fairy returned with the iron cross, Arthur placed it in the middle of the magic circle and prepared to chant the spell to activate the parallel reality. After a bit of hesitation, he added another strengthening rune, nodded in a satisfied way and started reciting.
Meanwhile, Germany was washing his car on his driveway. Suddenly, he was enveloped in green smoke and a popping noise sounded. After the air cleared, he glanced around, confused, but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. He shrugged and thought that it was probably one of Gilbert's inane pranks again and reached for the garden hose to wash off the soap from his car.
He was just about to turn on the water when he heard a nasal voice from next to him.
"Before you turn on this tube used to transport water over a certain distance away from the tab, may I see your operating licence for garden tools and your permit to use water on a means of transportation classified under category B, subtext 1.2?"
"What?" Germany asked flabbergasted, looking down at the small man who had apparently arbitrarily appeared out of nowhere.
"Your licence and your permit, please, and hurry; otherwise I will also need the yellow permission slip for unnecessary wasting of time."
"Err…" Germany said eloquently and blinked, an action which did not make the figure disappear, "what are you talking about, nobody needs permits for that. Furthermore, I have never heard of something like this."
Privately, Germany was wondering whether the other was some kind of escapee from a mental institution. Normally, he would say, bureaucracy was a good thing, as it gave order to things, but even Germany was drawing the line somewhere.
He thought the best course of action would be to go into his house, lock the door and hope this weird man would become bored and go away.
However, halfway to his front door, the man was suddenly standing right in front of him (How had he managed that?) and said: "Ah, going into the house? Then I'll need the purple permission slip and the red one as well."
Germany just stared at him. Hopefully, an intimidating stare would help, but obviously the man was not like Italy, because he was saying: "You don't have it? Then fill out the application for the permission slips."
With that he pushed a substantial pile of papers in Germany's hands.
Said nation glowered at the man and ran into his house and slammed the door. Unfortunately, this did not help in the slightest. The man was already standing next to him:
"So next to the purple and red slips, that would also be the orange and the blue one – and for disregarding the green form."
A week later…..
"Hey, Westen, what happened to you? You look like something the dog dragged in. Where were you anyway? Did you get lost for a week washing your car? Your boss forced me to do your paper work! That was totally not awesome of you to suddenly disappear for a week!"
Prussia's questions remained unanswered as his younger brother staggered past him, muttering something about taking several sabbatical years in a row and remote, uninhabited locations.