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Post by maplepolarhockey on Feb 4, 2013 17:47:18 GMT -5
February 3, 2001
Matthew Williams had been going over his paperwork in his office, safe in his private home in Quebec City, Quebec. He had been looking over the craze of the whole 'Mad Cow Disease' and how everyone was getting up in arms over it. He too was a bit concerned, but he felt that once certain precautions were taken and the proper health care steps were done, then there shouldn't be any issue. Unfortunately, his government wasn't exactly as level-headed as the nation himself. There had been talk of banning Brazilian beef imports into Canada until the country in question worked on fixing the issues and handing in a statement of information to prove that there was no Mad Cow Disease within the Brazilian stock. The main cause of this was that in 1998, Brazil didn't prove on paper that there was no Mad Cow Disease, otherwise known as BSE, in their cattle.
Mattie's head flung up as soon as he felt something change, immediately calling his Prime Minister up and swearing in his head at the man going ahead and declaring a ban on Brazilian exports of beef into Canada, on the grounds of fear of BSE infecting the cattle there. Mattie tried to get his minister to explain to the Brazilian government the reasons behind it, or even to tell them that they wanted proof that the disease did not exist in the cattle in question, but the man was not hearing it. A deep sigh left the young nation and he hung up, frustrated and rubbing the bridge of his nose. This... was not going to be fun. Hopefully Brazil would be good enough to hear Mattie out before going up in arms over this. Well, he hoped, but sometimes... that didn't always happen. It was just a ban on beef, and it wouldn't last for too long. And it was just a stupid precaution on his people's part. He also prayed that Alfred and his sister, Mexico wouldn't do anything stupid either. They wouldn't honestly freak out over such a stupid issue either... would they?
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Post by Brazil on Feb 5, 2013 20:31:39 GMT -5
February 3rd, 2001
Palácio da Alvorada, Brasília - DF
Brazil Luciano sleepily walked into his office, yawning and bumping into furniture and chairs as he did so. It was so early, and with the Daylight's saving too... He absolutely hated waking up early, especially during a saturday — Well, it couldn't be helped, his boss has stopped him from travelling to Rio de Janeiro in order to remain at the capital, and work for the weekend. Now, honestly, what kind of boss orders a man like Luciano to work on a Saturday instead of allowing him to enjoy the beach? Cruel, a truly heartless soul. The brunet took off his jacket, tugging the tie loose and the air conditioner on as soon as he walked into the office, melting from the summer's heat. Brasília was a beautiful city, no questions there, but the climate... Oh, at least it wouldn't last for long! Soon, it'd rain and the grass would be green again. He paused, thinking about the dry, arid scenery and his cows, the animals he raised so carefully to resist the burning sun — Oh, of course the farms were all far from Brasília, but it didn't stop him from thinking. In Luciano's heart, from Monte Caburaí to Chuí, it was all very close and far away still. He shook his head and decided to stop thinking about cows, North and South, looking down at his own desk next. In front of him, the quickest way to start the day: A warm cup of coffee, pitch black with two sugars, and the newspaper. The brunet smiled a bit, scratched his own nose and leaned over, sipping the coffee — Colombia would love to taste it, he'd bet... Still, before he could dream about the lady, or coffee, or anything honestly, perhaps just fall asleep and be done with the day, something in the headlines caught his attention. He frowned, adjusted himself in the small chair and, leaning over, grabbed the newspaper with his free hand. Canada declares a ban on the exports of Brazilian meat (...)The measure, adopted by Canada's Prime Minister, is under the justificative of Mad Cow disease in the Brazilian cattle, as no documents from the Brazilian government (...)[/center] In resume, there wasn't even a decent explanation! Luciano cursed, loud Portuguese quickly leaving his mouth and booming all across the small office. The newspaper was tossed aside in a hurry, coffee long forgotten in the table as the Brazilian scrambled for the cellphone, dialing that plague of a stuck-up Canadian quicker than lightning. "Matthew?" He called after a while. " Canadá, I know you're there. Listen... How are you? Yes, I'm doing great, now..." Luciano's voice trembled with sheer anger, because the blond could have at least warned him first that there would be this ban, could have had the consideration to inform him and demand the stupid paperwork — which he had already delivered, thank you so much — before doing anything. Oh, but he just was Alfred's brother after all! "Tell me, what is this bullshit about a ban?! Because I think my press is lying to me." He pressured the other on, his lips trembling in a cordial smile that wouldn't convince anyone of absolutely any calm or patience. What a great way to start the weekend! |
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Post by maplepolarhockey on Feb 5, 2013 23:15:04 GMT -5
Matthew was rubbing his brow as he recieved the newspaper for the day, groaning deeply in his throat and feeling like he was dealing with a bunch of idiots! That was not the way to go about doing this!! Have an explanation to the reason behind the ban, but don't go about it in a stupid fashion. He was starting to hate how his reporters never gave a lot of information, or how his government was blindly following America's example. Thank god, he didn't have any idiots in power like some of the morons in America. He blinked as his cell-phone rang, checking the caller id and sighing, opening it and getting ready for an angry nation on the other line. Some days, it just wasn't worth it to get up.
