63

7 1 19
                                    


Hours later, when I was supposed to go to bed, a phone rang. Because it was upstairs, same as my room, I got to it first.

"You've reached the Be-" I began the usual greeting, but the female voice cut me off.

"Ach díky bohu, Itálie-"

"Um, actually, Griselda here," I smiled nervously and tried to not notice Papa making gestures for me to give him the phone.

"Aj, um, hi," she slided into english, "Anežka here."

Ms Czechia! So I was right!

"Ciao, Ms Czechia! What can I do for you?" I asked, though I was pretty sure I know the answer.

"Okay, well, it's kind of a long story, is your father there?"

"I'm afraid not," I lied, purposefully ignoring the intensified gesturing. Czechia muttered a few I assume profanities, but remained calm.

"Listen, could you please go get your father? I need to speak with him about your Uncle and... your other father," she explained and sighed in a 'god dammit, a few more and I'll break' manner.

"Okay," I just now handed the phone to Papa. He grabbed it as if his life depended on it... Oh shit. Don't jump to conclusions, brain, don't!

After a while of rapid conversation where Ms Czechia had to repeat everything just in case, he sprinted downstairs. I only got the words 'car' and 'drunk' and 'praštěný Dánsko' out of that, so I was concerned. Really concerned.

"Papa? What's going on?"

He rummaged through Vati's pile on his working table and found the keys of the car.

"I'll be back in a while, sweetie," he kissed my head and turned to leave. But I wasn't having that.

"Papa! What is going on?!"

"Oh, well, Ms Czechia said she needed someone to drive..." Oh?

"I'm going with you!"

"Sweetheart... no."

"Come on!"

"No, you're going to go to bed and sleep."

"I won't be able to."

"Yes you will."

"No, I won't."

"Papa, please! Tell me what's going on!"

He hesitated, but I broke him with my sad kitten face.

"...Czechia said they got drunk and Prussia and Denmark ran away and accidentally got on a night bus and so she and Luddy had to get on as well and now they're stuck god knows where and need someone to drive them home."

Well, that was unexpected. But... when I thought about it, not so much. Anyway, I told him I'm definitely going too, and dressed so quick he couldn't complain about me 'slowing him down'. I was a bit sleepy, yes, but I really wanted to see this. The pets were awoken as well, slightly concerned, except Mitzi, who only woke up, blinked and slept on. Aster, too, decided to go back to her slumber soon after her, but Blackie and Berlitz remained awake and confused why we're leaving in the middle of the night. Papa still didn't want to me to come with him but also didn't want to leave me alone. And I - hell, I was more than ready for adventure! A story for the future generations to tell!

Papa was persistent, but so can be I. (Is... is that correct? Is it not? I don't know!)

A while later we were sitting in the car and I was calling Ms Czechia again for instructions. I eventually found the bus stop where they were on a map, and found myself a purpose - navigating Papa, because he couldn't drive and look at the map in the same time. Or at least it wouldn't end well if he did.

I'll spare you the details. After about an hour of

"NononononoNO! PAPA! Turn RIGHT!"

"Okay, cross here! TURN AROUND I SAID WE NEED TO CROSS HERE!"

"I have no idea where we are."

"We're lost, ba da dee ba da daa, ba da dee...."

"SLOW DOWN SLOW DOWN!"

we made it to the small village's bus stop on the edge of a road, and there they were.

Vati being hugged by mumbling-nonsense Uncle, while Ms Czechia and 'Uncle' Denmark were having what looked like a deep philosophical debate.

I wanted to get out of the car, but Papa was faster and already threw himself on Vati.

"LUDDY!!!! I was so scared!"

"H-Hey Italieeeeeeeen," Uncle Prussia slurred. Ms Czechia turned to them and sighed with a smile. "Hello, Itálie. I'm glad to see you. These idiots," she pointed at the other three, "are, well, idiots. Blbci. You know?"

Papa didn't, I think I sorta did. That kind of idiots that annoy you, but you can't kill them because you love them too much, huh?

"Hi Vati!" I opened the car door and ran up to him. He frowned.

"Feliciano?"

"Si, amore?" Aw.

"You brought Kätzchen?"

"Nope! I brought myself!" I announce. "I was the navigator!"

Vati was too drunk to think about that any further, so he only frowned deeper.

Ms Czechia, who looked the soberest of the four, then voiced a brilliant idea.

"Screw everything and let's go home, guys."

So that's what we did. After we fit into the car -I had to sit on Vati's lap because Papa was driving, even though Ms Czechia had wanted to- and found our way out through the narrow village streets. During the ride, Ms Czechia -squished in the middle seat because she's the smallest- and Uncle Denmark came back to their philosophical debate about the symbolism in H. C. Andersen's fairytales and it was really interesting and I would've joined if I wasn't so tired.

When we got home, nobody asked anything. Nobody had enough energy to ask anything. The dogs welcomedus with glory. Denmark was half-carried to Uncle's room where he put a spare mattress room and Ms Czechia "call me Anežka, your father, Uncle and I have been drinking together for far longer than your know" settled in the living room. She could handle alcohol really well, she even put bottles of water to Uncle's room and dads' bedroom before going to sleep.

Soon, our house was filled with deep breathing and occastional snores. And peace.



———————————

Sorry it's a bit late... I had a lot of work to do. The next chapter will be the Spooky scary skeletons one, guys! 

...most likely. 

Also, just something: a Czech edition of 12 Andersen's most well-known fairytales were voted as the most beautiful edition there is :D I'm not really sure when, but they were, so I'm imagining these two bond over that and beer. 

Translations - Ach díky bohu, Itálie - Oh thank god, Italy

Praštěný Dánsko - mildly crazy/goofy Denmark 

Blbci - Idiots (sorta) (pretty mild insult)

From the diary of Griselda Vargas-BeilschmidtWhere stories live. Discover now