Paraguay: Hey! This is Paraguay, with the P, as in 'psychology'…

Uruguay: And this is Uruguay, without the P, as in Tutankhamen! Just popped by to say, the characters we speak like are Thomson and Thompson from Hergé's comic books Tintin! But we like to think we're a cut above those two bumbling idiots. :)

Paraguay: To be precise: we think like cut bumbling idiots!

Uruguay: Wait, what?

And also, did anyone notice in the last chapter that when Cuba took Mexico's spoon away, the latter had already thrown it at El Salvador? WHOA PLOT HOLE! :D For simplicity's sake, let's just say he kept a spare… Bolivia throwing it back is not an option because then Juanito would have a spoon-shaped hole in his head.

Chile: Can he get one anyways for hurting my sister?

Cuba: What is this, the Spoon War? If that stupid piece of silverware leaves your hand I'll… I'll… Spain, can I shoot him?

Peru: You could always trap him deep in a mine in the Atacama Desert for two months. With 32 other hairy men and their ugly manly B.O. and whatnot.

Ecuador: You do realize you'll grow up into a man too, don't you.

Spain: [ignoring Cuba] Yamai, you were down there? OAO

Chile: [ignoring Spain] Are you still hung up over that? It's not my fault you spent all that time alone at my place! I warned you! I told you to go home! Why were you still there when I got back?

Peru: Well, that—I—um, that is… guh… I—I mean—! I-I—Curses! I was only… u-um… I-it was too much trouble packing up! A-and there were n-no f-fl-flights to C-Cusco… [blushes]

Chile: [raises eyebrow] Right.

Mexico: Ahahaha! Huayna wuvs his big bwother!

Peru: . . . . . .

Aaaaand, looks like Mexico's about to end up with that hole in his head after all. Just to clear things up: no, Chile was not in the mine. He went to help get them out after the collapse.

Chile: [tries to hug Peru] It's okay… 'Big bwother' understands.

Peru: Shut up! Don't touch me, you damn 1984 antagonist!

Cookies to those who got that last line. See how IB corrupts my brain? x.x

England slowly raised his head out of the bush. All was silent. He gestured to the other three, who crept through the undergrowth to meet him. "All right," he whispered. "I think I've figured out how to get out of here. Unfortunately, the gunshots seem to be coming from the same direction we're supposed to be heading in. Here's what we'll do. Sis, we'll use your umbrella as a shield. Austria will be beside you so he can use the gun if he needs to. Prussia, you cover the rear and let us know if you see anything suspicious. Got it?" The others nodded. "Good. Let's go!"

They hadn't gone more than three feet when the gunshot sounded again, this time a lot closer than before. "C-courage," England stammered as Prussia flinched. "Just think, a few moments of suspense and then we'll be out of the woods… literally and figuratively."

Another gunshot sounded—from the other direction.

The group froze. "Well," said Austria, "this is an interesting development…"

Príncipe peered into the broom closet. There was all sorts of weird stuff in here, from cleaning supplies to stuffed owls with half the feathers fallen out. He and São Tomé had found this place when Portugal turned them loose in the corridor while she went off to fetch Brazil. It was never a good sign when she left them behind. That usually meant some sort of obscene violence was about to occur. But they didn't mind; it would be fun watching their brother stumbling back with various scrapes and bruises all over the place.

It was no wonder Brazil disliked them; according to him, the twins were just as sadistic as that Inca brat he lived beside. Príncipe wished he lived closer to South America, so he and Lino and that Inca kid could hang out together and torment Brazil to no end.

He gasped as he spotted something glinting in the dim light. Eyes sparkling with glee, he pointed it out to his twin.

"Lino, olhar!"

São Tomé's mouth fell open when he saw what Príncipe was pointing at. The two exchanged looks. Slowly, in an eerily synchronized fashion, they smiled.

Torture time.

"This is ridiculous," England grumbled as he, Wales, Austria and Prussia trudged out of the forest. In each hand the Brit held an ear—their respective owners were stumbling after him, wincing. "Whose damn kids are these anyway?"

"Lemme go!" North Sudan cried, lashing out at England.

"Yeah! It's none of your business!" South Sudan added. England sighed and tugged on their ears, reducing their yells to pained squealing.

"At least we caught them before anyone got hurt," said Wales optimistically. "I mean, two kids shooting at each other in the woods is pretty dangerous."

"Hmm," said Prussia, an evil glint flashing in his eye, "a few minutes with the awesome me will fix their attitudes… Kesesesesese…"

The Sudanese brothers immediately shut up.

"See?"

"We'll let Germany take care of them, I guess," said England. "He is in charge, after all."

"Wait, didn't you also want to be in charge?" Wales pointed out.

England stopped. "Um… well…"

North Sudan took this opportunity to kick him in the shin. South Sudan punched him in the gut.

"If this is what I have to deal with… not anymore…"

...

"Oh, I'll take care of them, all right," said Germany darkly. He cracked his knuckles. North and South Sudan cowered behind England as he approached. "It's Room 101 for you two."

"What the heck!" Switzerland shrieked. "That's my room! And stop making random 1984 references!"

England and Germany exchanged looks. "What's with him?" England whispered as they left him to eat his lunch in peace.

Germany shrugged. "Gun withdrawal symptoms, I suppose."

"Either that," said Prussia, "or he's PMSing."

The chaos in the house only increased when night fell. Wy, suddenly realizing she hadn't seen Seborga in hours, began looking for him. She joined forces with Finland, who'd been aware of Sweden's AWOL-ness for quite some time now. After a long bout of lecturing and spanking, North and South Sudan finally agreed to stop fighting—for the time being. The guns were confiscated and turned over to Switzerland, who locked his own beloved rifle in its case after getting it back from Austria.