" Bonjour, Brazil... Yes, I'm here, breathe. I'm doing fine, a bit tired. How are you doing? The ban? Yeah, no your papers are not lying to you. Just calm down and breathe, I'm going to explain everything I can to the best of my ability. Yes, I understand it's a stupid thing to get up in arms over. Luciano... Luciano, listen to me! I am here to help explain, all right? Do not get over-excited. The whole ban started because of the paranoia of my people and government over that Mad Cow scare. I know you make sure that your careful with your cows, Luciano... but you know as well as I do that sometimes people can be overexcited about scares like this. Did you send the paperwork over already? Good, hopefully we'll get it in short order and be done with this. No, I don't intend to stop any other imports coming into Canada. I highly doubt that anyone else in the NAFTA agreement will do the same... stupid... I'm so, so, so sorry, Luciano. I just remembered who my brother is. Breathe! I can hear your anger over the phone. I am confident in my government that they'll use their brains once we have the actual paperwork. I promise, Luciano, I'll try to fix things. I don't want any bad blood between us over this. All right... I'll contact you again once I get the paperwork in. Okay... Try to have a better day, Luciano. Au revoir, Brazil."
Mattie hung up the phone and buried his face in his hands, feeling tired and exhausted from everything. Oh, this was not going to end well. He just hoped that his people would listen to him for once on this. He didn't want his relationship with Brazil to be tarnished over the Mad Cow Disease, especially since it was such a stupid thing to break a good, working relationship over. He was not a warmongering nation by any stretches of the imagination, and hated it when things like this happened. He always tried to make it a point of pride that he was the one nation that was peace-keeping and tried to have open relations with everyone. He just went back to his paperwork, before planning on making a pointed visit to his governmental heads.
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Post by Brazil on Feb 8, 2013 11:42:50 GMT -5
Oh, Hell, at least he picked up. Now, if only Matthew would let him speak... He listened to the Canadian ramble on, if anything the other's hesitance giving Luciano some minimal satisfaction that he wasn't the only one getting angry there. Still, if only the blond would let him speak too — but that would be demanding too much, wouldn't it? Luciano ran his hands over his hair, groaning a bit at the situation in general before he too decided to raise his voice a bit, and perhaps impose himself. God, wouldn't he shut up?!
"No, you listen to me!" He yelled again, sitting on top of his desk after tossing some paperwork aside. Now, Matthew was excusing himself, something about it being blamed on his people's paranoia. "Look, they can shove their paranoia up their asses, for all I care, but I don't even import European grains!" He shouted. "My meat is clean, do you hear me? God, Matthew, do I need a paperwork to state the obvious?!" What paperwork was he talking about, even... Luciano frowned, then vaguely remember something that he has sent a good two years back. "Yes, I sent it! Two years ago!" Oh, could a man test his patience even more? Luciano would bet an asshole like Martín, or even Antonio would do this to him, but Matthew... The guy barely spoke up during meetings, what the hell was that about playing Alfred-wannabe?
