First fanfic of any kind, so don't be too cruel. Read and review, please.
Phone Calls.
Russia… was bored. Maybe lonely too, but he was so used to it that he didn't notice. It was January, and the usual 6-month blizzard had knocked out the power a few days ago. Amazingly, though, he still had phone reception. Maybe it'd be a good idea to call someone…
America: What? No, dude, I can't talk to you. I'm like, supposed to stay away until your president stops sending nude pics to mine, or something. I dunno, I was watching E! when my boss called. Buh-bye, commie!
-Click-
Prussia: Lemme get this straight. You call and wanna talk to me? Kesesesese. Fuck you.
-Click-
Germany: Errrr… I-I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't talk now, work, you know—
N. Italy: Ve, Germany, who's calling? I wanna talk!
G: Errr… R-Russia…
What follows is a sound that can really only be captured by imagining you gave a mouse a good whiff of helium, and then telling him that cats have taken over the military. It's that sort of soul-wrenching fear, delivered 2 octaves above middle C.
-Click-
Switzerland: Who? Russia? Uhhhh… I don't talk.
-Click-
China: No, aru! I don't know how you got my new number, but I can't talk now—Really? For me? Thanks—No. no, if we were humans I would have taken out a restraining order by now, and—Yes, I would love to come to Moscow. Thank you for the sunflowers. Love you too. I do have to work, though, bye! . . . Wait, what? Shi—
-Click-
Canada: Ohhhhh, Russia…Uhhh…Maple…See, America's told me that I can't talk to you, cause you wanna invade me…I'm sorry, but, uhhh, bye…
-Click-
Japan: What? Why are you calling me? I insist that all phone calls be scheduled two weeks in advance and that they be made only for pressing reasons! No, I can't talk.
-Click-
Russia was quickly running out of options. No one would talk to him, from France (it appears France had finally found someone he wouldn't have sex with) to Hungary (some high-pitched screaming about her husband and frying pans).
There were only four people left he hadn't called. America'd threatened him with WWIII if he contacted any of the Baltics, which left… Belarus. Shit.
Belarus: Hello? Brother! It's been so long since you called! But I've been waiting! You're so fun to talk to; we should get married so we can do it more often! No, don't hang up, I'm sorry! What have you been doing? Oh, you were talking to other countries? That's not good, you know they don't like you—No! No, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I just think that you should marry me so we can be closer—Russia! Don't hang up. . .
It took three hours, but Russia finally managed to get off the phone. He decided a nap might be a good idea. As he looked at the sunflowers in the corner (that he could barely see- no power), he thought about warm places. Maybe Malta… they were tiny and an island, they couldn't have that big of a military. Yeah, Malta had to be a pussy. And so, Russia fell asleep to thoughts of Maltan domination.