Vhy is he always late? Every freaking day...training is at 6:30 und it doesn't change. The tall blonde man shook his head, stomping down the hall. Once again his compatriot missed the morning roll call. Just vonce I'd like him to be all "Hey Germany it's-a me Italy. And look, I'm-a early!" He swung open the door "Ok, time to get up." Causally he walked to over to his friends bed and sat in the chair beside it. "Italy? Vake up, it's 7:00." A scowl spread on his face. "Get your ass out of zat bed or so help me I will send you to Britain's house for dinner!"

"Please don't do that Germany, I will be a good boy I-a promise". Italy, a thin brunette man, rolled over in his bed to face his superior.

"Are you going to give me a lame excuse for your tardiness?"

"Yes...no I mean 'no.' Well it's a reason but not an excuse." The way Germany looked at him in the mornings always scared Italy...to be more exact Germany always scared Italy but the mornings were even more terrifying for some reason. "It might-a sound like an excuse, most reasons do, but it's the truth. A truthful excuse, not a lie filled excuse."

"SHUT UP!" The blonde sighed, rubbing his temples. "Just shut up. Meine gute, don't you have off button?"

"I don't-a know what you mean."

"Tell me vhy you vere late...again."

"It's-a my foot." Italy pulled the covers up to his face. "You see I was at-a big brother France's house bouncing on his new trampoline. It's-a really nice and bouncy. But I wanted to go-a higher so big brother France said 'we bouncie to together and go really high' so we did...and then I fell...and I broke my foot." He frowned.

"This vas yesterday?"

"No...last week."

"Und you just got home last night?"

"Well big brother France got-a scared, and very pale for some reason, and said he didn't know what-a to do. So we go to Britain's house, but he didn't want that 'Francy pants' in his house because of some sort of marriage proposal...I still don't know what-a he means by that...so Britain called America but he was to busy to-a come over. So they just put me in a crate and send me home."

"Zey just pack you up in a crate?!"

"Well they gave me some water and some soggy, green bread. It-a didn't taste that good...and the fuzzy tickled my nose." Italy smiled.

"Did zey at least properly wrap your foot?"

"With the bread?"

Germany sighed loudly. "No, with a bandage."

"Why would they give me a bandage?"

"For your foot..." The blonde paused, grumbling to himself. "Vhy do I even bother? You can't follow simple phrases or ideas." The pair exhanced confused glances and he continued. "Let me see your foot."

"No."

"No?!"

"You're going to-a touch it, and that makes more owies." Italy pulled the covers up to his nose, so that only his eyes were showing.

"I'm not going to touch it...or make a ze 'owies'."

"Promise?"

"DAMNIT ITALY JUST SHOW ME YOUR FOOT!"

Reluctantly the shaking young man popped his foot out for his friend to see. For the most part it looked normal, just like his other foot, but it had a large dark purple bruise along the side. "It's awful isn't it?" Italy cringed at the sight of it, certain it was mangled beyond recognition and needing to be amputated. "I'm-a get gangrene and die."

"That's it? A puny little bruise?" Germany sighed. "And here you had me thinking it was something more serious."

"It is-a serious!"

"I've seen worse injuries at the fuhrer's lawn party." The large man paused before standing. "Zere should be some bandages in the bathroom. Let me go get zem so I can wrap that foot of yours."

"Will it make the owies go away?"

"Probably not. If anything it will make ze 'owies' worse." Italy cringed at Germany's words. "But it's ze only way to make it better."

"If you say so Germany." He looks away with an expression of fear on his face. "You wouldn't tell me to do something that would hurt me."

"You give me to much credit."

While searching for something to wrap his comrades foot Germany remembers that he let his other comrade Japan borrow it just a few weeks ago. Already exhausted from dealing with Italy, Germany decides it would just be better to go buy a new on instead of trying to get his back from Japan. "That guy is such a pain to deal vith."

He heads to the supermarket just down the street thinking it shouldn't take longer then a few minutes. "Hey Germany!" A familiar voice called from behind him. "What are you doing here dude?!"

This guy? Vhy do I have such good luck. "America! Small vorld, yes? Running into you while shopping."

"Yea man. I was just stopping bye to pick up some hamburger patties for the Fourth of July picnic. It's gonna be siiiccck!"

"I can only imagine." Poor Germany. He tried to slink away, but he couldn't evade the watchfull eye of America.

"What are you doing to celebrate?"

"I don't celebrate it."

"Well why the hell not!" the young mans voice was rising. "It's an important day!"

"For you perhaps. But not for everyvne." Germany turned and looked away. "Does Britain celebrate with you? I think not."

America's expression dropped and his eyes began to well with tears. "Germany why do you have to be such a douche!" He turned and ran.

With an exasperated sigh Germany continued his search for bandages. After what seemed like an eternity, and several awkward conversations with Russia, China and Lithuania, he finally was able to go back home. "Italy, I am back."

"Germany? GERMANY!" Italy called, panicstricken. "Are you-a alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, why wouldn't I be." He rounded the corner and was surprised to see Italy laying on the floor in the hall. "Was vom teufel?! How'd you get out here?!" The large blonde ran to his friends side and picked him up, cradling the smaller boy in his arms.

"You said that you were-a getting me bandages from-a the bathroom. So I was like 'Oh that Germany is so nice to me. I hope he doesn't take-a to long.' But then you did take-a to long. And I thought 'Oh no! What happened to my good friend Germany? Did he get-a lost?!' But then I thought no, you wouldn't get-a lost in your own house. How silly of me. But if you didn't get-a lost then what happened. So I thought of the only logical explination."

"And that is vhat?" Once back in the bedroom he laid Italy on his bed.

"Toilet monster."

"Come again?"

"You got eaten by a toilet monster. It came-a right out of the toilet and swallowed you whole! So I said-a to myself, I said 'Italy you have-a to save him! This is Germany we are-a talking about. He'd do the same-a for you.' So I jumped out of bed and ran down the hall."

"You made it five feet."

"The owies were to much for me."