One day America was walking down the street on his way to McDonald's. He reached the front doors, but heard screaming and crying once he got inside. Someone was throwing a huge tantrum at the front of the line.
"I'm the hero, so I've got to find out what's wrong and fix it!" he thought. So he ran to the front of the line to see what all the commotion was about. But what he found shocked him. There at the front of the line stood Germany, red faced and annoyed, trying to calm a crying Italy.
"Dude, what's wrong? I'm the hero and I'm here to help!"
"Italy is upset because zhey do not serve pasta here," Germany sighed.
"Whyyyy? Whyyyy? Whyyyy a you no serve pastaaaa?" Italy wailed.
"ITALY, VE HAVE BEEN THROUGH ZIS! I TOLD YOU VE VERE GOING TO AMERICA'S MCDONALD'S SO THAT YOU COULD TRY SOMEZING NEW! YOU CANNOT SURVIVE EATING ONLY PASTA!" Germany yelled.
"But Germany, I a don't wanna eat anything other than pasta, I love pasta. And America's fast food is yuckyyyy!!!
"DUDE, TAKE THAT BACK!!!!
"No, I a no like your food!"
"TAKE IT BACK!!!
"No, I want pasta!"
America lunged at him and began to beat him with a french fry that he found on the floor. Italy screamed even louder and Germany tried desperately to pry America off, but his love and devotion for McDonald's was too strong.
"EAT THIS FRENCH FRY! YOU WILL EAT THIS FRENCH FRY AND LIKE IT!"
"No, you a got that off a the floor!"
"IT'S A MCDONALD'S FRENCH FRY, IT'S AWESOME NO MATTER WHAT! NOW EAT IT!"
"Okay, okay," Italy sobbed, waving his white flag. He ate the french fry. "Oh, Germany that was good. Can I have some of those please?" he asked, happy again.
Germany sighed deeply. "Yes, Italy," he said as he put his hand to his head to ease his headache.
"Problem solved, I'm the hero!"
YOU ARE READING
