Time for some good ol' crack, kiddies! You guys had to have seen this coming, what with the internet spamming us with Grandmano everywhere. This is just a little twist on the traditional Red Riding Hood fairytale by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, so please do enjoy. And please do keep in mind that this is CRACK.

I don't own Hetalia or Led Zeppelin.

Once upon a time, as all stories must go, there lived a mischievous blonde girl named Fenke who was loved by everyone who saw her, but her Grandmano was so excessively fond of her that he never knew when to give the child enough (he often said this with an eye roll. Fenke thought he might have a tumor). One day Grandmano presented the girl with a white velvet riding hood. Fenke was unhappy; no one wore white anymore! It wasn't practical to wear because of all of the things the villagers ate with tomatoes in it. She decided not to wear it unless in the company of her Grandmano, who was, incidentally, a very volatile person who took offense very easily.

"Grandmano, what are you making for dinner~?" the girl would chirp in her tone-deaf sing-song voice.

"Fucking pasta," her Grandmano would grumble, a dusty bottle of wine in one hand. Grandmano loved pasta so much that she was convinced that he would fuck it if he could figure out where its holes were. When the pasta was presented, Fenke squealed and reached out a hand to make herself a plate. Grandmano turned his head around like in the exorcist and stared at her like he had just witnessed the abortion of Jesus Christ. Which would be a big deal to Catholic Grandmano. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" he screeched, his eyes bursting into flames and his glasses shattering.

"I-I came to visit you, Grandmano, for dinner, and I just—"

"YOU GET NO PASTA."

"so hungry—"

"AWAY WITH THEE, SPAWN OF MY SPAWN'S LOINS!"

And he yelled at her so hard that the white velvet coat turned red from being erotically turned on so much by Grandmano's angry purple face with spittle flying out. And that can happen to coats, because all coats are masochists. Don't believe me? Ask yours.

Since it was no longer white, Fenke wore it all the time. It also now always smelled vaguely of tomatoes, so the girl was known as Little Toma Riding Hood. One day her mother said to her— "Come here, Toma Riding Hood; here are some tomatoes and a bottle of our best wine: take these to your Grandmano. He requires sacrifice so he doesn't terrorize the other villagers. Hurry before he wakes up, and go quietly and carefully. Don't run, because if you break the bottle and Grandmano gets no wine then the wrath of God shall come upon you."

Fenke smiled sweetly. "Of course, mama~!"

Grandmano lived far away in the woods, because he hated people and had the tendency to ejaculate from his nipples when frightened. It's a natural defense against predators. Shut up. So as Fenke entered among the trees she met a wolf, but she did not know what a malicious beast it was (the wolf, known as Lars to the other wolves, wasn't aware of the danger he posed either), so she wasn't afraid. Fenke was what you would call stupid. "Hello, wolf!" she chirped. He looked over at her with dull, uninterested eyes. Fenke frowned. Maybe he was an illegal alien, she thought. "KO-NEE-CHEE-WAH. BUENOS DEE-ASS. BON-JER," she repeated louder, as if speaking louder would help him understand her better.

There was no misunderstanding; Lars the wolf simply didn't wish to converse with the obviously retarded girl. Hoping she would go away soon and trip and drown in a shallow creek, he coughed. "Hello."

The girl brightened. "Oh! You talk! Great! I've always wanted a wolf friend, you know."

"Have you," Lars said mildly, starting to walk away. Unfortunately, the girl followed after him.

"Yes! And since you're my new wolf friend, would you like to know where I'm going?"

"No," Lars said bluntly. He noticed a bulge under the girl's apron. "Are you pregnant?" He was incredulous. They just kept getting younger and younger…either that or women were just getting stupider. He never was good with telling someone of the female persuasion's age anyway.

"No, I'm carrying tomatoes and wine. I'm going to my Grandmano's house out in the woods." She smiled brightly, happy to have someone other than the cobweb on her ceiling to talk to.

Lars wasn't like most other wolves, if you couldn't already tell. First of all he could talk, which set him well above the majority of other wolves in the area. Second of all he had no real drive to hunt or kill for his food. An easy meal was a good meal, and this sounded right up his alley. He took his pipe out of his mouth (yeah, he has a pipe. Wolves can have pipes. Go read a National Geographic magazine). "Where does your…'Grandmano' live?" he asked.

"Why?" Fenke asked, finally feeling a little suspicious of her friend's motives.

"You can tell me now or I can find out later on GoogleEarth," he said bluntly.

