o18

Somebody should really tell this desert island about Hawaii. Its warm there, just not here. The fire cracked slowly. The flames were beginning to die down to simmering coal and the smoke was keeping the insects away, at least.

Next to me, Italy was sprawled out on the sand, snoring. A crab he’d caught earlier was still clamped onto his hair. On my other side was Japan, laying flat as a board, his jacket covering his torso. At some point in the night my chattering teeth had woken Germany and now I was warm and cozy against his chest.

But then Japan and Germany woke up so suddenly that they scared me. Japan pulled his sword out, and Germany got his gun, much to my dismay. “The hell are you two doing?” I asked, already getting cold again.

“China! I choose you!” Lord, please let that be Latvia, or Canada, or Greece, or someone- anyone other than noisy America. Alas, my prayers went unanswered. By the time I looked up China was on top of Japan and they were going at it. What I don’t get is how Japan, who had a sword, lost to China, who had a freaking Wok.

And then Germany got taken out, and in midst of the chaos Italy was crying, waving that damn, home-made capitulation flag of his, and I’m pretty sure I felt someone grab my ass while I stood and watched the chaos unfold. Probably America.

And then, lord, the old fart (refer to drabble oo1) just had to pop up and add to the anarchy. I don’t know how but he rose from the freaking sea, with freaking women hanging off his freaking rock hard muscles. And somehow there was a spotlight on him coming from freaking no where in the night sky. And when he was gone Italy was the only one acting like seeing the greatest, albeit dead, Empire of all time raising from the sea to sing some totally random lyrics, with three women hot enough to make Taylor Swift go lesbo, was a perfectly common phenomenon.

But hey, I don’t keep track of what that kid eats before he goes to bed at night…