"Ludwig, brah, what's the matter? You look like Arthur after he starts drinking." Alfred's sky blue eyes shown with concern for his german counter part.

"You shut your mouth, twit! I can hold my liquor just as good as you can, if not better!" Arthur looked at Alfred, projecting all the ferocity he could muster, it was wasted however, due to the fact that it is extremely hard to look threatening while embroidering a flower on a handkerchief.

"Excuse moi, but I thought this meeting was supposed to be about monisuer grouchy-pants and his problem? I want to 'ear what is making the potato eating muscle boy so upset. Ohonhonhonhon." Francis sat leisurely in his chair, and chuckled as he brought his glass of wine to his lips.

"Um, dude, why are you laughing?" Alfred sat, looking bewildered at the giggling frenchman.

"I am French, I find everyone's pain funny but my own, no?"

"Damn narcissistic frog!" Arthur stood so violently he knocked his chair backwards.

"Aw look, if it isn't the English punk." Francis was standing now as well, and was glaring murderously at England, who in return shot daggers back.

"Do you want to fight, Frenchie?"

"I thought you would never ask!" Francis then pulled a baguette seemingly out of thin air and began to wave it around like a maniac. Arthur, caught without a weapon grabbed a silver serving tray out from under a pitcher of water and proceeded to block Francis's baguette blows.

"You Froggy bastard, only a frenchman would hit someone with bread!"

"Oh, yah mister superior? Well,"

"ENOUUUGGGGGHHHHHH! I THOUGHT VE VERE HERE TO DISCUSS MEIN PROBLEM, NOT TO KILL EACH OTHER VITH CARBOHYDRATES!" Ludwig had been sitting quietly during the proceedings of the meeting, but had been pushed to his limit. His short temper combined with the fact he was not feeling well had caused his angry outburst. "Now if do you vant to hear about mein problem? Or just skirt around the issue, und not get to the reason ve called this meeting in the first place?"

"You're quite right old chap." England was once again sitting and, with teacup in hand, was the image of a perfect gentle man. Despite having just been in a bread battle to the death. "What exactly is your big problem?"

Ludwig sighed. "Vell, a part of me has seceded..."

Francis jumped in, and with a glint in his eye asked, "Was is one of your... lower regions?" This question was met with a head lock from Ludwig until he begged for mercy.

Settling in his chair once again, Ludwig continued, "A part of me has seceded und is now calling themselves The Holy Roman Empire. Is *SLUUURRRRPPPP* und *SSSSLLLLLLUUUUUUUUURRRRPPPP* ve *SSSSSSSSSSLLLLLLLLLLLUUUUUUU UUUUUURRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP*

"Alfred! Will you stop that excessive slurping? It's driving me mad." In the heat of the battle between Arthur and Francis, Alfred had gotten a bag of pop corn, a 32 ounce milk shake, and had settled down to watch the show.

"I'm hungry ok? I ate all my hamburgers at the beginning of the meeting. What's for lunch?"

"Ret me check Alfred-san!" Kiku had been writing in the black book he carried around with him, only looking up when Alfred was talking, in case he needed to agree with him. "It says here that we wir be having pasta."

Suddenly, some one at the end of the table sat up. He had, miraculously, been sleeping through the whole meeting. But Kiku had said the magic word..."PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAA AASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTT TTTTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"