December 1, 2012
"What to do, What to do.." murmured Italy as he ducked his pen over his pouting mouth. "Should I make a letter to Japan or Germany?"
He stared at the glass window beside him where the sun shined brightly across the green meadows. Some girls who were picking tomatoes and saw Italy. They winked at him as they passed through his house. Italy gave them a wave and an Italian smile.
"Oh I know!" he took his black ballpen and a piece of paper. CLICK! his pen's heel went. And he started to write off.
Dear Germany,
How are you?! Is the economy looking up there fine,ve? I just heard from Kiku that you'll the one hosting this year winter Olympics? Ve! This is really exciting! I can't wait to teach you a new sport that Big Brother France taught me! And he also told me that I could make a tastier pasta with wine. He said that putting a lot of the wine could make it better. So I did but Big Brother Romano snatched it before I could taste it. Too bad! But after a while; Spain called to my house and told me that fratello came banging in his house saying 'Flying to-
~Maru kaite chikyuu!
Jitto mite chikyuu!
Hyotto shite chikyuu!
Boku Hetalia!~
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!
"V-Ve!? In the middle of my letter?" Italy's mouth dropped when his pockets brown eyes was thinking whether to answer his phone or to continue on writing about how Romano had to stay in Spain's house to recover from his pasta-overload. Then again it could be very important..
He took out his slender white phone and glanced down. Italy's cheerfulness vanished in seconds. So it is important..he on his heel, he strode out his room leaving an unfinished letter to Germany. He went to his bedroom and took out a suitcase. He threw a pair of socks, some t-shirts and pasta-canister in it.
He immediately ran outside and thankfully a taxi was nearby. He hailed it and panted heavily. The driver was a buggy-bald man wearing a white polo.
"Where to?"
"Please take me to the city quickly." answered Italy while entering the taxi.
The driver's eyes widened. "But that's fifty miles aw-"
"Money won't be a problem." wailed Italy. The driver sighed in defeat and turned the engine on. "Fine."
"Gracie!" smiled Italy.
"What are you even gonna do in the city in this kind of day?" asked the driver to the anxious Italian who was staring at his phone.
"Ve? Oh nothing much..." whispered Italy, focused on the picture in his phone. "I'm just being called to my work."
"So where do you work?" asked the driver while taking a hard left turn. Italy ignored the question and stared on his phone.
A black cross pulsed gently on the LCD screen. It was a picture only nations can read without alerting humans of the what is really happening with the world. On this matter, Italy was deeply curious on why this certain person wants to talk to him. But it wasn't just the certain someone; it was an entire group who wishes to talk to him and his brother.
The picture represented the Vatican.