"If you weren't mixing planes with diseases, if you kept a fucking track of where you meat comes from I wouldn't—" Okay, he was overdoing it. Luciano took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead as the Canadian promised him that, in a short time, everything would be solved. What did he understand as a short time, anyway? A week, a month?! "You'll try to fix this...? You're telling me you will try?!" So much for controlling his anger. "No, listen here, I will not let it slide, okay? VOCÊ ME OUVIU, SEU—" And then Matthew hung up on his face.
Hung up. The nerve.
Luciano cursed, slammed his phone down and walked off to his secretary. "Sônia, dear!" He called. "Do me a favour? Yes, send some paperwork to Matthew... No, it should say nothing." And before the woman could open her mouth, or complain about whatever was going on in Luciano's mind, the brunet explained further: "You'll print a 200-page paperwork on just pictures of cows. The ugliest you can find, alter it, write with comic sans, do what you want. Paint them with my flag, I don't care, just make sure it screams 'Do they look sick to you?' somewhere. Oh, and send it fast, yeah? Good, I love you." He squeezed the woman's cheeks, then stormed off to get himself some coffee.
If Matthew Williams wanted a war, he would have it.
VOCÊ ME OUVIU, SEU—" = "DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU—"
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Post by maplepolarhockey on Feb 9, 2013 0:18:53 GMT -5
Mattie had tried to get his point across to Brazil, but had a bad feeling that his rush to explain everything just ended up badly. He pressed his head into his hands, and knew that Brazil was going to take this too far. He sighed again and stood up, getting ready for the hell-fire coming his way. Sometimes he hated his life. He noticed his fax going and he rubbed his brows, having a feeling he knew where it was from. Good god, this was not going to end well. He checked his papers, and decided that the 150 plain pages he had wasn't going to cut it. He slid another fifty in the printer and let Brazil's handiwork have at it.
He was too busy to give into childish anger. He didn't get mad cow in his land, but his people and him sometimes, were too gullible and following in his stupid brother's footsteps too much. He was discussing things with his people, tiredly ignoring how his fax kept printing off pictures of cows. Great... He didn't even understand why Brazil was so up in arms about it too. He dealt with his government, asking them to not prolong this stupid decision. He understood that it took a while for files to be mailed from Brazil to Canada, and he hoped Brazil wouldn't be impatient the whole time. He couldn't help this!! He couldn't just go up to his government, which did fucking act without his regard in certain matters, and tell them to end the ban because he believed that Brazil did not have Mad Cow!! Things did not work that way in real life!
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Post by Brazil on Feb 11, 2013 18:47:43 GMT -5
February 8th, 2001
Palácio da Alvorada - Brasília, DF
Brazil Over the course of the week, things had not gone better. Luciano had pressed Matthew on, no doubt, but when the Canadian simply didn't put the ban down — or his government, it was all the same in Brazil's mind — he knew he had to take things a little step further. After a long day of sheer, tough planning, Luciano laid down his little plan on how to make Matthew's life a little bit worse. Day by day. Because honestly, he just plainly deserved it, especially just after Alfred declared that he'd join the ban (something about being a heroic thing, and Luciano just felt embarrassed for him, if that's possible), dragging the Mexican twins along. He didn't even dare phone Mexico to know their stance, Itzel would probably blame all on him and pray for la Doña Muerte to scare him, the crazy woman. As if it was his fault! Because Matthew had to be an idiot to begin with! And he wasn't buying that sweet talk about it being all the kid's government fault — as if. He started with simple threats, cow gifs annexed to e-mails (which were, by the way, carefully diagrammed in black and white, with touches of pink, sometimes even shaped like a cow), ridiculous puns with milk and of course, whenever he had to type a word where 'M' and 'O' were placed together, he'd bold it — most would become MOOst. Simple. Yet, it was not enough, so whenever Matthew asked for paperwork, Luciano would carefully send them in milk bottles, all labelled «Careful: Those contain Mad Milk disease, handle with care!». Never mind that he got to the point where he'd start leaving splotches of red ink over the paperwork, and under them a small apology written as: "I'm sorry again, Matthew, but another of my cows started laughing maniacally and chocked to death." with the respective translation in French, because he was just that classy. After all, he was at war, and if Canada wanted to mix his shady politics concerning airplane sells with meat — as, obviously, this was a matter of trying to make Luciano weaker economically — he was welcome to try. The Latino narrowed his eyes at the screen, already planning his next little move, when he figured it would be best to check on how the Canadian was doing. Perhaps today was his lucky day? He opened a new e-mail, formatted as he had been doing previously, and typed in. So, have you decided to end the ban already, or do I have to sacrifice myself to the Cow Gods first?
