“Why didn’t you share your Wurst with me?!” I found myself pouting, flailing my arms in hunger at the tall, broad, blonde man walking next to me. “I’m so bored! I’m so hungry!”
“Shut up!” Germany waved his stick at me threateningly, he’d been carrying it since we crossed the boarder days ago, occasionally scratching his back with it when I refused to scratch for him. “You’ll get to eat tonight when we camp.”
My stomach growled again and I frowned. The gun in my hands might help to convince Germany to camp now…but he had a gun too…and more experience with firearms. Just then I saw it. “Is that a box of tomatoes?” I asked, bounding over to the crate.
Germany threw his arms out dramatically, wielding his stick in a way he knew our enemy, this so-called ‘decedent of the Roman Empire,’ would be terrified of. “Stop! It could be a trap!”
I smiled back at him reassuringly, albeit stupidly “Will you relax? I don’t even like tomatoes!”
Germany face-palmed.
**To Be Continued**
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