Part Two:
Especially when Russia glows purple and mesmerizes everyone with his belly dancing routine.
("Don't worry little man. I brought eggnog." Russia pat England's head, "And I brought entertainment."
"You did?" France questioned.
"I did." Russia produced a creepy laugh, and a purple glow. And this is how the nightmare began.)
The purple glow was frightening enough, but he just had to take the coat off, didn't he?
"Music, maestro." he was wearing something out of a Bollywood fashion magazine…and someone slapped themselves in horror when they had the thought that Russia actually didn't look so bad in the costume. (But wait author, I'm proud to be openly gay. Oh, right, Spain. Sorry.)
That's when it happened. His stomach moved. And then it moved again. And again. And again and again and again and again. Russia began to dance around the room to some strange song that sounded like the Spanish guitar version of the death march.
He poured eggnog into everyone's glasses with pride on his face. Sure, they looked like they'd all just woken up from the dead, (except for the Baltics, Belarus and Japan's neutral faces) but they had to be liking it. It wasn't everyday he belly danced.
When the music ended, Russia bowed and put his coat back on.
"Well that was purely frightening." China commented.
"Tell me about it." America agreed, looking horrified.
Russia grinned, "Did you like?"
"Like, oh my gosh, I feel my rice pastries and fish coming up." Poland ran to the bathroom to puke rainbows.
England was already regretting throwing a Christmas party, and it'd only been an hour.