LADY GAGA

STEPHEN HAWKING TALKING DIRTY

THE BLOOD OF CHRIST

America ran outside, not before putting in his MP3 player and listening to some hardcore 'Born This Way'. "Lady Gaga has the best fighting music." he said to himself.

The storm was still stormy and he realized no one had followed him outside. He wished he had an umbrella, but then thought otherwise. "Brave the elements!" He yelled this and jumped into a puddle, only to slip and fall on his back. "Ouch!" He quickly got up when he heard thunder nearby and saw a lightning bolt strike a tree in the distance. This wasn't the first time he had left a world meeting in search of England. In fact this was his fifth time.

The first time, England was sick and went home, and America followed him. The second time, England left the room after a nasty argument with France, and America followed him. The third time, England was called out of the meeting and America followed him only to find out that he wasn't supposed to follow him, and was then sent back into the meeting room. The meeting had been private, with England and his supervisors. The fourth time, England had realized he'd dropped his phone outside after entering the meeting, so America ran after him. In all those cases, America followed him out the room to help him, excluded case number 3… and he also left to bug him. That was one of his favorite hobbies.

This time of course was to find the Brit. America wasn't enjoying the storm one bit. Despite Lady Gaga playing in his ears, he couldn't help but freak out thanks to high winds.

*.*.*

Germany pulled out a stack of papers. Russia, China, Italy, and France remained in the room so far. He read over the papers, leaving not one word unread.

Italy sat, still in a daze from Mother Mary's visit. "I'm going to be a father." No one listened. "We're all going to be fathers. God said so."

Russia, in the meantime, had pulled out a flask of vodka and had began drinking it. China had at first seemed indifferent to Russia's drinking, but apparently stopped feeling indifferent when Russia finished the flask and pulled out an entire bottle of vodka from his big, fluffy coat. The old country spoke up. "Why are you doing that here-aru?"

"What do you mean?" Russi asked innocently, taking another long sip of the potato alcohol.

"No one is here, but this is still a world meeting."

"Vodka calms me." The tall nation handed the bottle over to China, who instantly denied it.

"I don't want your potato drink-aru!"

"But it's good." Russia frowned a terrifying frown. "Why not?"

China crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want it. That's why."

The nation looked sad. He hugged the vodka to his chest, and then drank the rest of the large bottle. "Fine." He seemed unmoved from the large amount of alcohol he had just ingested. "More for me, I guess." He pulled out another bottle, even bigger than before. China slammed his own face against the table in annoyance.

While this was going on, France was brushing his long, flowing, gorgeous blond hair with a comb. He turned to the distraught Italian friend of his. "What's the matter?" he asked with concern.

"My life is a lie." Italy said sadly, emptily almost. "God said so. I know the afterlife. There's no hell. I'm confused."

"There isn't?" France was surprised.

"I said that fifteen minutes ago. You didn't listen to me, did you?"

"Non, I was looking for England."

"America's outside doing that right now."

"I confined myself to this room. I'm not going out there in the rain and wind. My hair will get damaged!"

"That's a shame." Italy laughed without any joy. "Don't you care enough about England to go search for him?"

"Of course!" France was offended. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Really?"

"Oui."

"That's good to hear. I was getting worried." Italy suddenly perked up. "Maybe life isn't over. After this meeting I'll go home and make pasta!"

"You can also come to my place if you want." France said.

"Oh grazie! I would love to, big brother France! Of course only after I eat pasta."

"Call me when you're coming over."

Germany looked up from his papers. "I thought we were going to my place after this, Italy."

Italy suddenly looked slightly guilty. "Well, after France's place, I can go to yours…"

"Honhonhon~" France smiled. "What are you two going to do?"

"Nothing of your concern." Germany stated matter-of-factly.

Japan, seemingly invisible as he sat silently, took out a notebook and randomly scribbled something down about one of his OTPs.

*.*.*

England had managed to free himself from the vampire's grasp. "You bloody wanker! I'll burn you for that!" He fiercely wiped his mouth after the unwanted kiss between the two occurred. Luckily he wasn't bitten. "You're sick!"

The vampire made a weird growling noise. "Not at all. I'm hungry." The monster suddenly teleported behind the English man and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Hungry for you."

England elbowed the vampire in the nose. The man fell back, grabbing at his now broken piece of face. "You fail at being a proper gentleman, and you even fail at being a vampire. Hahaha!" England high-fived himself, a habit he was used to doing because he was lonely.

The vampire hissed and lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. England slapped himself in his mind for being so careless. He fought the man off of him, kicking the vampire in the groin. He got up and reached into his chest pocket, pulling out a pencil. A sharp, sharp pencil. "Oh no!" The monster yelped, scooting back as the green-eyed nation approached him. "Not that! Anything but that!"

"Are you afraid of this? A pencil? Or… a wooden stake?" England raised the pencil above his head, kneeling down over the vampire, ready to drive the weapon into the man's neck. "As I thought; you are afraid of this." He stabbed down the pencil into the neck of the beast. The beast writhed and yelled as he shriveled to dust. The country stood, dusted himself off, and tried to find his way out of the wet, stony mausoleum.

A scrambling noise came from behind him, and a ton of whiny childish, beastly whelps sounded around him. England began panicking, searching for the stairs. Whatever was surrounding him didn't sound friendly.

