Disclaimer: I think by now everyone is well aware of the fact that I don't own Hetalia or Avenue Q. I mean, would I be here if I did? Actually...I probably would be on here whenever I found the time. Hm, that says something about me, and I'm not sure if it's good...Oh well. Anyway, as requested, here is My Girlfriend Who Lives in Canada.
Sweating, Roderich twisted his cravat nervously. He'd gone to Switzerland in order to attend his cousin Vash's wedding to his younger adoptive sister Erica, (which was half-sweet and half-creepy now that he really thought about it) and he was currently staring down the barrel of his aforementioned cousin's shotgun for his troubles. Why? Because he hadn't brought a date and Vash would sooner turn the gun on himself and blow himself a second asshole with it before he let good money go to waste because his "weeping vagina of a cousin lost his girlfriend to some alcoholic albino retard and was probably deep in the closet anyway so why didn't he just bring a man and be done with it?"
Roderich was tempted to tell him that he shouldn't have been so presumptuous and paid for one hundred meals for the reception, seeing as how he was an irascible, trigger-happy douchebag and would be lucky if even five of his family members showed up, but a nudge from the gun made him hold his tongue. What to do, what to do...I still haven't quite come to grips with my admittedly confusing sexuality, but Vash is the last person whom I would tell that to. Gay, straight, or other, I still need an excuse as to why I opted to not bring anyone with me...Ah, I've got it! I'll make it up as I go along..in song. Music truly does solve all of my woes! Besides that haemorrhoid one, but the doctor said that would clear up soon...
Clearing his throat, Roderich carefully pushed the shotgun away from his face. "I can assure you that I do indeed have a girlfriend. Sheis from...Canada. Yes, Canada. Since she lives so far away, I think it is obvious why she could not be in attendance." Straightening his spectacles, he walked towards the center of the sitting room and crossed his arms.
"I shall now express my contempt for your ridiculous assumption towards my sexuality in song." He sniffed haughtily. "Seeing as how you're too unrefined to actually own any musical instruments, seeing as how you prefer to squander whatever money that you don't hoard under your mattress on firearms, I will have to sing."
Vash rolled his eyes and flung himself on the couch. "Oh yeah, because show tunes just ooze heterosexuality. Face it Roderich, you're completely flaming. I'm surprised that you haven't set off the sprinkler systems yet," he said.
Roderich stuck his nose in the air. "Oh quit your blithering and let me get on with this, will you?" He demanded.
"Whatever," Vash yawned. "Hurry it up, will you piano-humper? The rehearsal dinner is in an hour."
Glaring at his cousin, Roderich commenced with his elaborate lie.
"Ohhhh..."
"I wish you could meet my girlfriend, my girlfriend who lives in Canada."
"She couldn't be sweeter"
"I wish you could meet her,"
"My girlfriend who lives in Canada!"
Vash flinched. "Er, you really ought to stick to piano Roderich. Singing is really not you're forte. I mean really. You sound like...I'm not even sure. Like a cat being simultaneously raped with a jalapeno pepper and stuck in a blender, maybe."
Ignoring him, Roderich continued.
"Her name is Alberta,"
"She lives in Vancouver."
"She cooks like my mother,"
"And sucks like a Hoover."
"Seriously?" Vash demanded. "The last thing anyone wants to think about is you getting sucked off by anyone, male or female. An actual vacuum cleaner would rip your dick off by the way, so that's really not the best comparison if you think about it. Although, it is pretty hard to imagine you getting blown by anything, since you seem like the kind of guy to hate all of the messier aspects of sex. Hm, in that case, the vacuum probably isn't a bad idea. Easy spillage cleanup, anyway." He scratched his head. "Speaking of which, do you even produce semen? I always sort of thought that you were a robot programmed only to play classical music and act like an uptight wanna-be aristocrat."
Roderich simply continued his off-key singing rather than bother to answer any of his cousin's questions. He was so into it that he didn't even feel embarrassed about the fact that he was spouting some of the most awkward lyrics in history.
"I text her every single day"
"Just to make sure that everything's okay."
"It's a pity she lives so far away, in Canada!"
"Last week she was here, but she had the flu."
"Too bad,"
"'Cause I wanted to introduce her to you."
"It's so sad."
"There wasn't a thing that she could do"
"But stay in bed with her legs up over her head!"
"Hey, Roderich, would you like a napkin?" Vash asked.
