The northern nation marched up to the man in rolled up jeans and a white t-shirt. He growled, pissed at the man. He had NOT had the best of nights, and he was going to get to the bottom of it, "Mexico!"
"Si, Senior~?"
America kind of flinched at the creepy voice. He stared at the man in front of him, wearing a sombrero with an uber amazing mustache. He had a look to him that was just over all creepy. Not Russia creepy, but a pedophile creepy. Like a France aura but more sinister. America never really liked Mexico, but shook it off.
"What the hell is this?"
He pulled out his iPhone.
"Es un telefono, mi amigo."
Even though America knew what that meant he requested Mexico stop speaking Spanish, por favor.
"Si. What is the matter?
"What is THIS thing that decided to attack Texas last night? Also meaning, attacking my FACE?"
America played a video for the man as he tilted his sombrero back and watched as a man talked about his experience shooting a 'chupacabra'. He used a stick to hold up a dead, gray, over sized Chihuahua looking creature.
Mexico looked at America's slightly scratched up face. The chupacabra must have been in Texas, since he had scratches around his cheekbones and one on his eyebrow. He held a snicker at the image of America being jumped by his beast, and he leaned against his hoe and smirked underneath his glorious mustache, a devious look in his eye as he watched the American.
"Dammit, Mexico! Stop letting creepy shit into my house!"