Chapter 23: All The Songs And Sexual Innuendoes Learned On An 1800s Whaling Ship

"Heaven have mercy on us all - Presbyterians and Pagans alike - for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending." - Herman Melville

Paperwork was the bane of America's existence.

Truly.

She wanted to put every piece of paperwork there was into a nuclear warhead and fire said warhead into space, where it would then "esplode", causing all the people of the world to rejoice as flaming paper rained down from the heavens.

That was how much she hated it.

"Ugh. Someone please kill me." America groaned, letting her forehead fall onto the table with a THUNK.

"C'mon, sis, it's not that bad." Canada said next to her. He shuffled some papers and sighed, signing his name on the fiftieth damn document today. "Besides, the sooner we get this damn crisis report filled out, the sooner we can GTFO back to North America."

"I don't even care who does it. Just somebody END MY LIFE."

Germany scowled, glaring at the twins with his trademark "evil eye." They were currently in his home, trying desperately to sort out all the lawsuits and financial issues that had come with America's last "visit." Namely, her trashing a german playground and then defacing a certain albino with the bodily fluid of a quadruped.

"Will you two just be quiet?" The german growled, irritated. "We've been here for six hours. I wish to go home just as badly as you do, and seeing as this is YOUR FAULT America, I suggest you just suck it up, and fill out the goddamn forms."

America stuck out her tongue and let out a high-pitched whine. "But this is SO BORING!" She groaned, sliding like a slug from her chair onto the floor, where she proceeded to flail her arms about her as though it would make the paperwork disappear. "There has to be SOMETHING we can do to get rid of all this lame lame-ness! Hey, Mattie, you got any stuff on ya?"

Canada gave his sister a wary look and gripped his coat pocket securely.

"Not for you I don't." He said simply. "Remember what happened last time I shared my stash with you?"

America huffed. "It wasn't that bad."

"You ate an entire leather arm chair."

"That's nothing for my tum-de-steel!"

"While I was on it!"

"Both of you shut up!" Germany yelled, slamming his palms on the table and sending papers flying everywhere. "I am not above chaining you two to the walls and force-feeding you british cooking if it means we'll get this fucking paperwork done!" That shut the twins up immediately. "Now, have I made myself clear? Or do I need to go make some phone calls?"

Two furious nods.

"Good." Germany sighed. "Now get to work. I want to be home in time to watch my soaps."

America and Canada stared. Germany blushed.

"What?" He said indignantly. "Karen's about to have her baby! And they don't know if the father is Juan or Michelangelo!"

"Lemme stop you right there." America said, holding up her hand. "That's your business and yours alone. Plus, everyone knows that Juan id TOTALLY the father."

Germany was about to retort when Canada broke in with a series of loud coughs. "Not to get back on track or anything, but how about we get the fuck back on track?"

And then there was a long period of silence.

Soft, glorious, peaceful silence.

Which was broken by America's absentminded humming of a 1800s whaling shanty.

"Hmm Hmmm Hmmmmmm! Hmmmmmmm! Hmm hmm hmm hmmmm!"

A vein twitched in both Canada's and Germany's foreheads. The humming grew in volume, until eventually America was outright singing the words of the song, quite loudly and quite off-key.

"Jimmy way, tay! Blow the man down!"

"AMERICA!" Canada and Germany screamed. "Will you please stop that!"

America pouted and put down her pen, crossing her arms. "What the hell, guys?" She said, irritated. "I'm keeping myself entertained! Isn't that what you wanted?"

Germany growled and rubbed his temple, fighting a growing headache. "Yes, but not at the expense of our sanity!"

America frowned. "Look here, dudes!" She said, gesturing to all the paper. "This here is arduous work we're doing! You dig? And if there's one thing I learned sailing the high seas, it was that the only way to pass the time while doing arduous work is to sing songs about people dying horribly for stupid reasons! Which is exactly what I'm doing!"

Canada and Germany blinked.

They were somehow amazed at the levels of stupid being displayed before them.

"You bitches better sing with me." America suddenly said.

"What?" Canada said tiredly, hanging his head in his hands. All he wanted to do was go home, sit in his chair, watch some hockey, and go the fuck to sleep.

"You bitches better sing with me!" America said again. "It's bad luck for only one sailor to be singing while the rest just sit there like Grateful Dead fans after a concert!"

"Oh really?" Germany said, trying and failing to find his happy place. "And what, pray tell, will befall us if we don't?"

"Your (insert creative slang for penis) will fall off."

"..."

"..."

"... Come again?" Both male nations croaked, staring deadpan at America.

"It'll fall off. Like a raisin. A sad, sad little raisin."

"You're joking." Germany said.

"Ronald Mcdonald as my witness."

"Quit fooling around, Amelia, it's not funny."

"I find nothing funny about someone losing their wand of power."

"You're serious."

"Dead serious."

"That's the curse."

"Yup."

"And you're sure."

"Have you ever seen a grown man throw himself into the ocean because his manfruit up and popped off?"

"... No?"

"Yes I am one hundred percent sure."

Canada and Germany shared a look with each other.

Then with their trousers.

Then with each other's trousers.

No homo.

Ten Minutes Later...

"Jimmy way, tay! Blow the man down!"

"That's the spirit, guys! Put your back into it!"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS PASTA IS GOING ON HERE!?"

Everyone looked up to see a very frightened looking Romano standing in the doorway.

America smiled and waved.

"Hey, Romano!" She called merrily, not noticing her companions' mortified expressions. "Great timing! We were just singing to save our -"

"America, you finish that sentence and I am gluing your face to a toilet seat." Canada hissed. "Was there something you needed, Romano? We're kinda in the middle of something."

The Italian's face was pale, as though he had just witness something unspeakably horrible.

"Potato-bastard was singing..." he whispered fearfully. "Potato-bastard never sings. What sorcery is this!?"

Germany his his flaming face in his hands. "What do you want?" He groaned.

Romano took a couple steps back towards the door. "F-Feliciano got his leg s-stuck in the p-pasta maker again." He stuttered. "H-he sent me t-to come get you s-so you could g-get him o-out of it."

Germany sighed, a long, soul-shattering kind of sigh.

"I'll be right there." He said lowly. "Why is it always his damn legs...?"

Romano nodded, then turned and zipped away like the Flash on acid. Germany got to his feet and smoothed out his hair.

"Gentleman. Lady." He said, trying to regain some amount of composure. "Although our time together was... educational... I must now take my leave. And before you ask, America, that still means you have to do your paperwork."

"Fucking hell."

Canada sighed and put a hand on America's shoulder. "I'll make sure we get it done." He said with a crooked smile. "Hell or high water, I just really want to go home."

Germany's shoulder fell and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Me too, friend, me too." With that, he stalked out of the room, an air of annoyance and terrible acceptance hanging around his head.

Once he was gone, it was just the two North American nations alone in the room.

Canada looked at America.

America looked at Canada.

Engage puppy-eyes of death.

"... Fine." Canada said with a sigh, reaching into his coat pocket. "But I swear to god, if you get the munchies I'm getting the fuck outta dodge." He took out a small baggy and America giggled.

"Yay! You're the best big brother in the whole world!" She said, hugging Canada and smiling widely.

"I'm not sure about that... But if we're gonna do this, we need some paper."

America smirked like satan.

She held up a crisp white form and waved it under Canada's nose.

"I got your paper right here."

Chapter Next: C'mon, Lads, We're Off To Sink The S.S Russia!