Roderich raised his eyebrows. "And why exactly would I need one?"
"Oh, I just figured that you could use something to wipe up the bullshit currently leaking out of your mouth," Vash said. "I mean, seriously? Here with the flu a week ago? You just got here today! At least get your story straight."
He looked at Roderich seriously. "Look, no one cares if you're gay," Vash said. "In fact, no one would be surprised at all, because, hey, let's face it; cravats aren't exactly manly, at least not in this day and age." He sighed, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "And in bed with her legs over her head? You expect me to believe that? You and I both know that it would be you lying back with your legs pretzeled around your partner's neck while they rode you like a pony. The day you top anyone in bed is the day I burn a Euro. Which would be never. Because I love money. I'd marry it, if I could. Uhm...please don't tell Erica that," he trailed off.
"Allow me to finish my song and I won't breathe a word about your desire to use your anus as a coin slot to your wife-to-be," Roderich promised, smirking.
Vash flushed angrily. "That is not what I-He was cut off by Roderich once again raping his ears with his shitty excuse for singing.
"I wish you could meet my girlfriend,"
"But you can't because she is in Canada."
"I love her, I miss her, I can't wait to kiss her,"
"So soon I'll be off to Alberta!"
"I mean Vancouver!"
"Shit! Her name is Alberta, she lives in Vancou-"
"Oh God," Vash muttered. "This started off semi-entertaining, but now this is just pathetic. Vancouver and Alberta are both Canadian providences, jackwad! If you're going to make up a woman, make sure that her fake name isn't the same as one of the places in the country she comes from. Fucktard."
Desperate to keep up the ruse, Roderich hurriedly spat out the final verse, hoping that he could somehow convince Vash.
"She's my girlfriend!"
"My wonderful girlfriend!"
"Yes I have a girlfriend, who lives in Canada!"
"And I can't wait to eat her pussy again!"
He spat out the last line frantically, accidentally spitting all over Vash as well when he screamed the word "pussy". Horrified, he watched in numb terror as Vash slowly wiped the saliva off of his face with his sleeve.
"Roderich," he said quietly. "Your singing talent is nonexistent. Your voice...It is complete and utter shit. Fuck Dante's entire concept of the ninth level of hell being chewed on by Satan's three faces. I'd rather be ground to powder in the mouth of a devil for the rest of eternity than ever endure listening to you sing again. That would be hell. Stick to instrumentals. Please. Seriously, I think my ears are bleeding from when you ruptured them sometime during the second verse of this poor excuse for a song. And another thing: As I said earlier, no one gives two shits whether you're gay, straight, bisexual, or even if you're into bestiality, although we'd all prefer that you keep the latter to yourself if you are. Truthfully, the entire family has always assumed that you're either chaste or solely attracted to musical instruments. You could massage your prostate with a clarinet while masturbating into the mouth of a trombone for all I care. Whether or not you ever come to grips with your sexuality is not my problem. So that we don't ever have a repeat of this clusterfuck, next time there's a wedding, just call and say that you won't be bringing a date so that I can make sure not to spend money on someone who isn't showing up."
Rolling his shoulders, he stood up, facing Roderich, who stared at him in shock. The moment was ruined by Vash cocking his gun and firing several rounds at him, one of which grazed his hair, shooting off the odd little curl that stood up from his otherwise neat locks.
"What was that for?" Roderich demanded in a high-pitched voice as he gingerly felt the top of his head.
"That," Vash declared, "was for subjecting me to the torture that is your voice. Seriously, you fucking suck." He casually fired three more shots, all of which he deliberately aimed just inches away from Roderich's body.
"Those were for spitting all over me, insinuating that I have a sexual attraction to money and for making me waste my money on your non-existent beard, respectively," he said, casually walking out of the room as Roderich sank to the floor in a dead faint
"Pussy," Vash muttered.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, a young woman with violet eyes behind round-framed glasses and blonde hair pulled into two low ponytails sighed despondently as she sat in the Vancouver airport. "Roderich was supposed to have picked me up three hours ago," she said to the small polar bear cub lying in her lap. "I mean sure, he's probably gay and using me as a cover-up, but he was otherwise quite nice, if a little up his own ass. And besides, I've never been to Switzerland before." She twirled a loose lock of hair. "Do you think he forgot?"
The cub stared at her confusedly. "Who're you?" It said.
The girl hung her head. "Fuck my life."