In the darkness, he tripped over an open stone coffin. Why it was open, he did not know. All he knew was that he was now being forced by many small, sharp-nailed hands into the stone coffin. A body, all bones, was already in there with him. He screamed as the lid was pulled over, the only thing keeping him access to any oxygen was him putting his hand where the lid was going to slide over and finish the sealing process. His hand was crushed, but there was enough room for him to have access to air coming in and out. At least he could breath.

*.*.*

America wondered briefly, Where can Iggy be? Then he realized England was probably somewhere dark and mysterious. Considering there was a cemetery nearby, he went into it although his gut said not to. He was the hero, after all.

In the cemetery was a mausoleum. America guess that's where his England would be. After all, you can't spell mausoleum without an E, and E is in England, so the two fit perfectly together. "I hate this." America admitted, opening the door and lighting his way down the stony stairs with his phone, being careful not to slip. That's when he heard a familiar voice yell for help. "Iggy, is that you?!"

"Of course it's me, dammit!" England sounded frustrated and irritated. America followed his voice. He realized he was standing by a bunch of coffins when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Whoa bro, where are you?"

"In here!"

America realized then that HERE was in a coffin. He also spotted England's reddened fingers making space between the coffin cover and box edge. Everything that wasn't shined on by America's phone was black as night. "What are you doing in there?"

"Just get me out, would you?"

America quickly pushed off the coffin lid, eyes widening when he saw the skeleton his fellow nation was laying on. He was scared, but somewhat turned on. He could see England was slightly bruised and bloody. He helped England get out of the coffin, and carry him up the slippery stairs.

When the two were out of the mausoleum, England realized America hadn't noticed the dead vampire in the darkness or all the little vampire monsters that had surrounded him before the git went downstairs and found him. He decided against speaking of what happened.

"How did you get so injured?" America asked, helping England walk back to the meeting room.

"For one, all the disasters happening at home. I also fell down those stairs. You saw they were wet and slippery."

"But how did you get in that coffin?"

England thought for a moment, and then replied with, "It was dark and I dropped my phone in a puddle when I fell. I was looking for a way out and fell into the coffin by mistake. I was startled by landing on a dead body and accidentally moved the lid over the coffin, crushing my fingers which as you can see, are now broken." His fingers he had to create a hole to breath from with the coffin were indeed broken.

America didn't really believe all the story, but he chose to avoid the topic after England's answer.

*.*.*

Italy was bored so he prank called Stephen Hawking after finding his phone number on the internet.

"WHO IS THIS?" asked Stephen Hawking.

"Ciao, I'm from Italy and it doesn't matter where you're from. I just need to know when you're… talking dirty to me." Italy sort of knew the song 'Talk Dirty To Me', but only so much.

"I'LL NAIL YOU TO MY BED AND TAKE MY LONG **** AND **** YOU UNTIL BLOOD COMES OUT YOUR *** AND YOU CAN'T WALK. WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU-"

Italy hung up on the phone call because things were getting awkward. "Who was that?" France asked, looking at Italy whose expression was of shock.

"Stephen Hawking…"

"What?"

"Stephen Hawking was talking dirty to me."

"Non, that can't be…"

"It's true, though, unless that was an impostor Stephen Hawking."

"Impostor?"

"Maybe they used a voice changer? I found his number on the internet."

Germany glanced over at Italy. "What did you say about Stephen Hawking talking dirty to you?"

"... Haha, nothing." Italy looked away. He had to admit, the dirty talk was sort of arousing.

*.*.*

England entered the room with America. France quickly ran over to the two of them. "Why do you look so beat up?" he asked worriedly.

"No reason. I just got a little thrashing from the storm and some slippery stones and whatnot." England said.

America laughed proudly, "And I saved him! I'm the HERO!"

"Cool." Italy bounced over to them. "Maybe we can party now- FOR THE BLOOD OF CHRIST! OH MY GOD!"

"What is it?" France flipped out, along with everyone else in the room and the sudden outburst.

"The-the-there…" Italy pointed a shaky finger behind England. "What is tha-that thing?"

A croaking sound came from behind the brit. England turned around and saw a child-like creature that had gray skin and red eyes and a wide, toothy smile. It had sharp fingers and no clothing. It was almost like a human blob. Everyone but Italy and himself seemed oblivious to the disturbing, ghoulish creature behind him. England stepped away from the creature, starting to fall back, only to have France catch him. "Is there something there?" the Frenchman asked.

"... No." England narrowed his eyes. Everyone else couldn't see it, but for some reason Italy could. He was deep in thought. He chose to ignore the thing. "There's nothing there."

Germany stood up, announcing, "Let's get back to the meeting, shall we?"

Everyone agreed but Italy, who felt very singled out. After a minute or two of blank staring, the monster vanished from thin air. The nation blinked a few times, then joined seats with everyone else. He sat next to Japan.

"What is the matter, Italy?" Japan asked.

Italy thought for a moment, and then answered, "Nothing is wrong. I guess this storm is just throwing me off." He decided when he'd get home, before pasta, he'd pray for God to forgive him of his strong misuse of the Lord's name.

Japan knew something was off about his friend, but he didn't say anything.

Germany was finally relieved for the meeting to be back in order. "Now what are we going to do about the storm?"