A/N: This is something I wrote a couple months ago for a competition one time. I know it's not that good...but I was going to upload it sometime anyway, so I though, "Why not just do it now?". I know there are some (a lot of) typos...I might come back and edit them later. All reviews are welcome. :)

~SIBY

It was a day none of the countries would forget.

This wasn't just some typical mainstream kind of food festival – no, it was a full – blown, over the top, international food festival, that of course, was being held by…

America.

...

Your Presence Is Requested

July 4, 2012

Washington, D.C.

To Celebrate the 236th Birthday of

The United States of America

An International Food Festival

Be There

England squinted at the letter. The official looking package had arrived at his door this morning, with no return address or any information that gave a hint that it could be for America's birthday.

If it had, the small box would have been at the bottom of his trashcan a few hours ago.

However, upon opening the package, a plain envelope (with his name printed on it) and a stiff piece of paper had slipped out.

How strange, England had thought to himself. What the hell is this supposed to mean?

Obviously, none of it had reminded him at all of America. There were no signs of the annoying stars and stripes, and no sign of red, white, and blue.

England, being the gentleman he was, had read through the letter first – and boy, did it surprise him.

America always had some kind of excessively large birthday party, and even if he had never attended them (why would he, anyway?), he always heard how extravagant they were.

But, a food festival? What kind of party did America have in mind? Were the planned activities to eat, eat, and eat some more (not that England expected much else from America)?

England picked up his house phone. As if he was going to attend America's silly birthday party.

"Whazzzzuuuuupppp?" America's annoying voice was already giving England a migraine.

"Be quiet, you git. I'm calling you to say – "

"Woah, England dude, you're coming to the party, right?"

England groaned. Why was America always so annoying? "No, I do not plan on coming to your stupid little party. Good da – "

"What?" America said, suddenly quiet, "You…You're not…coming?"

"No! I already said that – you should listen more. Ugh, what did I expect from you – "

"But…I was really hoping that you could come this year. I mean, I know it's not really you're favorite year…but you're the one person I've always wanted to come to all of my parties…and, actually, without you…well, you're, like, the life of the party, you know?"

England was surprised. America actually sounded genuinely disappointed. He hesitated. But still.

"No, I refuse to attend! Now goodbye!"

England slammed the phone back down for dramatic affect. "That bloody arse. So annoying – "

"Hey, England, you okay? You still there?"

"What the hell? Did I – "

Oh. In the midst of being dramatic, he had forgotten to hang up. "I'm not coming!" England shouted into the phone. With that, he pressed the OFF button and went to finish his tea (which by now was getting cold).

…

Hello, China!

Thank you, in advance, for deciding to come to my party, a party fit for a hero!

Instructions, Regulations, and Guidelines for the International Food Day:

1) You will be assigned one stand, and one stand only. In your case, you will have a larger stand to include food from Hong Kong and Macau.

2) Make your food in Washington, D.C. Bring as much equipment and ingredients as you need. I will have the following already prepared: eggs, milk, American cheese, white bread, fruits, vegetables, butter.../i

The list went on for a while, including some foods China didn't recognize.

3) Your time to cook and serve food at a stand is the third shift (there are four shifts in total).

4) You can eat all you want as long as you are not working/cooking.

This will be easy, aru! China thought, Everyone loves my food anyway!

And so China collected all the supplies he would need and gathered Hong Kong and Macau (Taiwan insisted she would go herself), who both had read through the letters and rules that had been sent to them, so they could be on their way to America.

…

"Big brother! Big brother! Don't you want to come and try my draniki*? I made it just for you…"

"The best spices of Hungary! Try my soups, and when you're done, you can go try Austria's coffee and cakes…"

"The only coffee I have right now is Viennese mélange**. Come back later for more…"

America's birthday party was well on its way. Countries wandered around, trying each other's foods.

"It's perfect, isn't it?" America said while sitting next to Canada. "I'm so multicultural!"

"Yeah, I guess so," Canada said quietly, "but I think I'm also kind of like that – "

"Hey, Canada! Where'd you go, bro! I lost him again! Oh yeah, I was going to go try some of his maple syrup…"

"I'm right here, America!"

"Did someone say something? Better go find Canada."

Canada sighed as Kumajiro asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Canadia."

…

"Everyone knows my food is better than yours!" Turkey's shout echoed through the streets of Washington D.C.

"Be quiet. Everyone knows that my food is better than yours."

"No! That's it! I challenge you to a food competition! And I'm going to win!"

"Fine," Greece yawned before continuing, "a food contest it is. Hey Japan, will you taste our food and tell us who's is better? Even though…we all know mine is better?"

The Asian nation strode over to the two stands where a large crowd was growing. "I really think that we can talk this out and solve it without having to fight about it…"

"No! He thinks his food better, when obviously mine is!" Turkey complained. Greece glared at him.

Japan sighed. "This is not going to end well."

…

"Wow, China, you've certainly got a variety of food here! Not that I expected anything less, of course," exclaimed Seychelles when she looked at China's stand. Tables were covered with fried rice, noodles, chicken, Peking Duck, dumplings and an endless selection of soups. Hong Kong's table had a huge assortment of Dim Sum, and Macau's had many different dishes with spices and meats that included a few Portugese foods. "I don't know what I should try first!"

