Café America set to Swiss Stimulation
A Swiss Stimulation.
"I hate cafés like this."
Let's say you're Switzerland and one day you were compelled to eat out in a restaurant to spite those who were calling you stingy – and tightfisted – and a miser –and "penny-pinching," whatever that meant.
Now under normal circumstances you would be all against this fancy-shmancy idea of eating outside when there was perfectly good, economical food at your house. Plus, it was cheap. A way to save money for the bank. After all, you were a Swiss.
However, much to your horrible luck, you and Liechtenstein happened to bump into Austria who (recalling from your last meeting) treated you to lunch. Out of common courtesy, your little sibling decided to jump in and return the favor, thus warping you into this mess.
So there you were, strolling through town towing Liechtenstein away from Austria as you surveyed for a place to eat. Alright, think smart. You obviously don't want to cash out all your money on a five-star restaurant so Café France was a big no-no. But then again, you also didn't want to pay for Austria's medical and physiological therapies from eating English rubbish, so Café England was also a red flag. Reputations aside, you needed to find a cheap restaurant – and fast! From the corner of your vision, you can see Austria eyeing Café France right by Café Italy. Expensive!
Thankfully, you spot a great big red, white, and blue sign adorned with white stars and red maple leaves. The words CAFÉ AMERICA (& Canada) were bolded in the flashy, electric sign that was by far the showiest logo in the whole town. Opting out for France's les escargots, you lead the two countries inside without a second thought.
Your group was greeted in by America himself.
"Oh sweet! Hey Canada, look! We have our first customers!" the bubbly nation yelled back to his fellow North American neighbor.
"Really? That's wonderful. That is, I mean, it's only been three weeks…" came a quiet reply from the kitchen.
"I know right? This is gonna be totally awesome! I was getting worried no one would see the sign. Hahahaha!"
America was irritating as ever. You were having second thoughts about having lunch here – but it was too late to run now.
"Ahem," you initiated, interrupting the American's incessant laughter. "A table for three please."
"Yeah sure. Right this way dudes."
America led your company to the farthest side of the restaurant. As you were seated, you regarded the very colorful arrays of decoration and miscellaneous items in the walls. The room seemed to have been divided in two. One side was painted blue, the other was red.
On the blue side were posters of various sports teams, notably of baseball and American football. Not only that but countless memorabilia hung proudly on display. From a wide range of signed baseballs and bats, to footballs and team jerseys, everything America collected from his extensive fanatic years were brandished in any remaining space on his side of the room. There was even an old jukebox next to his Elvis Presley collection.
Canada's side was a bit tamer than America's in some aspect. It showcased more of a homey, cabin feeling with pictures of landscape and beavers. Lots and lots of beavers. Yeah, Canadians love their beavers. Surprisingly that's not the only thing they love. You can bet that there was a whole shrine dedicated to Canada's one and only love; hockey. Hockey sticks, hockey pucks, hockey players, hockey trophies, hockey players' teeth – dotted Canada's red background. He even had pictures with Gretzky and Crosby.
"So… what do you guys want to eat?" America interrupts with a big grin.
"How would we know if there isn't a menu!" both you and Austria erupt. Liechtenstein flinches at the sudden rise of your voice. You feel kind of bad. The atmosphere was tensed between you and the Austrian since you bumped into each other earlier.
"Whoa, chill bro. Me and Canada can whip up pretty much anything your hearts desire. Whaddaya want?"
Liechtenstein smiles like the polite, little country she is. "Cheese fondue, please."
"Yes, I'll have the too," you agree.
"Uh… yeah, we don't have that."
"But you just said-"
"Hahahaha! Sucker. I lied."
"Bastard. Fine, we'll order Älplermagronen."
"Sure thing! Now say it again in American."
As a Swiss you were tempted to pull out a gun out of your pocket – and was about to do just that when Liechtenstein grabbed your arm, sensing turbulence.
"We'll just order anything with cheese, Mr. America."
"Anything. With. Cheese…got it!" the American repeats jotting it down on paper.
"And I would like to order a Wiener Schnitzel, please," Austria says in his obnoxious, matter-of-a-fact voice.
"A whiner shitstill… alrighty! Drinks?"
Avoiding a guaranteed argument, you left it up to him to decide.
Ten minutes later, your annoying waiter comes back carrying the drinks. He was accompanied by Canada who was carrying several plates of food.
America sets down beer mugs in front of you, but the contents couldn't have been beer. It was bubbling and there was a big lump floating on top. You can't help wonder if the two North Americans inherited their culinary skills from England.
