'Bloody, stupid, immature, childish, fat, pain in the ass, nosey little American.' Arthur slammed his front door shut and threw his worn-out briefcase at his bed. Another world meeting had not gone his way, and he was blaming it all on Alfred. Brushing a hand through his blond hair, he went into the kitchen for a cuppa.
The whole meeting was just pointless arguing, as it always was. 'Why is the stupid American always in charge of the meetings anyways?', he said aloud, even though he was alone. The way he saw it, Alfred was still just a kid and nowhere near responsible. The only country who actually contributed to the meeting was Ivan, and he hadn't said a word.
The whistle of the kettle broke his little rant. The steam of the hot water helped clear his head a little bit. His tea swirled around, colouring the water. 'If I could just show that stupid American who he is in ten years. A washed up, overweight, diabetic with no friends because everybody is sick of him. Maybe that would straighten him out. If his country even lasts that long.' Arthur slowly sipped his tea poking at a rock hard biscuit.
He almost dropped the mug. 'Why can't I show him ten years into the future?' Now excited, he abandoned the spilled tea and ran to his basement. There were spell books neatly lining the shelves, he began to flip through them, tossing the useless ones into a pile on the floor.
He remembered seeing a certain spell that would surely help him, but he had never actually used it before. Finally the right spell caught his eye. One that allows you to glance into the future. Alfred could see the embarrassing mess he was sure to be in a couple years. Maybe he would show that perverted frog his future prison cell too.
Arthur decided to take a look by himself first, before showing Alfred, In case it was really bad. He wanted to scare the kid, but not put him into a full on panic. Most countries had never seen Alfred during a panic attack, but Arthur had.
The spell was relatively easy, a small string of Latin repeated, but after the third time the room began to fill with a pink smoke. Arthur was pretty sure that wasn't supposed to happen. He stopped chanting but the smoke only grew thicker, now he could barely see the basement door. The smoke was cold and grainy, it filled his lungs and clouded his mind. Coughing and choking he stumbled towards the blurry door, reaching for the knob but coming up empty. Now laying on the stairs, too weak to stand back up, he lost consciousness.