Dear fanfictioners, I hope you enjoy this Little fic. This fic takes place in Spain. Let's just pretend there's a world conference being held in Madrid, okay? I borrowed (with permission) the whole Spain's Axe=Maria thing from Bela Rose Wolf. Also, I am sincerely apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes. I am but a stupid American that knows not of grammar laws. *sarcasm* Please review. (But I don't really care if you don't; I'm not much of a reviewer myself.) Flames will be used to boil water for pasta.

Warnings: None except for the use of Country and Human names.

Pairings: Only if you squint really, really hard. Even then, there's not much there.

Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in this fic except for the plot.

P.S. For all you Spamano fans... no. This is not random fluff. Sorry for any misunderstandings, but this is purely humor. **Please read anyway?

It was a beautiful day. The sky was clear, there was a light breeze, and the birds were-

"God damn that stupid bastard!"

-flying away at rapid speeds.

"Why did Fratello want me to give tomato bastard his stupid gift? I don't even like him! And it's not like it's his birthday or something. He's probably using this as an excuse to get me out of the hotel room. He better not be having Potato Bastard over. DAMN IT! That's probably exactly what he's doing! I swear, if Potato Bastard fucking touches him, I'll-"

The following words have been censored due to the explicit graphic (and mostly illegal) activities mentioned.

"-And I didn't want to come here anyway! I was going to stay at home, eat some tomatoes, and maybe yell at Fratello if he was being really stupid. But no! I had to leave the comfy hotel room and go to Tomato Bastard's house. I don't even like the Spanish idiot! No matter what he or Feli think! Spain is probably going to take this the wrong way! Like the present was from me or I was making an excuse to see him. I'm not! I had no choice!"

The angry Italian continued to rant all the way to 'Tomato Bastard's' house. He was so into his rant that he didn't realize he had reached Spain's home until his face collided with the door. This made him even more pissed off than he already was. He angrily knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked louder. Still no answer. Romano continued knocking. The knocks became louder and more rapid without his realizing it. What if something's wrong? Romano thought worriedly. What if he's hur- No! I don't care! Why should I? I don't!

Finally, he decided to open the door himself. He crouched down, picked up a garden gnome, and took the key that was under it. Why the Hell didn't he change where he kept his spare key? Doesn't he know how dangerous that- Nope! Don't care! He placed the gnome back in its original position. Then he got up and turned the key in the lock. He slowly opened the door. As he entered, he noticed an eerie aura that surrounded him. Damn it. This feels like one of those 'scary' movies Hamburger Bastard's always talking about. Why do I feel so afraid, like when Vodka Bastard is around? It's only stupid Antonio's house. I don't like this…

As he stepped further into the normally cheery house, he noticed something else that was strange. The house was silent. This did nothing help Romano's feeling of unease. You may be wondering why Romano is so unsettled by this fact. That is because Spain's house is never even quite, let alone silent. Between music, Spanish soap operas and football on TV, and random phone calls (usually from Francis and Gilbert), there was always background noise.

What the Hell is going on? There's always noise here, even when the bastard's not home. Idiot, that's such a waste of electricity. His electric bill is probably so high, Romano thought as he walked further into the house. I know he's here his car is outside. Where can he be? As he continued on, he noticed a weird sound.

Swish, swish, swish…

What the fuck is that? The Italian wondered. He walked toward the kitchen, where the sound was coming from.

He entered to find Spain facing away from him. "Hey, Idiot! Feliciano wanted me to give you this-"Romano stopped mid-sentence when he saw Spain lift a huge double-sided battle axe over his head. And if that wasn't bad enough, there was a red-tinted liquid dripping from said axe. Romano was scared still.

When he was able to shake off his terror, he ran forward screaming, "You sick bastard! What the Hell are you doing? Why would you kill someone? Stupid Bastard!" Spain turned around to face Romano; there was a slight glint in his eye that Romano didn't like.

"Hola, Lovi~ Por qué estás en mi casa?" Spain asked creepily.

"How the Hell are you so calm?" Romano yelled.

"What do mean? Of course I'm calm; I'm cutting tomatoes," Spain replied, confused. He stepped aside and lowered his axe. Romano could see that, yes, there were tomatoes on the counter. Some in slices; some whole.

Okay, he didn't kill anyone. Just chopping up tomatoes. Maybe he'll let me have som- "Wait! Why do you need need a fucking, big-ass battle axe to cut tomatoes? Why would you cut them in the first place, let alone with an axe?" Romano demanded.

Spain got a nostalgic look on his face. "This isn't just a battle axe. She is my precious Maria." He pet the head of the axe lovingly. "Oh, Maria~ Te amo Maria~ Te amo hermosa Maria~ Do you love me? I love you~ Maria~ Maria~" Sapin cooed, stroking 'Maria'.

Romano backed away; his eyes bigger than his brother's pasta plates. This fucking weird. I'm getting out of here. As soon as he exited the kitchen, he ran out Spain's house as fast as he could. He didn't stop until he reached his hotel room. He was so freaked out that he didn't notice his brother and Germany sitting on the couch.

"Ve~ Fratello! You're back so soon~" Italy said. He wasn't fazed when Romano went to his room and slammed the door shut. "Did Big Brother Spain like his gift?"

Romano froze. The aforementioned gift was still in his hand. He would have to go back to Spain's house… "Damn IT!"

And scene. I'm sorry if I screwed up the little bit of Spanish in my story, it's not my first language and I don't speak it outside of class (usually). I only have one thing I have to say, and it's about the noise in Spain's house. I can say from personal experience that Spanish households are never quiet. (Or at least the ones I know of) There's always some sort of noise going on, background or otherwise. And that is when nothing exciting is going on. I won't even tell you what it's like during the World Cup. Hint: This is all I hear when I try going to sleep at night. GOAL,GOAL,GOAL, rapidSpanishwordsIdon'tknow, GOAL!