"What is this shit?"
"Not shit. It's an all-American root beer float. It's root beer with ice cream on top! Cool, huh?"
"No."
Austria and Liechtenstein were poking the thing floating on top of the fizzy beverage.
Canada sets his plates down on your table, barely fitting them all. "America wasn't very specific with your order so I kind of just improvised it. I hope you enjoy the meal."
You, Austria, and Liechtenstein twitched as you all gazed at food laid out in front of you. Some dishes, you could decipher; macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese sandwiches, a cheeseburger. Others were just…
"What is this?" Liechtenstein asks, pointing at an overly stuffed sandwich dripping with grease and god knows what else.
"That's a Philly Cheesesteak. It's pretty popular in ole Philadelphia. Try it!"
"A-And that?" you motion to the horrifying thing covered in sauce and... you don't know anymore!
"Poutine. Eh, b-basically it's just french fries with gravy and cheese. D-Don't be afraid of it," the Canadian stammers.
"Um, excuse me! Where is my food?" Austria chimes nervously.
"Oh yeah. Here it is!" America hands Austria an overly pampered hot dog.
"What? I did not order this!"
America looked crestfallen. "Yeah but I made it just like Wienerschnitzel's. You've gotta at least try it. It's supposed to be like, 'The World's Most Wanted Wiener!'"
"No! I am not standing up for that abomination you call a Wiener Schnitzel. My Wiener Schnitzel is a true Austrian cuisine!"
America was shoving the hotdog in Austria's face now. "Aw c'mon dude! You know you want this Wiener in your mouth!"
…
Well that could've been a lot creepier.
Thirty minutes and six plates later, you were itching to get out of CAFÉ AMERICA (& Canada). During the whole time, the two decided to stay and "chat." America was the loudest in the group, going on and on about sports teams and recommending other dishes that for you, as a European nation, did not sound appealing at all. As for Canada, he would politely refill your glasses from time to time even if you didn't request for him to do so. Occasionally, he would also offer tissues, utensils, and all sorts of things you didn't even need.
It wasn't after you paid the bill, that you realized the reason for their "friendly services."
As you stood up from the table, the North Americans cleared their throats and grinned anxiously.
You decided to ignore it and ushered Austria and Liechtenstein out the door. You were about to follow out when America literally slammed the door close. You saw Canada double lock the door, bolting it shut. An eerie silence permeated the room. The temperature seemed to drop. America and Canada turned back to you, both with a peculiar smile plastered on their faces.
"W-What's the meaning of this?" you demand, subconsciously positioning into a defensive stance.
The two started to giggle then they burst into maniacal laughter.
And then they stopped. And looked at you again.
"Tips."
"Pardon?"
"Our tips bro. Where's our tip?"
"Tips?" The word was so foreign to you.
"Yeah, eh? 15 to 20% of the bill is our tip. It's common tipping etiquette, hoser."
"Why did you think we were so friendly, providing you excellent service?" America snorts.
Wait a minute.
These two were actually expecting extra money from you. Ha! As If.
"I refuse to give a tip, excellent service or not. I came and paid for the food, and that's all I'm spending money for," you say standing up for your proud Swiss morals.
"Grab him, America!"
"Gotcha!"
America grabbed hold of your arms from behind, as Canada fiddled around with your beloved wallet.
You were tossed right out of the café like a sack of flour, your wallet (now empty) following behind.
The American and the Canadian were smiling down at you waving cheerfully behind the glass window.
"Come again soon! And recommend us to your friends!" they said in unison.
"I hate cafés like this."
Author's Notes:
1. This was a parody of Himaruya's Country Café and German Stimulation sketches. This is suppose to be set in format to 'German Stimulation' so in a way, it's just an idea of portraying Switzerland's point of view. All in good fun. With that being said, you all know I don't own Hetalia or the characters, or the Wienerschitzel logo.
2. There are some tips to be learnt from this parody by the way. In America, you are expected to leave a 15-20% tips when you're eating at a restaurant. I understand that's not the case in Europe, so when tourists come to America, waiters are really touchy when they don't get their tips from Europeans. In turn, the next time you come visit their restaurant, they won't be as "friendly" as before. Yeah, it sucks, but I suppose that's just the way it works.
3. I may or may not be accepting requests to write another Country Café fic. Hmmm... it all the depends on the nation and what material (ahem, stereotype) I can find for that specific country.