Itzel is South Mexico, her brother would be Pedro.
La Doña Muerte is, of course, Lady Death. |
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Post by maplepolarhockey on Feb 12, 2013 18:49:56 GMT -5
February 8th, 2001
Matthew was by now, ready to just scream at his governmental body, his stupid, damn brother and the Mexico twins, though not really since Al probably strong armed them into this. He was rubbing his forehead at the papers being sent in milk bottles, and the red ink on the pages, and everything else. He was feeling frustrated, tired and wanting to just pummel something. It wasn't his fault that his governmental body was made of idiots! He sighed tiredly as he tried to work around what he was given, getting a rather large migraine. This was, by far, the stupidest things that had ever happened. Even with his own country's lack of wisdom and common sense, especially with his own problems with Mad Cow, it seemed so stupid to him.
Another problem was that Alfred was all for the ban, so fucking paranoid about Mad Cow and things like that. He just wanted this damn thing over with. It just pissed him right off. He was really fighting with his government over getting a proper NAFTA group to Brazil to test the cows themselves, just wanting to not deal with this anymore. He even snapped at Al over this, being very passive agressive with his idiot stance on this. AND it wasn't even about the fucking airplane sales or anything like that! He was all about being a peaceful nation, one that avoided war and kept good relations with other nations if he could help it. He wasn't a warmonger. It just was becoming tiring. He checked his email and opened another message from Brazil, exhausted with all this shit.
Mattie's brows shot up with seeing the message and he blew up right then and there over this whole thing. " Mon dieu! Ce n'était pas mon intention stupide, putain la vache, petit idiot! Je ne peux pas contrôler mon gouvernement putain de la façon dont vous semblez penser que je peux! Je ne peux que parler et essayer d'influencer les choses d'une manière qui pourrait fonctionner pour nous deux! Je ne peux pas baiser juste leur dire d'arrêter l'interdiction et à accepter que vous n'avez pas la maladie de la vache folle quand vous êtes juste apporter toute cette merde, me empêchant de travailler les papiers, et vous me garder bombardant avec des farces stupides et des morceaux de merde qui tombent de votre bouche! Grandissez-vous stupide, putain d'idiot! Ce n'est pas mon choix en la matière! J'essaie d'être le parti maturité ici, puisque, apparemment, le Brésil est pleine de baise les enfants! Même mon propre frère est un enfant pansy-cul avec peu ou pas de processus de pensée et croit en chaque grand désastre comme si c'était la peste putain! Va te faire foutre, petit, merde enfantin!" He was huffing and leant back, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to calm down. This was not something he could blow up over. He forced calm into him and sent back a very simple sentence.
I am trying to work on reducing the ban between our Countries. I would appreciate it if you could send me, in a mature, responsible way, the paperwork needed. At such a time, I will also send over a representation of NAFTA to assess if your cows do not have this disease. I hope this ban will be resolved quickly and efficiently.
