Chapter 1: The Day That All Men Fear
"Being a Woman is a terribly difficult task,
since it consists principally in dealing with men," - Joseph Conrad
It was the day that every man in the world had grown to fear. The day that the tallest mountains crumbled, the mightiest seas boiled away to nothing, and every single last male in existence was in danger of losing his manhood, depending of course upon what he chose to say in the presence of a certain female nation.
Yes, it was that monthly date, the one that everyone had written expressly down in their calendars so as to be prepared.
Prepared for the rampage of the beast.
And it was on this day, on a balmy beautiful afternoon in July, that someone forgot to warn someone of the impending date of doom, and that a certain unfortunate Prussian man, who shall here remain nameless, made the terribly unwise choice to speak ill of the precarious economic state of the country of a one Ms. United States of America.
A.K.A, the beast.
"Hey there, America," Prussia said with a smirk, folding his arms and looking down upon the girl in front of him as condescendingly as possible. "I hear your economy hasn't been doing so hot lately. Maybe it's because everyone in the world has finally gotten sick of buying those pathetic excuses for products you keep turning out."
America looked up, blue eyes filled with cold malice. A vein twitched in her temple, and all around her male nations flattened themselves against the walls in fear, all the while wondering what the hell Prussia thought he was doing. Didn't he know what day it was?
"That's funny, Gilbert," America said lowly, dangerously. "That's real fucking funny. You got anything else funny to say to me? Or were you just planning on standing there like an idiot and breathing my air all damn day?" Her tone was laden with unspoken threats. The nations of the world all stopped what they were doing around the two to watch what was most likely about to become a very messy encounter.
Prussia frowned. "Now listen here, bitch," he said/yelled, leaning in closer to America's face. "Nothing gives you the right to speak to the awesome me in such a manner. I was only pointing out the complete fuck-wad that is your economy. Or have all those burgers you've been eating finally fattened up your brain as well?"
There was a shocked gasp from the audience, from a certain Brit in particular, and a cold wind suddenly swept the room, making everyone shiver.
America's eyes were shadowed as she calmly reached up and grasped the collar of Prussia's neatly pressed uniform. She then promptly ran her dainty knee into the silver-haired man's crotch, causing him to sputter and swear and cry all in one instant.
There was a resounding and slightly pained "Ooooooooooooooooo" from the spectators.
It was on this day that the unfortunate Prussian man found himself viciously hurled through the fifth story window of the meeting hall he and his companions had selected for their conference, all the while screaming like a bitch. For years after that moment, he would swear to all who would listen that he had seen the face of the devil that day, when in fact it had simply been the very pissed-off glare of a very powerful nation on her monthly cycle.
Glass flew everywhere, and every man in the room instantly fell to their knees in terror, some clutching their manhood, others praying to whatever deities they worshipped that they would be spared from the American's wrath.
America smoothed out her clothes and ran a hand in her hair, the sound of Prussia's bones crunching on the pavement below like music to her ears. She looked around.
"Anyone else got a problem?" She shouted at the nations of the world. In tandem, every last one of them frantically shook their heads, a few even going so far as to say "No Ma'am!"
America smirked evilly and placed a hand on her hip. "Good," she said. "I didn't feel like getting blood on my clothes today anyway."
The male nations all gulped, while in the corner of the room the female nations were all giggling like mad, even the normally stoic Belarus fighting off a few chuckles. Yes, this time of the month was always the most entertaining for them, and they hoped that it would be this way for many years to come.
Because really, nothing beat the shit-your-pants-scared look of a two-hundred-year-old man cowering below a table in fear of a young girl on her period.
Nothing at all.
Hey Ya'll! So this is a bit of a new thing for me. A new fandom. A new set of characters. But, I hope that by running this little series of one-shots, it'll help cure me of my writer's block so I can get back to my other stories. Please leave comments telling me if this is something you think I should continue. Until next time! - Mikki