There they were at either Tim Horton’s or Dunkin’ Donuts, talking about North Korea.
“He’s being so temperamental lately, you know?” America complained between munches. “He’s firing rockets, telling me to stop hanging out with South Korea, complaining to the U.N., calling me a terrorist…” At that, Canada muttered something under her breath that America mistook for a cough. “He’s kinda paranoid.”
“America,” she began gently, “during the 60s you would stay up all night sitting on your roof with a shotgun and a six-pack of root beer, playing Janet Greene and Tony Dolan records on repeat while you ‘surveyed’ and occasionally shot at the air after nervously mumbling something about ‘the Reds.’”
“Canada, if I hadn’t done that the Commies would’a won.”
She folded her arms. “If it helps you sleep at night…”
“And you know what else? I think North Korea’s been sending me hatemail.”
“Hatemail?” Asked Canada, sounding surprisingly surprised.
“Yeah. I’ve been getting a lot of anonymous emails lately from ‘firstname.lastname@example.org.’ I didn’t even know people still used AOL. But these emails… they’re really creepy. They’re just, like, one line of giant text that say things like, ‘YOUR TIME IS NEAR’ or ‘THE PRICE OF YOUR SINS WEIGHS HEAVY.’ It’s gotta be him.”
“Maybe you could talk to China about this, eh?”
“He’s hard to talk to. I can’t help but feel like he’s judging me whenever he stares at me with those cold, beady eyes.”
“That’s because he is judging you, America.”
America pounded the table with his fist, a sudden realization coming to him. “He’s probably in on this hatemail thing, too. He’s probably the mastermind behind it all. I can see it now–him sitting there at his computer with a smug grin on his face, North Korea behind him with a smirk. ‘That was an excellent email, China. You’re the best, China. I wish I could be you, but I’m not. I’m just a loser.’” America altered his voice to sound a tad more pretentious for the China impersonation. ‘Whatever, nerd. Be useful and fetch the firecrackers. We’re going to celebrate by setting fire to piles and piles of American dollar bills.’”
Canada was content letting America believe that reality.
On the other side of the world in what was probably a Chinese McDonalds, they were talking about America.
“He’s infuriating. Meddlesome. If he weren’t sitting on our border, I could patch things up with South. Korea would be unified within… within three years.” China said nothing, only nodded gently–half to agree and half to humor the Korean. “He’s a bully,” whined North Korea, sounding more pitiful than before. “Big, stupid, imperialist bulldog… Don’t even get me started on his latest terrorist plot against me!”
But he was already started.