Canada and Bahrain were brushing their teeth at double-speed after guzzling a bunch of maple syrup/Nutella sandwiches for dinner too. America decided to pull an all-nighter playing video games. Unfortunately for Austria, who was trying to sleep.

"America, can you please stop imitating laser shooting noises and put on some headphones. Please!" the incensed Austrian snapped as he folded his pillow over his head in an attempt to block the noise. It didn't work; that annoying digital music was still worming its way into his head. And now it was stuck in there, damn it…

"Sure thing, Austria!" said America as his fingers fluttered over the keys. "Just as soon as I complete this level—YEAH! Wow, that was epic! Ooh, I unlocked a secret level!" And he continued playing without even looking away from the screen.

Austria sighed.

"Hey," he said, knocking on Germany's door. "This system of yours is ridiculous." There was no response. "Ludwig?"

The door opened. A weary face poked out. "Roderich? What are you doing here?" Germany rubbed his eyes. "Gott, that Poland… you saw him, right?"

"The flat-chested one in negligee?" Austria recalled the blond prancing around in a skimpy black babydoll. "Yes, I believe I did." From downstairs came the sound of America whooping. "Ludwig, I demand you move me to another room! That damn America won't stop playing his stupid video games and it's driving me up the wall!"

Germany raised an eyebrow. "You don't say. So that's why you came upstairs to see me." (A/N: Ahahahaha… "up the wall"… upstairs… okay I'm gonna shut up now.) Germany sighed. "Fine, since it's come down to this, I'll trade with you for now. I'm used to Italy's antics anyway so it shouldn't bother me as much."

Austria winced at the thought of having to put up with Poland's cross-dressing, but at least he would finally have some peace and quiet. "It's a deal," he said.

"Why are you sleeping so early anyways?" said Germany, glancing at the clock. "It's only 9:30."

Austria bristled. "W-well, excuse me! A man needs his sleep in order to stay handsome, you know!"

Meanwhile, some of the nations who were still staying up had gathered in the lounge and were busy telling each other scary stories.

"…And then," said Prussia, "lightning flashed, and he saw this huge crowd of white things surrounding him. 'Oh no!' he thought. 'There are ghosts in this building! That's not awesome at all! I've got to get out of here!' So he started to run, but he bumped into one of them, and he fell backwards. And the ghost turned to him and said, 'Baa!'"

Silence fell. Someone coughed. Finally, England said, "Um, thank you, Prussia. Anyone else wanna tell one?"

"I know a few lame physics jokes, if anyone wants to hear," France offered. Everyone groaned, but he told them anyway. "What's a nuclear physicist's favorite lunch? Fission chips!"

Switzerland facepalmed.

"A cop pulled Heisenberg over and asked him if he knew how fast he was going. Heisenberg said, 'No, but I know where I am.'"

(A/N: Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle states that you can't know both the position and speed of a particle with certainty—only one of them at a time.)

"Two atoms walk into each other. 'Oh no, I lost an electron!' says one. 'Are you sure?' says the other. The first replies, 'I'm positive!'"

"Somebody stop him!" cried Seychelles.

"Hey Einstein, does Paris stop by this train?"

(A/N: I did NOT get this one at all when the guy at the UBC Physics Olympics told it.)

Italy handed Romano the duct tape. A minute later, with the problem taken care of, the group resumed its story marathon.

"I'll tell one," said Sealand. "Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Peter—I mean Pete! Yes, Pete! Anyway, Pete was always ridiculed by his colleagues, because he was so small, so they didn't consider him to be one of them—"

"Peter, shut up," England snapped.

"I hate you, dumbo Arthur!"

"Shh!" Iceland hissed. "Did you hear that?"

Everyone froze.

"Hear what?" said Norway.

"The noise!" said Iceland, and this time a few others heard it.

"Sounds like it's coming from outside," Hungary commented. "Let's go see what it is!"

England blanched. After today's incident in the woods he really wasn't up to another adventure.

They crept out into the courtyard, glancing around warily. Suddenly there was a loud rustle. "Wh-who's there?" England demanded, whirling in the direction of the noise.

The bushes shook as a tall figure suddenly burst out from it. Seychelles screamed and grabbed the nearest person she could find, who unfortunately turned out to be France. The figure froze for a moment, then quickly ran off.

Cuba blinked. "That person seemed familiar somehow…"

That was when a splot of paint came out of nowhere and hit Switzerland between the legs.

"Oh my," said Paraguay. "There's wet stuff dripping down your thighs. Is it that time of month?"

"Ahahaha!" Prussia crowed. "I told you he was PMSing! Hahahaha—"

His mouth was still open when another paint-grenade smashed into his face.

"Who's doing that?" said Iceland, squinting into the darkness, as Prussia coughed and sputtered. He gasped and pointed at a lamp a short distance from them. "There!"

Two children stepped into the light, each wielding an evil grin and a shiny black weapon.

"Paintball guns," Romano muttered. "Oh hell."

Apologies to dogsrule and Yuri n' Chuka for the reference to paintball… and the duct tape, I guess. It was funny so I decided to use the idea.

North and South Sudan: They hate each other's guts, mostly because they're forced to stay together as one country. South is a black African (well, I'm sorry but that's the term my geography teacher used) while North is Arabic. Their lifestyles conflict and their people are mingling, which is causing the problem. We can only hope there won't be a larger-scale Darfur as a result of this…

São Tomé and Príncipe (Lino and Paulo Silva Fernandez): Sadistic little twerps, aren't they? They enjoy bullying Brazil, mostly because they're jealous that he's Portugal's favorite.

…Oh, Switzerland. XD