“Soviet Ukraine!” Russia declared proudly. “That’s what we’ll call you. Isn’t it a beautiful name?”
“You just added ‘Soviet’ to the beginning of my name.”
“And that is a beautiful thing.” Russia put her hands on Ukraine’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. Like most people who found themselves that close to Russia, he felt uncomfortable—and somewhat titillated. “The communists fought hard in your country, Ukraine. From this day forward, we fight together as comrades!”
“Yes, I am extremely proud of—Russia?” He couldn’t help but notice that Russia’s eyes had widened and she seemed fixed on something behind him.
She spun him around and was suddenly face to face with himself. A second Ukraine. Same features, same hair, same outfit.
They stared at the copy. Or perhaps, the real thing? Who really knew which was real and which wasn’t? Maybe they were both real. Were the concepts of “real” and “fake” even applicable?
Soviet Ukraine finally asked,”Excuse me, but, who are you?”
The other Ukraine kind of shrugged. “It seems like I’m the Ukrainian People’s Republic. In other words, the part of Ukraine that didn’t sell his soul to the Bolsheviks.”
Russia brought a hand to her lips. “Oooh, I’ve seen this before.”
When Russia stepped into America’s home she gasped and nearly dropped a bottle of ale. She was expecting a young man blessed with youthful charm. Instead, she saw a rough-looking guy with a scruffy stubble of a beard, wearing patchy clothes and a straw hat. He had America’s face, no doubt, but that was the only thing Russia found familiar.
He also had a rifle pointed right at her. She stood in the doorway and stared at him in disbelief. Had America really changed so much since their last meeting?
Then America laughed nervously and lowered his gun. “Shit. Thought you was someone else.”
Russia’s heart stopped. Even his voice–inflection, tone, pitch–was different; usually spunky, it was now grittier and rolled off his tongue in more of a drawl.
“Oh? Have you been making enemies lately?” She asked, intrigued smiling tugging the corner of her mouth.
“Uhh, yeah. Somethin’ like that.” His eyes caught the ale and he asked, “You aint drinkin’ that whole bottle by yourself, are ya?”
“I have been known to,” she said. Seeing that he’d set the weapon against the table and relaxed a little, she walked over and sat across from him. “You look… good. I know very well that everyone changes with time, I just… wasn’t expecting you to change so much… It’s nice to see you, all the same.” She poured them both drinks. “What is it that you wanted to talk about, then?”
The other blinked. “Uh, wha–talk about? Uh… ye–right, right.”
“Yeah, uh… Well, actually, I wasn’t bein’ truthful with ya. I called ya here because I just… wanted to see you. Again. ‘Cause you’re a… a nice lady.”
Russia eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“No, no, I–”
“Because you’d have to be a little ill to think you could lie to me twice and get away with it.”
The powerful empire saw the sweat on America’s brow as he stared at her. He said nothing, just spit out chewing tobacco on his own floor before reaching for his glass and gulping down the ale to the last drop. “H-Has anyone ever told you that you got some beautiful eyes?”
A noise coming from the adjacent room, like glass shattering, made them both jump. Instinctively, America grabbed his rifle and aimed it at the door–which swung open with a startling snap.
It was…. America?
“You piece of shit!” The real United States growled, pleasantly familiar face already red. “You lock me out of my own damn house so you can sneak an alliance in with my friend?”
“Watch yourself, Yankee!”
“Oh, yeah? You gonna shoot me?” He motioned below the belt. “Right here, bitch.”
“Imma–Imma do it!”
Of course, he didn’t.
The real United States grabbed a nearby broom and knocked the impostor’s rifle off target before violently, and repeatedly, smacking him with the cleaning instrument, all while shouting variations of “Get out” with profanity mixed in.
That successfully drove the impostor from the house. Standing in the doorway, the United States shouted down the road. “If I see your Confederate ass around here again I will put a bullet in it!”
After slamming the door shut, he finally he turned to Russia.
“So,” he said, “Wanna help me kill that guy?”
This was silly but I wrote it anyway.
Russia was supportive of the Union during the Civil War because they saw the Union (a.k.a. United States) as a great counter against the power of the British Empire. Read more about it here.