"Try the Chow Mein first, da – ze!" someone said behind her, "It even originated in Korea, da – ze! In fact, all of this originated in Korea, da – ze!"

"Don't you have your own food to cook, aru? And stop saying that! My food is not from Korea, aru!" China scolded the younger nation.

"Oh, don't be so mad, brother! Here, have some kimchi!"

Korea suddenly pulled out a bowl of kimchi and placed it in China's hands. "It's delicious, da – ze!"

…

"We'll start with the meze," Greece said, setting out an assortment of small plates with fava beans, olives, cheeses, and garlic – bread. Turkey set out plates with cheese, calamari, acılı ezme, and köfte.

After Japan ate a bit of those, he was given moussaka from Greece and shish kebabs from Turkey. This was quickly followed by loukoumades from Greece and Turkish delight and kadaif from Turkey. As Japan ate the desserts, he pondered on how he should assess and respond to his situation. He did not want to lose Greece or Turkey as a friend, they were both great, but how would he decide who should win? Before he could decide what to do, he heard angry voices arguing.

"Shut up! My food is better!" Turkey kept on yelling at Greece.

"No, mine is better – "

"Hey, Japan! Have you decided who's better yet?"

Oh, no. Japan did not want to be put on the spot like this…

"Japan likes my cooking better," Greece said before Japan could speak up.

"Let him talk!" Turkey shot back. "He likes mine better!" Turkey and Greece both seemed to be getting pretty upset at each other, and Japan was worried about the outcome of this.

Of course, what else than a food fight would begin? Turkey and Greece were both flinging different kinds of food, cheese, spices, sauces, etc. at each other in a matter of 3 minutes.

All Japan could do was try to maneuver his way out of the crowd and apologize for all of the trouble.

…

"Ve~You're not supposed to eat that!" Italy exclaimed when he saw Romano grumpily munching on a tomato. "Our food is for the other countries, not us!"

"Whatever."

"Ve~I'm hungry."

"So eat some of the damn food! It's the fifth time you said that. So fucking annoying…" Romano grumbled.

"Can I go get some food?"

"If it means you're leaving, then yes. See ya."

Itlay pranced away, but unfortunately he was quickly replaced by another overly happy country. "Hello, Romano! I've come all this way to check up on you, so can I try some of this delicious looking manicotti? Oh, and look, I also brought some paella and churros for you and your cute little brother!" Spain said. Romano didn't understand how anyone could be so cheerful and stupid all the time.

"No. And you're stand is right next to this one, so shut up about "coming all this way". And you can't even any of my food. Now fuck off, you bastard."

"Oh come on, don't be so mean…"

Romano continued onto his next tomato and tuned out the annoyingly cheerful voice. He looked past Spain, which he probably shouldn't have done, because all he saw was Belarus chasing after a frightened Russia saying, "Marry me, big brother! Marry me! Marry me!" while Ukraine attempted to stop her by giving her a bowl of borscht and bread. An intoxicated France was chasing after Austria for a reason Romano didn't want to know, and of course his stupid brother had gotten into trouble with the potato bastard and Switzerland (who threatened he would kill Italy until he was dead) for stealing wurst and chocolate.

Romano sighed.

He should have just stayed at home.

…

France was thoroughly enjoying himself at America's festival when he sensed the presence of bad food.

In fact, there was England, briskly setting up his own stand and setting out disgusting looking plates of burnt scones and unappealing meat pies, which were just ugly in his opinion.

"Britain! Had I known you were coming, I would have been on the other side of this city! America should have warned that you would be bringing your awful food, if that can even be considered food! Nobody will eat it!" France called over to England.

England simply glared. "Go away, frog. And he doesn't even know I'm here – "

"Dude, you came!" America cried out with delight. England sighed. This was a huge mistake.

"Yes, I did. Now both of you go away."

"Britain, you must learn that appearance is everything in food. If it doesn't look wonderful, then it will taste terrible."

"Hey everyone! England's here!" At that, most of the other countries coiled away in fear of bad cooking.

"Honhonhon! I told you nobody wants your food!"

"I said go away, frog!" England screamed at France. He pointed at America, "You, too. Leave now."

"Well, that wasn't a very kind thing to say to the birthday boy, now was it?" France said. Still, he backed away.

…

By the time all the nations had headed home, roughly 75% of them were drunk, due there being an extreme amount of alcoholic beverages. There were also a lot o leftovers that America insisted on keeping (most of these were leftover fish from the Nordics and Japan, and all of England's food). Many countries celebrated on having all of their food eaten, like Belgium's chocolate, Russia's pirozhki (although that was eaten because most of the countries were afraid of him), and Switzerland's cheese fondue (or rather, Liechtenstein celebrated while Switzerland threatened everyone with his guns if they didn't pull themselves together).

The Baltics were sure they had each gained at least 10 more pounds, Japan was worried his healthy eating habits had been disturbed, and Egypt, Romania, and Bulgaria were still cleaning the remnants of Turkey and Greece's food fight off of their clothes.

Overall, most of the countries would describe this International Food Festival as "interesting and unforgettable", which to America meant totally successful and "awesome" in Prussia's words.

…

When Cuba heard the entire story recounted to him by Canada, he was completely confident and glad he had made the decision of not attending America's birthday celebration.