I've been working on these funny short stories about all of our wonderful countries. To me, all of our countries have such interesting personalities which differ from each other (and yet bear amazing similarities!) just as our cultures do. I find it entertaining to view current events through the prism of these characters. Thought I'd post it here in case anyone else may appreciate my quirky sense of humor, and since Russia and America are prominent characters.
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It was a slow night at The International Pub and Brewery. The bartender was wiping down the counter while Japan slowly sipped sake with Vietnam, quietly discussing strategies for economically overwhelming China, who had been busily building her country and was nowhere to be seen.
“So, Nippon, what going on with Russia?” Vietnam asked demurely, glancing at the solitary man in the corner booth who was silently waiting for another shot of vodka.
“Every night he sit alone,” Japan observed, eying Vietnam’s new iPhone.
“You wanna buy shrimp?” Vietnam asked hopefully, changing the subject.
The two discussed the shrimp market in hushed tones, Japan politely offering to help Vietnam build her economy, while privately thinking he would like to get her into bed and exploit her resources.
Russia ignored their chatter. His vodka arrived and he took it without even looking up at the bartender, raised it in a silent toast and downed it in one swallow. He placed the shot glass upside down on the table, indicating he was done and would like another.
The bartender knew better than to ask Russia what was wrong or to question whether the large man had had too much to drink. These melancholy moods Russia was in could turn into violent rages if you pried too much. Even so, curiosity got the best of him and he asked, simply, “America, again?”
Russia glared him darkly and growled, “Yes. America. Now, vodka!”
The bartender scurried back to the mirrored cabinets behind the counter and grabbed a bottle of Stolichnaya, pouring another shot into a crystal shot glass.
“Always, America,” Russia muttered so that no one could hear him. Once again, she had tricked him. He had thought they would finally be allies, but just as he had tried to get closer to her again, easing visa restrictions on her citizens and his own, she had turned a cold shoulder and clobbered him with the Magnitsky act.
He was reminded of that silly American cartoon. What was it called? With the sad little boy who kept getting tricked into kicking the silly-shaped football? Charlie Brown, that was it. He chuckled to himself. He knew so much trivia about America. He watched all her movies, listened to all her music, learned all of her slang. And what did she know about him? Nothing. Vodka. Caviar. Fur hats. Nothing at all.
America is not interested in my movies or my songs, Russia thought forlornly. She is only interested in herself. “Какая она с*ка,” he mumbled as the bartender sat down another shot. Abruptly, Russia stood up, raising his glass for all to see. “To America!” He shouted, and quaffed it down.
As if on cue, America burst through the door at that very moment. She waved cheerfully to everyone, except for him, he noticed, and sat down at the bar where she ordered a beer. He chuckled to himself, noticing the beer she ordered was Canadian. “She makes such terrible beer,” he thought, forgetting about all the crates of Budweiser he had drunk in the 90’s.
America took a swig from her Kokanee, retouched her lipstick, and whispered something to the bartender with a wicked grin. It put Russia in an even darker mood. “She joke about me,” he thought, as he rose and shrugged into his coat and his fur hat. One day, that bitch would learn not to joke about him! One day very soon, she would need to grow up.
Russia dropped a handful of rubles on the table and stormed out, not looking back as the door slammed shut.
“What was THAT all about?” America asked no one in particular, startled by the loud noise, “Is Russia having one of his moods again? What is his major problem?”
The bartender rolled his eyes, thinking, “here we go again.”
“Well, Amy, you did hurt his feelings with that Magnitsky Act, “The bartender began.
“Whatever,” Amy cut him off. “He stopped allowing us to adopt Russian kids, you know.”
“Yeah, but that was just retaliation for the - ”
“He’d just better watch his step in Syria,” America muttered darkly.
That comment drew a frown from Vietnam, who was still deeply scared from America’s relatively recent “peace action.” But Japan sipped his sake, pretending not to hear.
The bartender leaned forward and said quietly, “Amy, you don’t have to listen to my advice, but Syria is not a very --”
“You’re right,” Amy interrupted, “I don’t have to listen to your advice.”
The door clanged loudly and Australia came in dressed in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
“G’day, mates!” Australia said cheerfully and waved at the bartender, “Hey, Joe! I’ll have a Murray’s straight up!”
“What, no Foster’s?” Joe laughed.
“Bloody hell, mate,” Oz laughed, “Save that for America!”
“Excuse me?” America said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh don’t be so glum, Amy, I was only kiddin’ on ya,” Oz said, settling comfortably on the stool next to her.
“I’m not glum,” Amy said, taking a swallow from her beer, “My shrink says I’m bipolar.”
“If you take over any more countries, you will be,” Australia quipped.
“No,” Amy waved her hand irritably, not in the mood for jokes. “Half of the time I am a God-fearing, gun-loving, patriotic, church-going redneck listening to country music, and half of the time I am this free-spirited, wild and crazy person smoking weed and listening to reggae and I just wanna take away all of those guns and burn down the churches! Does that sound crazy to you?”
“Erm, well, Amy, yeh, that’s pretty crazy I reckon,” Oz said.
“It’s okay, though,” Amy shrugged nonchalantly, “My shrink gives me pills.”