[[Translation: My god! This was not my intention you stupid, cow fucking, little idiot! I cannot control my fucking government the way you seem to think I can! I can only mention and try to sway things in a way that would work for both of us! I can't fucking just tell them to stop the ban and to accept that you have no mad cow disease when you're just bringing all this shit up, preventing me from working out the paperwork, and you keep bombarding me with pranks and stupid pieces of shit that fall from your mouth! Grow up you stupid, fucking idiot! This is not my choice in the matter! I'm trying to be the mature party here, since apparently, Brazil is full of fucking children! Even my own brother is a pansy-assed child with little to no thought process and believes in every big disaster like it's the fucking plague! Fuck you, you little, childish shit!]]
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Post by Brazil on Feb 16, 2013 15:06:57 GMT -5
Luciano just had enough time to stretch his legs a bit and grab himself a cup of coffee at the end of the corridor before Matthew had sent him another e-mail. Ah, great, more work to do… The Brazilian growled, not sure he wanted to go back to his cramped office and read whatever else the Canadian had typed this time… The issue was not being taken well by his press either, already addressing the other's Government posture as childish, and a vain attempt to break Brazil economically. Not that it would even work, as Israel had assured him he would not cease his imports of Brazilian meat, as well as Manuel, God bless the Chilean. Too bad Luciano couldn't retaliate Alfred Jones too… He wished quite bad, but he doubted the American would even understand a simple 'Eat more chicken — we sell them too!'. He also, sadly, didn't buy enough products from Canada to promote a ban of his own, and while he had stopped drinking Bohêmia, there were plenty of other beer around, not owned by shady Canadians. The Brazilian did pity the tourists, too, who were probably being tricked into bad places far more often if they dare say they were Canadian, not American, but alright… They were asking for it. He yawned and stretched lazily, sitting down on his desk as he opened the e-mail again, simply frowning at the words. Seriously, Matthew sounded like a broken record of some sorts, somebody had to go there and slap the boy into saying something other than "Give me the documents.". Or perhaps all Canadians were secretly robots, he was not above questioning that… Luciano snickered at his own thoughts, then proceeded to type a clean and more polite answer this time. See, he was willing to be so cordial, and was being so generous, he left the e-mail in a simple uniform black this time, no cow gifs. Then his telephone rang. " Alô?" The Brazilian hummed, but as the person at the other side talked on and on, his small smile turned into a frown. "Wait, man, calm down, stop laughing! What…? Cows where?!" He tried, and only after a while the man managed to saw what he wanted. It was one of the employers at the Canadian Embassy of Brasília, telling him with a humorous tone that some college students had successfully managed to put a cow in the embassy. It took Luciano a couple of minutes to blink, imagine the scene in his head, and then, he just bursted out laughing. "Oh, man, just make a good churrasco!" He joked on, and after more talking, they both agreed that the cow would be taken away, and sold or controlled somehow. Well, he doubted Matthew, however, would take the news as lightly. I'm not sure what is this paperwork you need. I've sent you all the paperwork I could possibly give a good two times already, please be specific. Other than that, inform me the day said group will come, and I'll gladly take them to our average farm and slaughterhouse, as well as one of our industries where we produce grains — you'll soon see there's absolutely no problem with my cows. I hope so too, but it's all up to you at this point.
Ps.: The cow at the Embassy was not my idea. The ambassador had guaranteed me, however, a BBQ is in order, if he doesn't decide to raise her as the mascot of the place instead. You're welcome to join them, if you're not scared of dying ;D
"Alô?" means simply 'hello', but you only say so when picking up the phone.
Churrasco means, obviously, BBQ.
Manuel is the representation of Chile at LH.
Bohêmia is a Brazilian beer that had, back then, been bought by a group of Canadians. People really stopped drinking that brand of beer back then until the ban was over. |
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Post by maplepolarhockey on Feb 16, 2013 23:30:37 GMT -5
Matthew was just having an all around bad day. He was tired of trying to talk sense into his counterparts and his government, and was just so sick of this whole thing. He was pacing his office, his glasses in one hand and the other rubbing the bridge of his nose over and over again. He finally, FINALLY got the paperwork from Brazil, both copies, thank god, and had officially shown it to his government. Things were finally starting to move along, and he had assembled a group of people, part of the NAFTA, to go down to Brazil to get this whole thing fixed. A deep sigh left him when he heard his email go off. He shifted to check things out, opening the email and reading it. He laughed tiredly at the cow in his embassy, truly finding that funny. There were some smart kids in Brazil after all.
