International House of Freedom [2/?]
anonymous
July 13 2009, 21:38:22 UTC
“If it’s ‘international’, then why the hell have I never heard of it…” Arthur grumbled into the phone and told the younger nation where he would be staying.
Alfred chose to ignore Arthur’s snide remark. “Great, then I’ll see you in five!” Before Arthur had any chance to say anything else, Alfred had already hung up. The older nation had no choice but to go to his suitcase and pick out something that looked relatively decent.
Once he finished dressing in a crisp shirt, dress pants and shoes and a sweatervest, he only had to wait half an hour to see America driving up in his brand new Chrysler 300, rap music blaring from the inside of the car. “Get in, let’s go!” Alfred was obviously in a hurry to get to the restaurant. Grumbling again at the younger nation hurrying him along, he sat in the passenger’s seat. It wasn’t even a second after Arthur closed the door - he didn’t even wait for him to get his seatbelt on - that Alfred began to floor it back onto the highway.
“Calm the fuck down!” Arthur screamed at the irresponsible driver. “You’re going to get us both into an accident at this rate!”
“Relax,” Alfred cooed at him as he did 70 in the fast lane. “Nothing’s gonna happen to us.”
Arthur, being a very careful driver, was afraid out of his mind. Not only was Alfred driving way over the speed limit, he was also cutting people off left and right - which he thought could be amended by holding up his right hand each time as if to apologize. This caused the other drivers to honk like maniacs at the silver Chrysler. Arthur was beginning to become irritated. How long had they been driving on this road, anyway? It seemed like ages. He turned to the young man in the front seat, who was singing along to another song at the top of his lungs.
“One, two, three four - uno, do’, tres, cuatro. You know you want me~ You know I wantcha~” Alfred danced and counted in the car as he sang.
Arthur couldn’t believe this. “Can you pay attention to the bloody road?! Do you even know where you’re going, you bumbling idiot?” He tried to shout over the music, which almost drowned him out.
“Sure I do! I think we’re almost there, actually…” It was evident by Alfred’s tone of voice that he had no idea where they were going at all.
Arthur’s patience was about to run out. They had to have been on the road for at least three hours, and the only things he seemed to be noticing on the road anymore were places to eat. Taco Bell, Applebee’s, Wendy’s…he luckily spotted a gas station. His stomach grumbled noisily - not that Alfred would hear him over Fergie, who was now claiming that she was so three thousand and eight, but they were so two thousand and late. “Can you pull over there, please? For the love of God…,” he shouted again over the pounding music.
“No way! I know exactly where we’re going….I think…” Alfred grinned like their being lost wasn’t a big deal or wasting gas at all.
This reaction of Alfred’s sent Arthur over the edge. “Will you pull over at the sodding McDonald’s, then?! I’m fucking hungry!”
Alfred’s eyes lit up - that was a great idea, as he was always in the mood for McDonald’s. He pulled into the parking lot - not without cutting a few more people off and holding his hand up before that, of course, and drove into a space.
International House of Freedom [3/?]
anonymous
July 13 2009, 21:41:44 UTC
Upon entering the McDonald’s, they encountered three familiar faces at the register. One of them was very tall and seemed to be scaring the poor cashier, while the medium sized man was waving his hands and attempting to apologize and scold the shortest one at the same time, who was jumping and shouting angrily at the cashier. “What do you mean, you don’t have Big Mac sauce?! It’s not a Big Mac without the sauce, it’s just two hamburgers with toppings!” It was Arthur’s little brother Peter, standing there with his guardians, Berwald and Tino.
Berwald continued to loom at the cashier and Peter continued to shout while Tino, who turned towards the door when Alfred and Arthur walked through it, hoping to cause a diversion, waved at them. “Hello, you two.”
Peter looked in the direction where Tino was facing - Alfred! He was always eating burgers, HE must be the cause of all this trouble! He stomped over to Alfred - purposely walking right past Arthur, as he was a JERK - and poked him in the stomach, as that was where his hand could reach. “You! This is all your fault!”
“My fault? What is?” Alfred raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure WHAT Peter was going on about.
“You ate all the Big Mac sauce because you’re here all the time and now I want a Big Mac and they don’t have any sauce and it’s ALL YOUR FAULT.” Peter furrowed his giant eyebrows at Alfred, still poking him in the stomach.
