My first Hetalia fic. I know it's not all that great. It's supposed to be a stream of consciousness type thing. It really is more humorous, but if you don't like the stupid humor type thing then this fic. is not for you. I don't own Hetalia
It was a hot day in the middle of July. Sweat had passed the bead form and was now poring down his face and back. Lounging on the couch and watching T.V. was expending too much energy on this day and there seemed to be no consolation for this inhumanly hot weather.
His glasses slip down his nose as he flips another channel grunting from the exhaust of moving his thumb over the slimmy-with-salt-water buttons. The days were too long this time of year and there was never anything good going on.
As he looks at the televison and sees all the partiers at the beach he thinks of how much fun it would be if he could go to the beach and swim in the inevitably warm, yet cooler then air, water with his friends.
Wait, he doesn't have any friends. No matter. He'll just go and force the others to join him.
He brushes the blond locks out of his sticky face and lathargically moves off the now drenched couch. Oh, but the phone's so far away. Well, can't get anything without putting a little effort forth.
He picks up his phone, the red of his fingers almost matching the color. This heat was just too much; oh right he had to dial a number first.
Who first to call? Maybe the fantisy freak? Nah, he'll ruin it with all his odd "friends". Then how about the perverted frog? Nah, he'd enjoy the men swimming too much. What about the old culture nut? Nah, he's so quiet it's boring.
Then who? It seems like there is someone who is almost the exact same as him, sort of like a brother, but who? Oh, it was someone with...white hair? No, that can't be right. He doesn't know anyone with white hair. It must be someone from a colder climate, right? He had to be. It couldn't be hotter anywhere then here!
His glasses slip down his face as he stares intently at the numbers occupying the equipment in his hand. What letter did his name start with at least? A? No. B? No. C? C? C? Yeah. That sounds right. Oh yeah! That's it. Now, what was his number again? 867-5309. Wait, no. That was a song. It was, speed dial, right. Number 2.
The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three ti-. "Hello?" a voice answers. Who was it again? "Hello?" Oh well. He puts the phone back on the receiver.
"I'll call the fantisy freak."
The characters are America, England is the fantasy freak, France the perverted frog, Japan the culture nut, and Canada is the one on the phone. Please review (and please don't use vulgar language in the reviews. :) )