notmiddleearth | - One Kiwi - Phone

A. Phone: [At 727 Anderson Lane there is no screams of shock, or yelling to go home. Just a quiet click as New Zealand picks up the telephone, and calmly dials a number]

Oz? You there? Right, I know you did this, you're the only one who would. So tell me where the hell Shaun is. And where I am, because this isn't my house. Woke up in bed with some shelia apparently, and you know that I'm a [STATIC] and that I don't really go for that type.

B. Action: [Sometime in the afternoon you'll find a little blonde kid wandering around in badly made pants under a ripped and muddy dress. It use to be so pretty once, with frills, and such a lovely cream colour.... and well... now it looks like it was shoved into a blender. Or chopped up by a 6 year old. Which it was. As the kid wanders she stares up at everything with wide eyes, a few toy blocks clenched in her hands. Who knew that simply trying to have a late lunch would do this?]

Mummmm... Mummmm... England! [This place is strange as fuck, she would also say, if she wasn't so concerned about getting a spanking for a foul mouth.]

(ooc: If you chose B. replies will be coming from kiwicolony )

Like hell it was me and how would I know where your boyfriend is?

( The morning starts off relatively calm. Poland really isn't much of a morning person so when he crawls out of bed and goes to ~~his~~ kitchen to make some breakfast, he isn't really expecting to run into anyone. Oh, but he hears them and he can't help but comment, )

Like, excuse me?

( Who's a chick. Poland's not a chick. Is your brain malfunctioning or something. And no, it hasn't dawned on him quite yet that this isn't his house. )

Ah... A small, filthy girl with giant eyebrows looking for Angleterre...

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A for now until I make my own post also 1/many

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B.

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