Title: The Great Curl Debacle

Fandom: Axis Powers: Hetalia

Rating: T

Genre: Comedy

Pairing: None?

Summary: What's this? The Bad Touch Trio have made their most daring (dangerous) plan yet… A worldwide rampage pulling every gravity-defying curl of hair they can find!

Disclaimer: Lemme check… Nope, don't own yet. I'm working on it, though

Opening A/N: -can't talk for all her laughing- … Anyhow, my next story is up! Seriously though, what's with me and parody…

The Great Curl Debacle

An Axis Powers: Hetalia Fanfic by Triangular Prism

Chapter Zero : Basement Boredom

It is a fact that great plans come from great boredom. It is also fact that these great plans are not always beneficial. Particularly since this one, masterful, dangerous plan was born in the mind of one sharp, cunning, and deviously bored individual with too much time on his hands.

Hereon forth, known as Prussia.

One cloudy, rainy day saw the three members of the 'Bad Touch Trio,' France, Prussia, and Spain respectively, all lounging around the various pieces of furniture in Prussia's house.

Well, Germany's house. Prussia's basement. It was rather large and all, so the albino ex-Nation had taken it upon himself to furnish the allotted space exactly how he wanted… But that is not the issue. The issue at hand was that all three Nations were absolutely positively bored.

Boredom + Bad Touch Trio = not a good combination.

"Hey France, you got any idea what to do right now?" Prussia mumbled from underneath a dirty magazine, stretched out across a wide sofa with his arm hanging off the side. France blinked and looked up from the counter where he sat, half-nodding off.

"Non, I do not," he said sleepily, and allowed his head to fall back on his arms. Meanwhile, Spain was happily mashing away on a controller, eyes glued to Prussia's wide-screen television and Xbox, seemingly oblivious to the other two.

"Ni una bruja, una vez más ... No debe sorprender, no debe sorprender..." he mumbled under his breath, then let out a despairing cry. "Ahh! No no no, I didn't even go near it!"

The Game Over screen flashed, and he dropped his head in his hands.

"THIS SUCKS!" The porno magazine was suddenly thrown across the room, hitting the wall with a dull thud before sliding to the ground. France jerked up at the noise, and Spain looked over questioningly.

"What's wrong, mi amigo?" he began, and Prussia swung around to sit, staring moodily at the stairway leading up to Germany's part of the house. Or territory, as his younger brother liked to stress.

"What's wrong? I'm freaking bored out of my mind, that's what's wrong!" the albino wailed, flopping dramatically backwards. "Why does West always kick me down here whenever Italy's over? Dammit!"

"Oh? Italy's here, is that it?" France perked up visibly.

"Yeah. If he wanted to hardcore make-out or something, I'd get it, but seriously they never do anything," Prussia grumbled, "Besides Italy making pasta or something. Seriously!" He strangled the air. "West needs to make a move already. Italy's just so damn cute, why's he holding back?"

With that he flopped back down on the couch.

"Hohoho… perhaps the two of them need a push in the ways of l'amour?" the French Nation was meanwhile chuckling, a suspicious glint in his eyes. Spain had set his game controller aside, muttering about jockeys and chargers before scooting closer to join in the conversation.

"Don't bother, he'll kick you out. It's happened to me enough times… stupid bruder. Seriously, he needs to get laid." Prussia yawned, looking for all the world like an indifferent teenager. "Prude. For a closet pervert he's still kinda clueless. It was awesome when— Wait! You guys know what Italy's curl is, right?" At this he looked up, suddenly excited. Both France and Spain laughed and nodded knowingly at the question.

"Lovi's curl is like that too," Spain sang, "Of course I figured it out by accident, and he wouldn't talk to me for so long after that…"

"Heh. That's basically what happened to West. He pulled the curl; Italy got all- y'know, and the look on West's face when he found out, hilarious! Oh gott, best thing ever!"

The three Nations had a private chuckle over this. It was common knowledge what exactly the curls of the Italy brothers were. As France started babbling about spreading l'amour to those in need, and Spain poked the crumbled porn magazine on the floor, Prussia allowed his thoughts to drift. Those curls really were the weirdest things. Nobody knew why that acted as… erogenous zones, or how they even managed to stick up. It was like they defined gravity. Not to mention they weren't the only ones to have those curls; a bunch of different nations had some sort of strange defect with their hair. Japan called them ahoge, whatever that meant… Did all the other curls act as erogenous zones? Woah, that would be….

