Chapter 2: When the Story Has SOME Sort Of Plot or The Advantages of Russian Friends
To Scotland's great relief, a group of world leaders entered the room looking rather pleased with themselves. Too pleased with themselves, mused Scotland. Obama walked up to the table of countries and cleared his throat. "Good news, ladies and... Well, actually, mostly gentlemen." "I resent tha'!" called an inebriated Ireland. "And I resent that I have to deal with you showing up everyday so drunk you can't even walk in a jagged line, let alone a straight on! Shut the hell up and let the poor man talk!" "Uh, thank you, Scotland... Anyway, we have arranged a year-long, world-wide publicity tour to bring awareness to the world's problems. All you countries will be taken around the world and have conferences. meetings, photo-ops, etc." Stuck in a tight space with every other nation in the world. Scotland gave Canada look that said, On the count of three, bash my head in with a hockey stick, alright? Obama finished his speech and left with the other leaders. The room broke into a frenzy of activity. Scotland felt a hand on her shoulder and detected the slight order of roses. Shit. "For the twentyseven thousandth, three hundredth and seventy-sixth time, I'm not sleeping with you tonight, nor will I ever." France ignored her comment and, putting an arm around her shoulder, slid into her chair. His arms were wrapped around her neck, his legs entwined with hers, his fingers tangled in her hair. "Oh, Ecosse, you are so adorable when you're feisty. It just turns me on." "Get the hell off me. Now." "Ah, but I rather like this seat, don't you?" Scotland wasn't entirely sure how she could get away from him without tipping the chair over. France had her in a well, let's just say provocative position. Anyone would have thought they were lovers- unless they knew Scotland. Scotland leaned back and the chair wobbled. Before Scotland had a chance to say another word, France was lifted off her and into the air. "You will stop bothering my friend, da?" "I was just joking around... You know..." "Well, that doesn't matter. You are making her uncomfortable, so you are going to leave now." France took a few huge steps back and scrambled away. "Russia, I can't thank you enough, lad. Tell you what, I'll buy you a bottle of vodka when we get to a liquor store." The Russian nodded, his ashy hair falling in his eyes. "Think nothing of it. He was hitting on Ukraine yesterday anyways."
Scotland had been sitting in the conference room for three hours. After the world leaders announced their news, there had been no hope of any order returning to the meeting, so everyone had just descended into chaos. Not that Scotland minded chaos. It made an excellent battle cover. It surprised a lot of people how many of her best strategies had come out of that one idea. But she was hungry. She got up, stretched, and announced into the mike (accidentally), "I'm gonna go get some lays." "SCOTLAND!" Wales did his traditional "Ooooh..." "What? I'm damn hungry!" "Oh.. Wait... Doesn't America have a potato chip brand called Lays?" There was a collective "Oh..." of recognition. Hungary went up to Scotland and started explaining something to her, but in Scotland's head, a crackly rendition of "Auld Lang Syne" played in her head, and she didn't hear a word. "Got it, Scotty?" "Oh, uh aye!" Hungary turned to Wales. "she din't get a word of that, did she?" "Nope. It always happens when ever anyone starts talking about so-called 'adult themes.' England calls it selective ADHD, but I think it comes from living France for so long..." The two Europeans watched the redhead search for a vending machine that took pence.
BTW, the "selective ADHD" or "Scottish Truant" joke will occur repeatedly. Very repeatedly. Here's how I found out about the stereotype:
Me: *is humming P!nk's U & Ur Hand*
My Friend "Zee": Do you even know what that song's about?
Me: No, why?
Zee: Well, it's about *censor censor censor censor censor censor censor censor censor censor.*
Me: Oh... Damn, I'm stupid.
Zee: No, you're just Scottish.
Me: Excuse me?
Zee: *explains stereotype*
Me *looks up* It's true...
So just a little explanation. Bai!