Sorry for the long wait. I was a bit burned out, creatively-speaking, and then I found I was appointed recording secretary for my DAR Chapter (Daughters of the American Revolution) so I have been trying to get up to snuff with my new duties. Plus, I've had a nasty cold for a week or so. And I still have a ton of other things to do over the next few weeks.
Käsekopf
It had been a couple months since the gathering for America's tales about his married life. The nations were convening for a world conference at the U.N. to discuss the latest round of dire issues…and promptly forget about them as the nations fell into their usual patterns of bickering and fist-fighting.
America had been skirting around the inquiring looks from his group of confidants, though he knew he'd have to call them back for another get-together. in the future America just wasn't sure how he was going to get through more of the story. Things only got worse after where he'd left off. The war for Texas had been the bitterest incident in the family's history until the Civil War. In fact, the war with Mexico had been one of the contributing factors to the Civil War.
Definitely not something America liked to think on too deeply. American public schools glossed over serious details in American history for a reason, after all. It was much easier to think of events as 'us: good guys' and 'our enemies: bad guys' than to consider that, just maybe, he wasn't always the hero he tried to be.
America was shaken from this depressing reverie by a strange shaking sensation reverberating through the U.N. building. The other nations soon sensed it, too, and began to cease their feuding.
It was into this stunned assembly that Illinois bolted, slamming the doors shut behind him as he panted breathlessly.
"Dad! Yuh gotta help me!" he shouted when he caught sight of America.
"Alphonse, did you get into an argument with the Chicago mafia, again?" said America, causing Romano, further down the table, to shriek and duck for cover at the mention of the mafia.
"No." Illinois actually seemed offended by that. "The newest boss and I are buds." America wasn't sure if he should be relieved or horrified by that fact. "No, it's thaht cheese-chuggin', brewski-blowin' douche of a brother ah'mine."
"What did you do to get Wisconsin mad at you?" America said, bewildered. "He's one of the most easy-going members of the family."
"YUH DAMNED F.I.B.," a heavily-accented Midwestern voice called out. "GIVE ME BACK MY ACCORDION!"
"You stole Will's accordion?" America said incredulously. "Seriously, Alphonse?"
"He was irritatin' me, Dad," Illinois said. "Yuh know I fuckin' hate accordion music. I don't see how it's my fault Willie is such a cheesehead."
At that moment, an engine rev could be heard outside the conference room doors before a snowmobile plowed through them. The figure driving the snowmobile was a teenaged boy with short yellow-blonde hair which had been slicked back, save for a bit of a messy cowlick on one side. His striking, light blue eyes were narrowed in rage as he zoned in on his brother. The boy was dressed in a green and yellow football jersey which clung to a clearly muscular build. The weirdest thing of all, though, was how much the boy looked like Germany.
If the nations thought they'd seen the end of states bearing startling resemblances to their colleagues, they were very much mistaken.
"GIVE. ME. MY. ACCORDION!" the boy screamed furiously at the cowering Illinois as he loomed from the snowmobile.
"For goodness' sake, Alphonse," said America, turning to Illinois, who was seeking refuge by hiding behind him. "Give Wisconsin the accordion back."
"I-I'm not afraid of Willie," Illinois stammered out unconvincingly.
"YOU BEAR-FUCKIN' SHIT," Wisconsin yelled, face red. "IF YUH DON'T GIMME MY ACCORDION, I SWEAR I'LL SHOVE A CHEDDAR LOG SO FAR UP YUR ASS DEY COULD MARKET YUH AS A NEW KIND OF 'EASY CHEESE' CAN!"
The accordion came flying across the room from the hands of the terrified Illinois. Wisconsin caught his precious instrument with ease and his demeanor underwent an immediate shift. His features softened, his eyes sparkled, and a gentle, honest smile spread over his face. To those who had had the rare pleasure of seeing Germany smile sincerely (and not his horrifying forced smile when he was trying too hard to be friendly), it was much like that. A sweet, innocent phenomenon which caused onlookers' hearts to patter in a way that was both pleasant and confusing.
"Hiya, youse guys," Wisconsin said, waving at the nations. "Sorry 'bout dat dere ruckus I just made. But dis here accordion is very special to me and I don't like when little, Liberal morons what are stupid enough to like da Chicago Bears mess wid it, don'tcha know."
"I should be offended," Illinois said quietly. "But I'm just too fuckin' freaked out, right now."
"Will, what are you kids even doing here?" said America. "I thought you were having a state conference in D.C."
