Music, Drabbles, and Short Stories

[D/FF] It Can't be That bad! { America | Alfred F. Jones }

                               { :  I t    c a n ' t     b e    t h a t     b a d : }

                                             A l f r e d   F.   J o n e s

                                                       © iiCloudz-x

You can't cook. This is a well-known and never tested fact acknowledged by your fellow nations, friends, and family. Even so, he didn't seem to get the picture.

"Come [Name]! I'm starving~" the young nation whined, slamming his fork and knife on the tables surface.

You sighed at the blond male, "Alfred, for the last time no," you studied his disappointed face but shook your head, "you might as well ask Arthur to cook for you." You mumbled the last part truthfully.

Yes, you were as bad the Arthur Kirkland.

"Just one hamburger [Name]?~" He crooked his neck and began to give you the puppy dog eyes.

-+-

"Oh my god Al, are you okay?" you asked shocked at what just happen.

The nurses began to roll Alfred into the ambulance.

"..[N-n..ame].." He moaned out, clutching his stomach in pain, "I-it hurts"

You followed him into the ambulance.

"E-Everything is gonna be alright Al, I'm right next to you" You whispered grabbing his hand.

He turned and faced you , eyes shinning

"O-okaBLERGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH" He began to vomit on the side of the emergency stretcher.

After being in the ambulance for several minutes (the driver sped thanks to the awful smell) the doctors  rushed him into the emergency room.

You waited outside, pacing back and fourth.

Not even a minute passed by until a doctor exited the room.

You quickly rushed to him.

"How is he? Is he going to be okay? Is he dead?" 

The doctor removed his surgical mask and put up a hand up, asking you to calm down.

"Ma'am, on a scale of one through ten how bad is your cooking?"

"Wh-what?" 

"Ma'am. If he's going to die, you need to let me know, because I just can't deal with that crap today."

 { : W o r d   C o u n t : 300 : }