Urgh...its the dead of night, I'm exhausted....and yet, I'm still typing this....once I put this up, I'm going to bed. No more partying for me.

On a lighter note, while I was away, I got to meet one of the women who ran the Olympic torch! She even let me get a picture holding it. It was so cool~!

Okay, on with the story. For the record, I apologize to any sensitive Swedish people (I know one who is NOT oing to be reading this). I have nothing against you, this is just how it all probably went down.

Disclaimer: I own nothing...you, know, the usual. Geeze, I'm tired...=.=

Sweden, September 16th and 17th, 1972

Matthew sipped at his drink, absently thinking how nice it was for Sweden to throw a party as welcome, purple eyes scanning the room. The team was mingling well. He couldn't see any arguments brewing. Heck, Bobby Clarke was proudly showing off his two missing front teeth, grinning like a madman.

Off to the side, Fergie and the Coach were being to to behave...in political terms. They seemed to be taking it quite well, too.

"So, I have a question."

'Uh-oh,' Mattie thought, quickly pinpointing the source of the voice.

Wayne Cashman grinned at the two Swedish men in front of him. "Where were you guys in World War Two, anyway?"

Canada tried not to perform a repeated head-wall, barely stifling a groan.

"...C'n'da."

Matthew turned and smiled at his fellow nation. He'd remembered his name! Though, with Matthew's luck, someone had probably reminded Sweden before he'd come to talk.

"H-hello, Sweden!" he greeted the fairly intimidating (hence,the stutter) man, his tone cheerful.

Berwald nodded in return.

Matthew was still smiling as he glanced around once and tried to start up a conversation.

"Um...so, thanks for letting us play here, eh? The team really needed a break from the Russians," he began awkwardly.

Berwald nodded curtly. "Y'r w'lcome."

There was a long pause. Matthew pushed up his glasses uncomfortably. Sweden's expression didn't change. Matthew nervously fiddled with the end of his tie, eventually getting to the point where he was nervously cleaning his glasses. Berwald sighed.

This was going to be too easy.

breakbreakBREAKbreakbreak

Sweden's back hit the wall, and he stared in shock at the country before him.

Canada,who had been so polite and docile before the game, stood before him, purple eyes blazing with fury, fists clenched.

What the fuck, Sweden?!" Matthew yelled, grabbing the front of Berwald's shirt. "Do you even know what a stick to the mouth does?! Cash's fucking tongue was hanging out of his fucking mouth! Fifty fucking stitches, you bastard! Fifty!"

Sweden opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking.

"S'j'st a 'gme."

Obviously, that was the worst possible thing to say.

Pain exploded in Berwald's jaw, and he stumbled with the momentum and the sudden release of his shirt.

Blood filled his mouth, and he spat it out, along with...

His eyes widened.

Canada just rolled his eyes and stalked off towards the embassy.

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Sleeeeeeep....

Anyways, durring Canada vs. Russia in '72 (also known as the Summit series), Team Canada stopped in Sweden on their way to Russia, and played some games there. Unfortunately, a Swedish player somehow managed to get his stick lodged in Wayne Cashman's mouth, nearly taking off his tongue, and giving his fifty stitches.

I just thought that that might have been Matthew's response, considering how much hockey means to Canadians. There's also a funny song I like, where they mention that Swedish players must be geeks, since they still have all their real teeth, so that's where I got the idea of Sweden losing a tooth.

The stuff that happened beforehand, at the party came from the Canada vs. Russia '72 movie. I love that movie.

Well, that's all I'm doing for tonight. G'night, and thanks for reading.