"Well, we was, believe you me," said Wisconsin. "But all dose bleedin' heart lefties from da nord'east and dat dere west coast just kept whinin' and gripin' and carryin' on. And California started buggin' me 'bout why I won't sign dat stupid impeachment bill or fund sanctuary cities. Does she t'ink I'm stupid or some'in'?"
"She probably just forgot you're not on her side of the political spectrum. You know how scatterbrained she can be."
"Dis is all 'cause I had dat one, short Commie phase in da late eighteen-hundreds. For cripe's sake, I was da birthplace of da Republican party. Why can't folks just leave me and my political views alone, yuh know? If dey don't like da way I am, dey can talk to Minnesota. She's so far in da Blue she's hypothermic. She's so Blue yuh could market her as a new kind of Roquefort. Minnesota is so Blue dat-"
"All right, we get it!" Illinois snapped.
"Who asked you, yuh F.I.B.?"
"Okay, dudes," America spoke up, raising his hands in a placating fashion. "You've both had your says. No more accordion thefts and no more menacing each other with snowmobiles."
Wisconsin made a disappointed "Aww" noise when America mentioned no more snowmobile-related threats.
"Fine," Wisconsin grumbled. "I got what I wanted. If yuh'll 'scuse me, I'm goin' fishin' wid Michigan." Wisconsin put the snowmobile in reverse and began to loudly sing as he backed out of the room, "Mein bratwurst has a first name: It's F-R-I-T-Z. Mein bratwurst has a second name, it's-"
The awkward silence which followed Wisconsin's departure was broken by Prussia belting out in hysterical laughter and banging his fist against the table while, perched on his head, Gilbird tweeted his own equivalent of his master's cackle. Germany, for his part, was bright red in embarrassment and trying – and failing – to pretend that he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.
"Ve~ That state looked kind of familiar," Veneziano thought aloud. "Germany, do you know where we might have seen him before?"
Prussia tried to bury his laughs behind his hands, causing it to come out sounding like a series of choked snorts. Germany sighed and shook his head patiently.
"It is a good thing I find your naivety so endearing," Germany said quietly.
After hastily ushering Illinois out the door and trying to ignore the weird looks the other nations gave him following this latest disruption caused by one of his children, America was able to more-or-less get through the meeting and the remainder of the conference and finally head over to the house in D.C. where the states were residing while they had their own conference.
"Dudes, we need to talk," America called out as he walked through the door.
Only to freeze as he saw the chaos that ruled within his living room. The floors and walls were pasted over with a variety of legal documents and bills, some of which had been scribbled on in various shades of crayons – something the states tended to do when editing them before passing them on to Congress. All the states were jammed into the living room, having moved as many sofas and chairs into the space as possible, and were sitting around arguing about every issue the nation was currently facing and how they could fix it. The younger states were sitting on cushions on the floor and turning to look every which way when one of their louder older siblings said something – save for Hawaii, who had snagged a chair from the dining room and was leaning her seat back while propping her feet up on the coffee table; she frequently chimed in with her own opinions and was just as capable (if not better) at hurling potent insults as the other states. At the head of it all, poor Delaware stoically weathered the storm of political opinions being flung back and forth and tried to keep everyone's attention on the issues at hand.
"…Now, I know you haven't liked many of my ideas in the past," said Delaware in a measured, low tone. "Like switching to the metric system."
"The metric system is the tool of the Devil!" Indiana exclaimed fiercely, bashing her fist against the armrest of her seat. "My car gets forty rods to the hogshead, and that's the way I likes it."
"Hoosie, sweetheart," said Iowa. "Just take a deep breath and think about what Michael Jackson would do."
Indiana did so and immediately seemed to brighten.
"Better?" said Iowa, earning a quiet nod. "Here, have a deep-friend doughnut."
Washington was sobbing about something in a corner while a clearly uncomfortable Oregon was gingerly attempting to console him. Idaho was chucking potatoes at the more vocally entitled states while Utah sat beside him pretending not to notice what his little brother was doing. The Southern and Northern states were chewing each other out rather vehemently, as usual, and Kentucky, Missouri, and Delaware were stuck in the middle of the verbal barbs (as they often were). Texas was shooting off pistols whenever she got worked up about something, leaving an interesting pattern of bullet holes in the ceiling. And Kansas kept pleading for everyone to calm down and be nice to each other.
Thankfully, the three little states on the floor remained mostly unaffected by all the fuss. Alaska even got bored and curled up next to her husky puppy, Sitka, and pulled out a coloring book to occupy her time.
Finally, America grabbed the nearest state to get some answers. The nearest state just so happened to be Wisconsin…who was swaying from side to side and looking even cheerier than normal.
"Wisconsin, are you drunk, again?" said America.
"Just a couple-two-three. It's too cold to be sober."
