Entry 2, here we go!


Dear Journal,

I fucking hate Russians.

Not only do they scare the shit out of me, they somehow manage to pop up from just about anywhere; and I don't mean places like around the corner of the street or at the marketplace. Today, Ivan popped up out of my goddamned closet. Don't even ask me how the hell he even got in there, let alone my house, but he did. It scared me to no end. Since when am I the target of that damn Russian? Why not someone closer!? Why not Francis, since nobody would give a damn if he was kidnapped!?

So here's how it all happened:

I was cooking pasta for lunch again, making an extra portion for that tomato bastard as I sometimes did on the weekends (Antonio is getting really lazy when it comes to cooking meals for himself, so I'm bringing him food on some weekends during the month. I sure as hell am not letting him eat that stuff Francis is offering him all the time...it might be laced with some kind of date-rape drug or whatever. After that Christmas party incident, I have to make sure Antonio doesn't get into any more trouble, that jackass bastard! He's giving me even more work to do!). As soon as I finished cooking the pasta, I got it all prepared in containers and put it in a large brown bag for easy transportation and stuff. So then, I headed towards my hallway closet to get my coat, since it was still winter and all. And what do you know? Suddenly, some fucking insane Russian pops out of the closet and grabs me! It was that sadistic freak, Ivan! I was freaked out, and I sure as hell wished someone was there to save me, damn it!

"Ready to become one with Mother Russia, da?" Why does that phrase sound so fucked up? In more ways than one? Anyways, the vodka bastard picked me up and headed towards the door, laughing like some insane child! He was about to kidnap me then and there, and there was nobody around to save me! Well, Feliciano was close enough, but I'm pretty sure that wimp wouldn't save me at all on his own. "I'll stop by your brother's house too," Ivan hummed merrily. Just what the fuck goes on his mind?! I was still shouting for help, squirming around to escape the bastard's iron grip. At that point, I had lost all hope. It was all Antonio's fault, damn it! Suddenly, the potato bastard broke down the door, Feliciano trembling behind him like the wimp he is. Feliciano was wailing, "Uwaaah! I told you, Ludwig! He's kidnapping Big Brother!! Uwaah!" Shut the fuck up, you wimp... God, I just hate the sound of his wailing. Its almost as bad as how that goddamn Arthur cooks.

Even though I hate his guts, I owe Ludwig big time. He's just as scary as Ivan, so Ivan sighed and admitted defeat. That jackass put me down, patted my head, and walked out as if nothing happened! What the hell!? I was tempted to throw something at his head; but as it was Ivan, I just ignored the desire.

Feliciano started wailing about how scary Ivan is, and Ludwig started trying to comfort me and Feliciano at the same time. That fucker... I don't need his sympathy! He can take his patronizing words and shove it down his own throat, along with those slimy potatoes and wursts of his! I'm not like Feliciano, who clings to anyone that protects him. I can kick ass just like anyone else. Really! I just haven't really felt like doing it lately, so that's why!

So, yeah. I hate Russians. AND GERMANS! That potato freak is going to get his ass kicked if he breaks down my door like that again, leta lone tries to befriend me! Now I have to cook more goddamn pasta for Antonio, since Ivan made me drop it all over the floor. Wait till I tell Antonio about this, and I'll make sure he chokes on the guilt! He almost got me freaking kidnapped, damn it! I have to fix my door to, so I better throw that in too.

Also, why do people say Antonio and I look like a freaking couple!? We're not a couple, nor will we ever be. Don't they understand how fucked up that idea is!? The next person that "Awwww...."s at us is getting his or her vocal cords ripped out and trampled on. We're not fags at all! Even if Antonio is (which he isn't!!!), I sure as hell am straight.

~Lovino Vargas