“Eeeeek!” I squealed out one day. Italy, on instinct, threw out his white flag and hopped up onto a chair. I don’t think he knew my ‘it’s a mouse’ eeek from my ‘its an enemy’ eeek.
“What is it now?” Germany asked, already miffed. He’d grown accustomed to how annoying I was, but he still had his days.
I strode into the room, carrying an old, dusty cardboard box full of DVDs and photographs, which I dropped unceremoniously on the floor like it had Herpes. And I wouldn’t have been surprised if it did. “What the hell is all this?”
Germany’s face dropped. “Where did you find those?”
“I was cleaning your room, as a favor, honestly it’s a pig sty in there, and I just happened to come across them when I was dusting your closet!”
Italy crawled over to the box and began shifting through the contents curiously, his brother, Romano (South Italy), who was visiting, cast a hard glare at Germany. “I always knew there was something shifty about you, you potato-sucker!” Romano yelled viciously.
Little Italy smiled up at his brother, holding a DVD. “Romano, we don’t even know what they are yet! Don’t jump to conclusions!” I already knew.
So there we sat; watching old, cheap, home-made, sex DVDs from Germany’s war days. Romano threw a fit, but Italy persistently backed Germany up. “Well, I don’t see what’s so wrong with two cold German soldiers wanting to keep warm. I mean, sharing body heat…is good right?”
“You don’t have to be nude, Italy.” I said, “Or hump, for that matter.”
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