He settled down in his chair and thought of what to type, wondering how to phrase what he managed to push through. He was getting sick of Al coming over and telling him he was being a "Hero" for doing this to Brazil. He was so tempted to just blow up at the other and tell him to fuck off, but he couldn't. It wasn't a Canadian thing to do, no matter how badly he was tempted. He smiled, just glad that this fucking ban would soon be over.
I finally received your paperwork and showed it at a meeting with my government. They had finally agreed to send down a party from the NAFTA to analyze the cows you have at your home. They will be arriving around February 13/14th, so expect them to arrive around that time. I hope that this will settle the issue between us. I would like to go to this BBQ, but sadly, it seems there are issues keeping me here. I apologize for all this craziness, and I hope that we can keep a positive relationship afterwards.
Mattie was proud of himself for doing this and he leant back, rubbing his lips and he closed his eyes, sending it off. He had to be the bigger man here, especially since his government started this whole fucking thing. It was tiring sometimes, and he was starting to feel tired and worn. He was having problems of his own, and just prayed that this stupid fight would be over soon.
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Post by Brazil on Feb 17, 2013 17:36:55 GMT -5
Luciano had to read Matthew's new e-mail a good three times to believe on its words. Honestly, it felt surreal but there it was, finally a mature posture for once — not that Luciano da Silva was one to talk, acting anything but mature about the whole deal. Well, he considered his job well done, as it did work to annoy Canada more than anything, and while he couldn't manage to go as far as he wanted, which was to paint the other's bear with black spots, and put a cow on Matthew's office, he would say he did a great job. Alfred would disagree, and Martín maybe said something about him being stupid, but the other's comments were nearly always about that… The Brazilian smiled widely next, opened his agenda and scribbled on the next February 14th about the team's arrival. He supposed Matthew would come along, and there was really not a problem with it, he'd show everything and rub in the other's face that his cows were cleaner than Germany's wardrobe, so to speak. Yeah, he'd do that! Luciano just sent back a small 'ok' (or something about having received the e-mail and agreeing to it) and then turned off the machine, standing up from the uncomfortable office chair. Time to work. Right, if those people were coming, he'd better be prepared for them. Luciano didn't waste the next few hours, giving orders and turning the small repartition into a complete mess, making sure to call the farmers and the owner of the best slaughterhouse they had, in São Paulo, to set up a visit. Soon everybody who worked with Luciano knew about the news, and by the time Luciano actually went to talk to his boss, he had suggested even a small inspection team to actually make sure the cows were completely clean. See, all of that would have to go through the approval of his ministers and president, but to Hell if Luciano wasn't going to make sure to embarrass the Canadian with top-notch technology now. Well, perhaps his boss would say something… Still, for now, he waited for the other's arrival to completely settle this stupid crisis over. But, if he'd still send his paperwork in milk bottles until the ordeal was over? Always.
February 27rd, 2001
Palácio da Alvorada, Brasília - DF
Brazil He didn't receive any news from Canada after the team had left Brazil. In fact, the blond didn't even show up along with the Canadians, probably scared or maybe he just really hated Luciano, he couldn't know. It didn't stop the Brazilian from being polite to the visitants, however, and guide them to the slaughterhouses as ordered — Honestly, is there a better representant of Brazil than yours truly? Touché. It was also ridiculously pleasing to see the surprise in their faces that yes, he had top-notch technology and his cows were treated better than far many around the world. No. Instead, he got the warning from the newspaper, a sense of relief quickly taking over him as it simply stated that "Canada embarrasingly removes the ban after an inspection of the Brazilian cattle", no notes or possible declarations aside from the obvious. Right, so maybe it was more of the other's boss than his own fault but don't they simply talk in Canada? Luciano sighed, setting the newspaper aside in order to get more coffee. He was back on business, and wouldn't have to waste more money on pranks. Life was good. |
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