Belgium sighed. She could really use some company. "They had to
leave me with all the chores, didn't they..." She complained,
looking at a shelf covered in dust.
Meanwhile Romano just simply stared at the wall zoned out. What
if I never see him again? What if something bad happened to him?
What if- Dammit Romano. Stop thinking of that jerk already! He
probably pretends to like you just because he feels bad for you!
But what if... What if he doesn't?
Belgium began to dust the house, she gave in, she knew that someone
had to do it. She smelt the oie and dropped everything, rushing
towards the oven. She opened it and gently put the pie on the
dusted shelf, the scent of the pie drifting out the window.
Italy looked at Romano. "We can go visit Belgium. I heard that her
brothers aren't at home today and I don't want her to be alone. She
won't have fun. Or pasta." He told Romano.
Luka was out picking some flowers just outside her house to make a
flower crown for fun. "These are wonderful!" she said cheerfully to
herself. Then she thought "I wonder what the other countries are
doing..."
Belgium had finally finished cleaning, but there were small crumbs
that had fallen off the pie were burning in the oven. "Oh,
great...." She murmured, her smoke alarm going off, she headed into
her kitchen, only to be clouded in black smoke.
Luka looked at the little black smoke. "Oh no, I have to help
before it gets worse" she said running towards the smoke. Where was
she running? Luka didn't care
The smoke trailed out her windows. "How can this day get any
worse..." Belgium got out her fire extinguisher. "I knew this would
come in handy..." She couldn't hold it up. It was too heavy.
"Dang... It..."
The Italian sighed. Why? He probably likes Feliciano. I mean who
wouldn't? He's nice, kind, sweet, he can cook, make art like a
professional. Then here's me. The idiotic, useless, stupido who
can't do any of those things. No wonder why he's never called
Ita-
Romano's thoughts were cut off when he crashed into someone.
''Watch where you're going, bastardo!'' he shouted at the
person.
(Italy decides who it was.)