United States of Hetalia
Me: This was a request of Nonameswereavailable. A parody of Midsummer Nights Dream with Hetalia characters. (Pulls out a stringed-instrument-thingy) Nara-Brand Crack-style.
England: You're about to do so many things that would get you slapped by Shakespeare. By the way, that's a nice harp.
England: No, honestly that's-
Me: (Bursts out laughing)
England: (Deadpan) Oh you were just dying to say that, weren't you? Did you pull it out just to say that pun?
Me: Well, DUH.
England: Bri does not own Hetalia, Japan does. She doesn't own Midsummer Nights Dream either because I do.
"Can you believe we're getting married, Artie? I mean, can you just believe it?" the American rambled.
"Of course I can by now! You've been ranting on about it for days!" his British fiance replied.
Alfred F. Jones was the Mayor of New York City, and was about to get married to Arthur Kirkland. Alfred's secretary/friend Toris was quietly walking behind him as the two men talked.
"We'll have food and awesome entertainment and fun people!"
"That's nice, luv..." Arthur said as he rolled his eyes.
The brown-haired man stiffened a bit. "Y-Yes, sir?"
"Dude, take it easy. I asked you to organize my wedding as a friend, not your boss. Now, did you book the entertainment?"
"Yes. Some friends of mine are in an acting troupe and they said they're willing to do it for free."
"Sweet! Are they good?" Alfred looked at Toris with excited and hopeful eyes.
"U-Uh..." Toris tried not to remember the time Ivan ran away in the middle of Romeo and Juliet because Natalia got too into it. Or the time Hamlet was groping everyone on stage. Or the time Raivis broke down crying in the middle of Twelfth Night. And especially not the time they got kicked out of Broadway. But Ivan had a pipe. And the strength to kick a certain wedding planner's ass. "O-Of course they are... Um, excuse me for a moment..." Toris hurried out of Central Park as fast as possible.
Toris left about two seconds before Julius, Lovino, Antonio, and Ludwig arrived to the small pavilion in Central Park.
"Aw~! Look how happy he looks!" Julius cooed.
"Please! Nonno! Don't do that s_ in public!" the younger Italian man yelled.
"Oh! 'Sup guys?" America asked.
"Look." Middle-Aged man put an arm around a blushing Lovino. "Here's my grandson, Lovino. Isn't he cuuuute~?"
"Very." Antonio agreed.
He gestured to the German on his left. "Now here's Ludwig. Tall, strong, and allowed to marry my little Lovi." Then he gestured to the Spaniard on his right. "Here's Antonio. Sexy, Spanish, and he's already interchanged tokens of love with Lovi, if you know what I mean." The Italian wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.
"Too much information, dude..."
"WE DID NOT!" But Lovino was as red as a tomato.
"Anyways, Lovi's supposed to marry Ludwig. But you can obviously see that he prefers Antonio-"
"I DO NOT!"
"Oh, so you'll marry Ludwig then?"
"DAMMIT, NONNO, WHAT THE HELL? THERE'S NO WAY I'M MARRYING THAT POTATO-BASTARD!"
"But why not~?"
Lovino walked up to Ludwig and started pointing out his many 'flaws'. "He's too muscle-y, he's stupid, he'll make me do all the damn housework, and... I DON'T WANT TO MARRY HIM, GODDAMMIT!"
His grandfather leaned down and whispered into his ear. "Listen, I know you don't like the guy, but his grandfather, Abelard , is still mad at me for leaving him at the altar 'bout 25 years ago."
"Well you were kind of a dick."everyone there said.
Julius shrugged in a way that said 'I know.'
"But why the hell do I have to marry the potato-bastard because of your screw-up!"
"Cause if not, his grandfather will kick my ass~."
"You marry him then!"
"No thanks. There's this thing called pedophilia-"
"Make Feliciano marry him!"
"But you're the oldest child. So it has to be you."
"I still refuse to marry him, dammit!"
Julius sighed and looked at Alfred. "I don't have a choice then. Al, any way to ban tomatoes from New York City?"
Lovino's eyes widened. "You wouldn't..."
"Sadly, I would... Come on." The elder Italian, American, Brit, and German walked away.
Antonio frowned at the miserable look on his little tomato's face. "Lovi? What's wrong?"
"I don't want to marry him! I would prefer a stupid cheery bastard like you!"
"Thanks... I think..."
"By the way," Lovino looked out to a bush behind him, "you can come out now, Feliciano."
Antonio raised his eyebrows as he watched a smaller Italian emerge from the bushes.
"But Fratello! I like Ludwig! How come you get to marry him?"
"You can keep him! It's stupid Nonno's fault!" Romano crossed his arms. "I won't eat, sleep, or cuss until I get to be with Antonio!"
Antonio smiled and blushed. "R-Really, Lovi?"
Lovino's face turned red as a tomato. "Hell no! I need to do those things to live long enough to be with you, dammit!"
"Ve~. When will I get to have my love?"
Meanwhile with the 'Fabulous Actor Troupe'
"Everyone is here, da?"
"Let's take roll just in case, non?"
Ivan pulled out a sheet of paper with the names of his troupe.
"B-But sir, what will we perform?" Eduard asked.
Ivan pulled out a couple of scripts. "I took these when we got kicked out of Heracles' house. It's called 'Pyramus and Thisbe.'"
"How can you even pronounce that?" Matthew sighed.
"I will announce your roles. Francis, you get to be Pyramus."
The Frenchman tilted his head to the side. "Do I get to be a lover?"
Francis grinned in a way that made Raivis hide behind Eduard. "Ohonhonhon~! I will do my best. I will move the audience to tears~!"
"Yes, brother?" The blonde woman instantly clung to Ivan's arm as he said her name.
"You be Thisbe."
"What does Thisbe get to do?"
"She gets to be the one Pyramus loves."
She gave Ivan a blank look. "Why can't you be Pyramus then, brother?"
Because I'm too young to die. "Because Francis is better at acting like a romantic than I am."
"Who said this was acting?" Francis joked.
"Matthew..." Ivan continued with his list.
"Who?" everyone else asked.
The blonde Canadian boy with wavy boy hair sighed. "Me. Matthew."
"You have to be Thisbe's mother."
"Does that mean-?"
"Yes, Matvey will be in a dress once again."
"Aww." 'How come I'm always stuck in a dress?'
"Eduard shall be the father." The Canadian and Estonian inched away from each other. "And Raivis will be the *coughcowardlycough* lion." Raivis trembled.
"Mon ami, can't I just do all the roles?" Francis whined.
"... The show needs 5 people and one of you is bad enough, comrade."
"Now go practice your lines."
Raivis looked at his one line. "Rawr."
Here be-eth thine initial chapter, peoples. ^_^
England: (Facepalm) This cannot end well.
Me: At least I'm trying. And if I fail, I may as well fail epically.