…Fun to find out…

It was at this exact moment, sitting on a couch in the basement of his brother's house, that the first inklings of the devious plan began to grow in the dark corners of Prussia's mind. Neither France nor Spain seemed to notice when the ex-Nation sat up bolt-right, his mouth hanging open as the gears rapidly spun around and around, until everything became clear in one beautiful, split second.

And thus the world was doomed…

"MEIN GOTT!"

Startled, the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio turned their attention to the third and final member. Prussia had leapt upon the cushions, reds eyes over bright and sparkling.

"You guys!" he bellowed, "I've got an idea! The most frickin' awesome idea in the world!"

"…You do?" Spain titled his head. "Should I be worried? You've got that look in your eyes again…"

"Look! Look! Everyone knows what Italy's curl does, right? And Romano's?" the albino said excitedly, jumping to the floor and beckoning France closer. Intrigued, France did so, sliding from the counter to listen to this supposed awesome plan.

"Well, what about the other curls?" Prussia went on, gesturing wildly. "What do they do? No one's ever known, no one's ever tried! You guys, do you get it?"

"I… Think I know where this is headed, mon ami!" France's eyes widened slowly as he caught on. A wicked grin spread across his face, right as the idea dawned in Spain's mind.

"You can't possibly mean…!"

"Exactly! We go on a worldwide rampage…" the mastermind pounded a fist on the floor, sending vibrations through the surface.

"…AND PULL EVERY CURL OF EVERY NATION THERE IS!"

A map had been roughly pulled from the wall and spread across the floor, corners secured as the three Nations poured over the countries of the world.

"Okay. So obviously, there's Italy and Romano," Prussia began, marking the respective Nations with a heavy marker. "We can start with them first since we already know what they do."

"I'll be the one to take care of Lovi!" Spain interjected, raising a hand, "I don't want you guys near his cute little curl!"

"Okay, fine. Next, our neighborhood. We'll loop around and nab Austria as soon as Hungary's out of the way. France, you'll be the distraction."

"What? Why me?"

"…Oh man, dibs on Mariazel! Kesesesese, It'll be like Silesia all over again!"

Prussia rubbed his hands together in glee, before continuting.

"Who else has a curl? I know Norway does, that little one off to the side, but he's kinda far north…"

"Greece has one," the suggestion was put forth by Spain again, "The weird one that splits off, right?"

"Oh yeah! Okay, Greece…"

"…And actually, Turkey has the same kind of curl by his neck…" the Spaniard seemed a little less enthusiastic at the mention of this. Prussia tapped the map and marked off Greece and Turkey respectively.

"Greece is going to be easy. He sleeps all the time. Turkey though…"

"It'll have to be hard, and fast," France sigh with a shake of his head, "Before he has the chance to stop us."

"Got it. Okay, I think that's all for Europe, so… next up, Asia!"

"South Korea!" Both Spain and France shouted at the same time, and thus the country was marked by a chuckling Prussia.

"Hey, do you think… Taiwan counts?" he asked thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "She's sorta got one. It's kinda long and hangs down, but it does crinkle at the end… I'll just add her…"

"I might have to be the one to pull her curl." The expression on France's face suddenly darkened as he grinned. Spain discreetly shifted away.

"Pervert. Right, add Norway, who'll be freaking fun, and then we can move over to North America! Our tour will end with America, and, uh…"

"Amérique? You would count Nantucket?"

"Well, yeah, it sticks up doesn't it? Might as well give it a shot. But guys…"

Prussia frowned deeply, suddenly lost in thought. "…Who was that other guy? I think he lives above America… He's got that mad crazy curl that loops, but… uh, Ca…ken…Kenya? No…"

"Huh? Someone lives up there? Isn't it just the North Pole…?" Spain tried to think as well, wrinkling his brow in concentration. "Uhhh… Canadia…?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten Canada?" France finally burst out in horror, staring at the other two with an expression of disbelief. "Mon petite Mathieu? America's brother? How could you?"

"CANADA! That was it!" Prussia shouted, pumping a fist in the air, and France facepalmed in misery.

"As his papa I must be the one to pull his curl!" He pouted, shooting a look at both of them.

Meanwhile, Prussia had successfully marked each and everyone country on the map, connecting them all with a bold line. He jumped to his feet, and stared gleefully down, proud of his handy work.

"Okay you guys, this is it!" he crowed in triumph. "This is gonna be the best… plan… EVER!"

.

.

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*All translations are through Google Translate, so…

Ni una bruja, una vez más ... No debe sorprender, no debe sorprender...: "Not another witch, again… must not startle, must not startle…" Can you guess what game he's playing? XD

The rest you've probably picked up over time.

Thanks for reading!