Lately, Belarus had had a small case of cabin fever. She had moped around Russia's place, too tired to even chase him and beg for marriage.
And so, mainly to get her out of his hair, Russia had suggested a vacation.
"Where?" Belarus had asked. "I don't really want to go anywhere."
"Why not America?" Russia had suggested.
"I don't like America," Belarus had said immediately.
"Please?" Russia had asked. "For me?"
"For . . . you?"
"Yes, sister."
"You mean to say," Belarus had asked, grabbing Russia's hands in hers, "that if I go on vacation to America, you will marry me when I return?"
"Yes, of course—wait, what!? No!"
"I shall make plans immediately, big brother!"
"Belarus!"
And that was how Belarus ended up on vacation in America. She walked down a street in Seattle, looking around at the buildings, unimpressed.
When big brother and I get married, our honeymoon will not be here, she thought to herself.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me, miss . . ."
She turned around. Someone was standing behind her. "Miss," he said, "can you tell me how to get to the EMP from here?"
"I'm not from around here, so I wouldn't know, would I?" she snapped.
"Oh, I'm sorry," the person said. "Uh, are you Russian?"
"No," she said. "But I will be soon."
"What?"
"My big brother and I are in love," she said, her eyes shining, "and we are getting married when I return home. Isn't that wonderful?"
"Uh . . ." the person didn't seem to know what to say. "Um . . ."
"I said," Belarus snarled, whipping out a knife and holding it to his throat, "isn't that wonderful?"
"Oh, Jesus!" he yelled, backing away.
"Say it's wonderful!" she yelled, attracting a lot of stares from passerby. "Say it!"
"Aah—aah—it's wonderful! Okay, it's wonderful! Put the friggin' knife away!"
She smiled. "Good. You're right—it is wonderful." She withdrew the knife from his throat and stowed it in her dress.
And then she felt another tap on her shoulder. As the first guy ran away, she turned around and snapped "What do you want?"
It was a policeman.
"Miss," he said, "I'm afraid threatening civilians is against the law. If you could come with me—"
"Oh, and where would you be taking me?" she asked. "Jail?"
"Possibly, miss. If you'll just come with me down to the station—"
She smiled sweetly at him. "Jail, hm? J-Jail? You w-want to put me in jail?"
"I—"
"NO WAY IN HELL!" she screamed, brandishing her knife at the policeman. While he flinched and grabbed a walkie-talkie to call for backup, she turned and fled.
In the process of leaping a fence in an alley, she ran smack into America, who stumbled.
"Dude, watch it!" he said, annoyed. "You almost made me drop my shake—oh, hey, Bela. What's up?"
"Your policemen are after me," she hissed, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Do something."
"What—the fuzz? What the hell did you do?"
"The usual."
He sighed. "Threatened someone with a knife, then threatened the police with the same knife?"
She nodded.
"Bela, come on, I've gotten you out of this exact situation god knows how many times—"
She took out her knife.
"—but it wouldn't hurt to do it again."
Belarus' greatest fear is imprisonment. Thank you to Juniper Night for this one!
