Canada was having a nice day, really. He had woken up and made himself pancakes which he devoured with Nazi-like ferociousness, then he had went for a stroll around the woods in the backyard without Kumawhatshisname to ask him for food and his name every two seconds, and, after that, he enjoyed a nice lunch out poutine. He felt as if nothing could make the day bad.
He spoke too soon, though.
With his luck, his southern neighbor America showed up at his door, banging on it in rapid repetition and almost hit him in the face when he opened it. "Whoa, sorry, dude," America immediately exclaimed, but then his face scrunched and he added, "Wait, no, I'm not. It's all your fault."
Canada blinked in surprise. "Huh," he voiced quietly. "What are you talking about?"
America scowled. "Of course you don't know," he said irritably. "But then, how can I know you're telling the truth? Why did I even come here, again?"
Um. Okay. The American didn't usually act like this and he was kind of freaking Canada out. "Uh… Why is it all my fault, America? What is my fault?"
The American rolled his eyes and did something the Canadian did not expect. He proceeded to tell an idiotic story. Okay, well, maybe it wasn't that out of the ordinary, but Canada's day was already ruined and it was getting worse. "Times have changed and kids are getting worse 'cause they don't obey their parents and just get fat and curse. We shouldn't blame the government or society or the media or anything; we should blame Canada because Canada is the fault."
Canada blinked in surprise. "What?"
"With their beady eyes and minds riddled with lies, an assault needs to be formed because it's all Canada's fault," America recited. Canada was really confused; what was going on? "For example, this kid Stan saw this dumb Canadian cartoon and went off to join the KKK; then, this other kid Eric used to, like, idolize his dad, but now he goes and tells him to f**k off. Everything has been wrong since Canada came along; like, seriously, they aren't even a real country." Okay. That one hurt. "This other kid could have been a doctor or lawyer, but now they're burnt up like a pig on a barbeque and we can't blame the matches or the fire or the doctor because, heck no, it's all Canada's fault!" All right. This wasn't even making sense anymore. "Plus, Canada has hockey." Hockey was an awesome sport! America played it, too, eh! "Shame on Canada for smut, trash, laughter and fun. They have to be blamed before somebody blames Americans."
After a moment of silence, Canada decided America must be high on something. Sighing, the younger pushed the older out of the house and closed the door. He locked it just to make sure the other couldn't get back in. "He's crazy," Canada muttered to himself.
Thinking about his ruined day, he sat down on his couch and looked at the polar bear on the coffee table (you know, exactly where he shouldn't have been). The bear lifted his head and looked back at his owner. "Who are you?" Canada just shook his head. "I'm hungry," was the reply.