Strange things about America (Not mine!)

Chapter 18

Chapter 18: McDonalds

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." America muttered under his breath as he stared at the ad that had popped up during one of the meetings. It was a McDonald's ad, and all the countries had thrown him disgusted glances when it had popped up.

"Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate..." America muttered as he glared at the projector, hoping that by staring at it long enough that it would explode into a thousand pieces.

"Um, Germany?" Italy whimpered as he tugged on the man's jacket sleeve.

"Ja, Italy?" Germany sighed as he looked down at the cowering Italian.

"America is giving off an evil cloud of doom like Russia for some reason. Can you tell him to stop?"

Germany glanced over at the American, and froze at what he saw. America was looking absolutely murderous, and was muttering something over and over under his breath. (Not unlike Russia and his KolKolKol.) He was also emanating a cloud of doom around him.

"Nein! Do you want me to die?" Germany hissed back as he tried to ignore the now shaking Italian.

"Romano, can you ask America to stop being scary?" Italy asked as he tugged on his brother's sleeve.

"I wouldn't go near that hamburger bastard right now if I was offered a life time of pasta." Romano said as he pushed his brother off him.

Italy looked around him, and saw all of the other countries were trying to avoid eye contact with America. All, that was, except Russia. Russia, maybe due to the fact that he gave off the same cloud of foreboding evil time to time, didn't seem to notice that America was acting a little scary. Italy gulped, and started over to Russia.

"Um, excuse me Mr. Russia?" Italy said as he cowered in front of Russia. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea.

"Da?" Russia asked, smiling at Italy.

"Could you ask America to stop looking so scary?" Italy said as he tried to stop himself from running away.

Russia frowned, and looked over at America, who was still giving the poor projector a death glare.

"Ah, no worries." Russia said as he patted Italy on top of the head. (Italy looked like he was going to faint at this point.) "I'll cheer him up."

"Hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate..." America muttered at the projector, which had finally stopped playing the McDonalds ad, only to play a Burger King ad. Suddenly, he felt someone hug him from behind, making him jump.

"What's wrong, comrade?" Russia asked with a smile.

"Huh?" America asked in surprise as he stared at Russia.

"Well, you looked upset, and Italy asked me to stop you from looking so scary. Hugs help people who are upset, da?" Russia asked as let go of America.

"Oh, thanks." America said as he smiled at Russia. "I do feel a little better." Russia beamed at this, and nodded over to Italy who sighed with relief to see America smiling again.

"So, why are you upset?" Russia asked as he sat next to America. "I've only seen you look this upset during the Cold War."

"McDonalds is ruining my life." America sighed.

"I thought you would have figured that out ten years ago." Russia said raising an eyebrow.

"Ha-ha, very funny." America replied sarcastically. "No, it's that I'm always going too grouped together with McDonalds for the rest of my life. And the sad thing is most people in my country hate McDonalds with a passion."

"Oh." Russia said as he tried not to look guilty. (Honestly, he never really thought America's ate anything else.)

"People only go to McDonalds, or any fast food chain for that matter, if they are in a hurry. That's what a fast food chain is for. People just don't seem to get that. Plus, if people do go to a fast food joint it's usually only a guilty pleasure."

"So is that the reason you're glaring at the projector?" Russia asked in amusement as a Taco Bell ad started to play.

"DEATH!" America shouted as he jumped out of his seat. He stormed over to the projector, picked it up, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it.

"DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!"America shouted with each stomp.

"GOD DAMMIT AMERICA, YOU'RE PAYING FOR THAT!" England roared as America stormed out of the room.

A/N: Yes, America hates McDonalds with a passion. It really is a disgusting place, (just my opinion), but damn they have some good fries. (It's my guilty pleasure to have their fries. Don't judge me.) But really, America really thinks McDonalds is disgusting. We even have a joke that if you drop out of high school you'll be forced to work at McDonalds for the rest of your life.