“…okay then, well then there’s no reason for me to be here, then!” Alfred grabbed Arthur’s elbow. “What sense is there to be at McDonald’s if I can’t get a Big Mac? Let’s go find somewhere else!” With that, he began to pull a protesting Arthur out the door.
Alfred chose to ignore Arthur’s snide remark. “Great, then I’ll see you in five!” Before Arthur had any chance to say anything else, Alfred had already hung up. The older nation had no choice but to go to his suitcase and pick out something that looked relatively decent.
Once he finished dressing in a crisp shirt, dress pants and shoes and a sweatervest, he only had to wait half an hour to see America driving up in his brand new Chrysler 300, rap music blaring from the inside of the car. “Get in, let’s go!” Alfred was obviously in a hurry to get to the restaurant. Grumbling again at the younger nation hurrying him along, he sat in the passenger’s seat. It wasn’t even a second after Arthur closed the door - he didn’t even wait for him to get his seatbelt on - that Alfred began to floor it back onto the highway.
“Calm the fuck down!” Arthur screamed at the irresponsible driver. “You’re going to get us both into an accident at this rate!”
“Relax,” Alfred cooed at him as he did 70 in the fast lane. “Nothing’s gonna happen to us.”
Arthur, being a very careful driver, was afraid out of his mind. Not only was Alfred driving way over the speed limit, he was also cutting people off left and right - which he thought could be amended by holding up his right hand each time as if to apologize. This caused the other drivers to honk like maniacs at the silver Chrysler. Arthur was beginning to become irritated. How long had they been driving on this road, anyway? It seemed like ages. He turned to the young man in the front seat, who was singing along to another song at the top of his lungs.
“One, two, three four - uno, do’, tres, cuatro. You know you want me~ You know I wantcha~” Alfred danced and counted in the car as he sang.
Arthur couldn’t believe this. “Can you pay attention to the bloody road?! Do you even know where you’re going, you bumbling idiot?” He tried to shout over the music, which almost drowned him out.
“Sure I do! I think we’re almost there, actually…” It was evident by Alfred’s tone of voice that he had no idea where they were going at all.
Arthur’s patience was about to run out. They had to have been on the road for at least three hours, and the only things he seemed to be noticing on the road anymore were places to eat. Taco Bell, Applebee’s, Wendy’s…he luckily spotted a gas station. His stomach grumbled noisily - not that Alfred would hear him over Fergie, who was now claiming that she was so three thousand and eight, but they were so two thousand and late. “Can you pull over there, please? For the love of God…,” he shouted again over the pounding music.
“No way! I know exactly where we’re going….I think…” Alfred grinned like their being lost wasn’t a big deal or wasting gas at all.
This reaction of Alfred’s sent Arthur over the edge. “Will you pull over at the sodding McDonald’s, then?! I’m fucking hungry!”
Alfred’s eyes lit up - that was a great idea, as he was always in the mood for McDonald’s. He pulled into the parking lot - not without cutting a few more people off and holding his hand up before that, of course, and drove into a space.
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“What do you mean, you don’t have Big Mac sauce?! It’s not a Big Mac without the sauce, it’s just two hamburgers with toppings!” It was Arthur’s little brother Peter, standing there with his guardians, Berwald and Tino.
Berwald continued to loom at the cashier and Peter continued to shout while Tino, who turned towards the door when Alfred and Arthur walked through it, hoping to cause a diversion, waved at them. “Hello, you two.”
Peter looked in the direction where Tino was facing - Alfred! He was always eating burgers, HE must be the cause of all this trouble! He stomped over to Alfred - purposely walking right past Arthur, as he was a JERK - and poked him in the stomach, as that was where his hand could reach. “You! This is all your fault!”
“My fault? What is?” Alfred raised an eyebrow, not exactly sure WHAT Peter was going on about.
“You ate all the Big Mac sauce because you’re here all the time and now I want a Big Mac and they don’t have any sauce and it’s ALL YOUR FAULT.” Peter furrowed his giant eyebrows at Alfred, still poking him in the stomach.
“…okay then, well then there’s no reason for me to be here, then!” Alfred grabbed Arthur’s elbow. “What sense is there to be at McDonald’s if I can’t get a Big Mac? Let’s go find somewhere else!” With that, he began to pull a protesting Arthur out the door.
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”
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