"It's summer."
"Dere's never a wrong time for a beer."
"Please tell me you didn't get any beer within arm's reach of Penn-"
"'Sup, bitches!" Sylvia's high cackle ripped through the room. "Let's get this party started, losers!"
"Oh my God," America said quietly. "I bet Canada doesn't have to put up with stuff like this."
Meanwhile, up in Ottawa, Canada had returned home to find Ontario, Quebec, and British Columbia all beating the ever-loving hell out of each other while the other kids cheered the fight on – except for tiny, little Nunavut, who grabbed hold of her papa's legs when he walked through the door.
"G-Guys, please, break it up, eh," Canada said.
"You're not the boss of me!" Quebec snapped at his father before aiming a kick at Ontario's ribs.
"It's all right, Papa," Saskatchewan said quietly beside her father. "They're just practicing for hockey season."
"But that's months away," said Canada.
"They are very determined."
"Woohoo!" Alberta cheered. "Get 'em, Quebec! Nice punch Ontario! Whoo, great dope-slap, BC!"
"Who are you even rooting for, eh?" said Yukon.
"None of 'em. I'm just hoping they'll all go down together."
Canada sighed and rested his face in his palms.
"I bet Mexico doesn't have to deal with stuff like this, eh," he said to himself.
Mexico breathlessly collapsed onto her sofa and switched on reruns of her favorite telenovela as she blatantly tried to ignore the sounds of rampant destruction downstairs.
When she'd come home, she'd found her house had been reduced to a war zone after Sinaloa and Nuevo León had started butting heads about the cartel problem – an argument which turned into a full-on brawl which saw a number of her children choosing sides and throwing things at each other. Mexico had arrived in time to see Jalisco getting repeatedly beaten over the head with a chair by Chiapas, Aguascalientes riding her racing bike through the house in pursuit of Guanajuato and México state, and Hidalgo restraining Tabasco and Guerrero in his iron grip headlocks. The Baja Californias, Quintana Roo, and Nayarit had been bustled off to a safe corner by Chihuahua so they wouldn't be in harm's way when the older states started to get rough with each other. San Luis Potosí had also managed to sequester himself from the destruction by hiding in a closet, where he was chatting with America's son Michigan about a business deal with General Motors to open a new factory.
Mexico, having just finished a long flight and not having nearly enough energy to deal with the situation, simply decided she wanted to watch María escape a life of poverty, overcome mental breakdowns and amnesia, reunite with her long-lost son, escape the schemes of the evil Soraya, and finally be able to have a happy ending with Luis Fernando.
She'd seen the entire series about thirty times, but there was no harm in watching it again.
"No, Luis Fernando," Mexico sobbed loudly. "Can't you see Soraya is lying about being pregnant with your baby to keep you from María? Why must you do this?! Why?!"
As long as the show was on, Mexico could pretend she didn't hear Coahuila firing up a chainsaw as Querétaro and Zacatecas ran screaming down the hallway. Vaguely, Mexico wondered how America and Canada put up with their own children's shenanigans.
"All right, dudes," America said once he'd gotten them to calm down – for the most part (Massachusetts and Ohio had to repeatedly shove Hershey's chocolate into Pennsylvania's mouth as she kept relapsing). "What have we learned today?"
"Life is one, big frat party dat's only made better by beer?" Wisconsin piped up.
"BEER!" Pennsylvania cheered in the background. "AWESOME BEER!" Ohio silenced her with another piece of chocolate.
"No, Will," said America.
"It is so!" Wisconsin insisted, swaying a bit. "I defy anyone present to refute my assertion dat life's better wid a brewski."
Utah, Idaho, West Virginia, and, oddly enough, Connecticut all raised their hands. On seeing everyone looking at him curiously, Connecticut shrugged and said, "What? He can have his beer, but I prefer gin and tonics or a nice rosé."
"Youse guys are so lame," said Wisconsin, rolling his eyes. "Dad, can I go back to Milwaukee where stuff makes sense?"
"Not until we're all on the same page," said America. "Now, I know you kids can get a little caught up with things, but you can't keep bargaining into world meetings and terrifying my colleagues."
"Aw, I wanted to scare the ever-lovin' criminy out of the terrorists in the U.N.," said Kentucky.
"None of my colleagues are terrorists, Daniel. Some of them just happen to be homes to terrorist cells. I've said that multiple times."
"There are still plenty of Commies, though," said Indiana with a dark look. "But they'll get theirs. Mark my words."
The states nearest Indiana discreetly slid a few feet away from her.
"Henrietta Jones," America said warningly. "What have I said?"
"Play nice with the Commies," Indiana answered with a sigh. "Until you can get one over on them without getting caught."
