Chapter Four: Wisdom Means Knowing When To Throw A Harpoon At Something
"No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it's only a question of degree." - W.C Fields
"Where the bloody hell is that girl? She's already a half hour late!" Britain huffed, crossing his arms and pacing back and forth across the meeting room floor.
"Patience, Angleterre," France soothed as he reclined in his chair. "I am sure that Amerique is on her way right as we speak. She was probably just getting one of her horrid fast foods and lost track of the time."
"She'd better be," Britain growled. "I swear, I am going to have to give her a serious talking to about punctuality! This is the third meeting in a row she's been tardy to!"
France chuckled lightly at the Brit's antics. He always loved to see the nation so worked up. It made him look so cute, and so very fun to tease! The Frenchman ran a delicate hand through his long blond hair and turned to look at Canada, who was sitting beside him. The boy had a slightly nervous look on his face and every so often he shifted slightly in his seat.
France raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Mathieu? Something on your mind?"
Canada looked up, startled that he was being noticed. "Huh? Oh, no, Francis! I-I was just thinking about something that happened this morning is all. It's nothing serious!"
"Oh, come now, cher, you can tell your Papa!" France cooed, snaking an arm around his former colony's shoulders and pulling him closer. "Whatever is bothering you bothers me as well! Surely you know this!" France gave his best sexy-pouty face and Canada sighed.
"Well," he began, looking up to make sure none of the other nations (who were busy screaming and beating the crap out of each other) were listening in. "I got a really weird phone call from America this morning. She was all riled up and yelling something about how her house got broken into last night. A-and how she was going on an 'epic quest' to find out who the culprit was."
France frowned. "That's it?" He said, a little disappointed. "America hunting down criminals is nothing new. Why is this worrisome?"
"Because," said Canada, playing with his hands. "In the background I heard some really weird noises. Like, squealing and stuff. Then she screamed about someone digging up her flower beds and hung up on me!"
Britain, who had been secretly listening to the conversation, stopped pacing and turned to face the two men. "Digging up her flower beds?" He said, raising an enormous eyebrow. "The bloody hell does that mean?"
This was when France began to laugh. The France laugh. And when France did the France laugh, it was never a good sign.
Never.
"You tosser, what are you on about?" Britain said, both scared and confused.
"Don't you see?" France said with a wide and incredibly devilish smile. Canada and Britain shook their heads. France sighed dramatically, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "'Flower beds' is a key word for something." He said.
"Key word for what?" Asked Canada, not liking at all where this was going.
France smirked and motioned for the younger nation to lean in closer. He then proceeded to whisper something into the boy's ear, and that something caused him to both scream like he was being murdered and blush furiously in the same instant.
"WH-WH-WHAT!?" He exclaimed, falling into his chair and crashing fabulously onto the floor. "FRANCE! You-you can't seriously think that AMELIA-"
"What!?" Cried Britain, immediately frowning at the negative mention of his (not so) little girl. "What about Amelia!?"
"Ohonhonhonhonhon! Mon innocent Angleterre, don't you see?" France said, laughing more loudly. "Flower beds? Squealing noises in the background? Petite Amerique being late all the time? It's all obviously due to the fact that she's having... relations with someone at her home. From the sound of things, very, honhonhonhon... LOUD relations indeed."
Britain blinked.
He thought for a second.
And then he drew his gun out from within his shirt.
He cleared his throat.
"Excuse me, gentlemen." He said, deathly calm. "But it seems I have something (someone) I need to take care of." He turned to leave the room, but just before he could, the two heavy doors burst open, and in stalked a very... haggard looking United States of America.
By, haggard, I mean covered in dark red blood. From head to toe.
Oh, and clutching a gigantic bloody harpoon in one hand as well.
The meeting room went deathly silent. All eyes were fixated on the sight before them.
America breathed heavily into the now quiet atmosphere, and her eyes shown with a manic glare of triumph that sent fear trickling down the spines of everyone in the room. Except for a certain Russian man that found himself blushing heavily at how pretty America looked covered in blood.
The girl took a few steps into the room and wiped her grimy cheek with the back of her hand.
Then she smirked.
"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late!" She said cheerily to the shocked nations of the world. "I had a little business to take care of back home. But it's all finished now so here I am!" She walked towards the table and took a seat, leaning her bloody harpoon up against the side. No one spoke, and America tilted her head to the side curiously. "What's the matter, guys? You all look like you just pooped your pants."
A hundred mouths dropped open at once, but before any of them could thoroughly freak the fuck out, Britain beat them all to it.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU MEAN 'WHAT"S THE MATTER!?'" He exploded, his eyes wide and a tiny bit of foam forming at the corner of his mouth. "You waltz in here carrying a WHALING HARPOON soaked in GOD KNOWS WHOSE BLOOD, and you expect us to NOT ASK QUESTIONS!?"
America stared down at her weapon as though she was seeing it for the first time.
"Oh, this," she said simply, then smiled widely. "Well, some wild pigs broke into my house last night at busted a whole bunch of my stuff up! They even ruined my flower beds that I worked so hard to grow, can you believe that? Anyway, I was just gonna shoot 'em all and be done with it, but then I thought, 'Hey! I haven't used the harpoon to kill anything in awhile! I'll use that!' And well, one thing led to another and here I am!" America threw her head back and laughed her obnoxious laugh.
The rest of the world remained silent in both awe and terror of what they had just heard.
France spoke first this time.
"Awwwwww," he said, sticking out his lower lip in a deep pout. "You mean you WEREN'T having mind blowing sex while the rest of us toiled at this awful meeting?"
America shook her head. "Nope!" She said cheerily. "No sex. Just a lot of harpoony-stabby stuff. Sorry to disappoint."
Canada and Britain, despite their shock, let out simultaneous breaths of relief. At the far end of the room, Russia was still blushing hotly, even more so with the knowledge that America had actually killed something with her actions. He sighed dreamily and leaned his head cheek into his palm, his cold heart beating just a little bit faster.
America laughed again, and moved that they all continue the meeting (which meant that everyone could forget what they had just seen and go back to fighting stupidly with one another). Everyone was more than happy to do this, and for the rest of the meeting they all tried their best to ignore the salty tang of blood than hung in the air, and the still crazed grin of a certain American across the way.