"Exactly."
Wisconsin yawned and stretched as he entered his home in Milwaukee. It wasn't as big or flashy as some of his siblings' homes, but Wisconsin never felt he needed too much. As long as he had a fridge full of beer and bratwurst, space to hang memorabilia for his sports teams, a comfy bed to sleep in, and a television to watch the game for the instances where he couldn't get tickets, he was happy.
Oh, and space for his adorable micronation kid, of course. Speaking of little Talossa, she was chilling out in front of the television when he came in – the familiar sounds of the "Mystery Science Theater 3000" theme song blaring from the living room.
"What nightmarish film from Hell is bein' riffed today?" Wisconsin said after creeping up behind the sofa and leaning over.
"Hi, Daddy," Talossa exclaimed, reaching up to hug Wisconsin. "I'm watching my favorite episode. 'Manos: The Hands of Fate.'"
"Sweet Jesus, I'll need ano'der beer to be able to get through dis again. You want anyt'ing while I'm in da kitchen?"
"I have some Taco Bell leftovers. Could you please grab them from the fridge for me, Daddy?"
"You bet'cha, Abby."
Wisconsin and his daughter Talossa watched the rest of the movie together and several others until late into the evening. On seeing how late it was, Wisconsin carried his little girl upstairs to her messy, princess-themed bedroom and tucked her in before finally dragging himself off to his own room where he promptly face-planted into his bed in exhaustion.
Author's Note: I'd actually really like to visit Wisconsin. We have some cousins out that way (my great-great-great-grandmother and her siblings all traveled out there when they moved to the U.S. from England in the 1840s after finally freeing themselves from indentured servitude; 3-greats-granny then married my 3-greats-grandad and they got suckered into buying a worthless farm in Virginia that drove them into poverty while the rest of the family stayed fairly well-off in Wisconsin).
F.I.B. – A Wisconsin acronym for "Fucking Illinois Bastards."
Wisconsin is considered America's dairyland. "Cheesehead" is a term people use to refer to Wisconsinites, especially the fans of the Packers football team, and though it was intended as an insult, it's become a bit of a proud title as Wisconsinites are very proud of their cheese. They're also quite fond of bratwurst – probably because of the huge German population (Milwaukee, Wisconsin was once nicknamed the "German Athens").
Easy Cheese is a gross synthetic cheese in a can – think processed cheese byproduct in a whip cream canister that you spray onto stuff.
Accordions are actually quite well-liked in Wisconsin. To be honest, I like accordion music and I don't get why people make fun of it so much (even my dad makes fun of accordions).
Wisconsin was where former members of the Whig party founded the Republican party in order to combat the spread of slavery, push for social and work reforms, and protect and expand the rights of women and minorities – funny, everyone seems to forget about that when calling Republicans racists, sexists, and, well, everything they accuse Republicans of.
Ah, the Wisconsin accent. It's actually quite cute. Substitute "th" with "d" and draw out the vowel sounds.
Props to whoever gets the 'my cars gets forty rods to the hogshead' reference. Incidentally, it takes 320 rods to equal 1 mile, and a hogshead is 63/64 gallons (depending on whether you're using wine or ale measurements), so it's actually a total impossibility for a car to get forty rods to the hogshead.
Indiana has mood-swings because of her weather. She also initially comes across as strict and scary (like all the weird 'Love Jesus or burn in Hell' signs along her roads), but once you get past that she's pretty chill.
Kentucky, Missouri, and Delaware being 'stuck in the middle' is a Civil War joke, because those three states were border states (Maryland was, too, but the only reason she didn't outright join the Confederacy was because the North invaded her before she got the chance – and, believe me, there are some Marylanders who are very bitter about that).
Oh, and I just had to include a small reference to San Luis Potosí making business deals with Michigan (I found out that San Luis Potosí has been trying to open a General Motors factory to reduce dependency on mining).
I like the idea of Mexico re-watching old telenovelas. María la del Barrio is one of the most popular Mexican telenovelas and is, thusly, the one I chose to reference.
Idaho, Utah, and West Virginia are the top three states for lowest alcohol consumption (in that order, in fact; Idaho actually beat Utah on the 'booze-free' meter). Connecticut was just there for laughs.
I was a bit unsure how to end this chapter, so I decided to go with a cute family moment.
The micronation of "Talossa" was founded in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, though it is now more of an online phenomenon. The micronation's national show is Mystery Science Theater 3000 (which is one of my favorite shows, in fact).
In other news: Please check out my new Hetalia story, "World Histories Collection." It is a compendium of historical events through the eyes of the nations, both canon and historically-based OCs.