"About 25 minutes from here down this path. When you're almost there you will come across Led Zeppelin. They will start playing 'Stairway to Heaven' but don't stop, don't listen! You'll get trapped in an endless Stairway loop forever! After that the cottage stands under three oak trees and loads of tomato plants and grape vineyards."

"Why Led Zeppelin?" Lars asked.

Fenke stared at him strangely for a few seconds. "They are always there. I don't know why."

Lars the wolf thought to himself,I'dmuchrathereatabunchoftomatoesandgrapesandthisgirlthanthatoldlady.ThoughIguessitcan'tbehelped.I'llmakeastewtosoftenthetoughmeat.IhavetobeslickthoughifIwanttoeatthemboth.Lars flailed and pointed into the woods. "Look! Something shiny!"

Fenke whirled around and squealed excitedly, dropping the basket covered in her apron like her mother feared she would. "Really? Where? Where?" And she took off into the dark unknown in search of the something shiny.

Lars picked up the basket (where the wine bottle was miraculously unbroken, thank god) and headed straight to Grandmano's house, sure to avoid Led Zeppelin. He knocked on the door, because wolves can do that. At least, Lars the wolf could.

"Who the motherfuck is it?" came the irritated, masculine voice from within.

"Little Toma Riding Hood, bringing you some tomatoes and wine. Please open the door," replied the slightly confused Lars. Didn't the girl say 'Grandmano'? As in 'grandmother'…? Shemustbeill,he thought, becauseshesoundssuspiciouslylikeaman.

"Open the damn door yourself! Stupid grandchild…"

Lars was offended and opened the door, and was about to advance upon the woman to eat her when—

"Oh fucking Jesus!" the wolf hissed in surprise. Little Toma Riding Hood's grandmother looked suspiciously like a 25-year-old Italian man with anger issues. No, Lars wasn't a psychologist; he saw the man pointing a shotgun at him threateningly with no provocation as a pretty clear sign.

"WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH THE SON OF GOD?" Grandmano yelled, shooting at Lars. Thankfully he missed, and his glasses (new ones, since his old ones had shattered when his eyes burst into flames) slipped off his nose. "Son of a bitch…" he muttered, stooping down and feeling around the ground for them. He put the shotgun by his side so he could look for them, and when Lars recovered from his heart attack he breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, he wasn't so hungry anymore.

"Um…" he said awkwardly, bending down towards the gender-confused Italian. "Do you want some help…?"

Grandmano lifted his head sharply and was about to reply with a witty retort when he realized who he was staring at. This was not his stupid grandchild. "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK!" He scrambled away from Lars, who was a very large and very menacing looking wolf (despite the fact that he really could care less to eat Grandmano at the moment), if you did not know at this point in the story. And unlike his grandchild, Grandmano was not stupid. "What are you-where's my stupid-oh-oh fuck! Ahh!" Grandmano was terrified at the sight of a wolf in his solitary cottage, and it caused him to ejaculate from his nipples. He arched his back off the wall he had backed himself against and moaned loudly.

Lars stared uncomfortably at Grandmano. Oh how a good day could turn bad by running into a stupid tomato-smelling girl. There were two dark wet spots on Grandmano's nightgown where his nipples were. Lars smelled cum with his awesome wolfy nose senses, but this confused him. According to biology and sex-ed (because Lars had a college education. This is another reason why he wasn't like most wolves.), semen came out of the penis after reaching climax during sexual intercourse. Or of course masturbation.

But neither had occurred, and Lars was still pondering this strange occurrence with his sciencey wolfy mind when Grandmano picked himself up from the floor and brought himself shakily to his feet. He was panting and his face was flushed. He looked very angry. "What…the fuck…are you doing in my house?" he growled, leaning against the wall for support.

Lars blinked. "I was going to…well, eat you. And your tomatoes. And your grapes. And then maybe end the day with a good deed and kill Led Zeppelin." Honesty is the best policy, Mama Lars always said.

Grandmano stared blankly back at Lars the wolf. "Was that all? Fuck, you scared the fuck out of me you stupid fuckhead wolf-bastard…" he muttered.

Lars picked the Italian's glasses off the floor and walked over to hand them to him. "Uh, here…"

"I HEARD MOANS IN THIS COTTAGE AND I SMELL SEX!" Antonio Fernandez Iglesias Rodriguez-Santiago Carriedo the woodsman (who also had awesome wolfy nose senses when it came to sex) tried to make a dramatic entrance, but the door to the cottage was already wide open. Seeing this, he stepped outside and closed the door and then threw it back open. After making his fail entrance, he saw Lars the wolf and Grandmano backed into a corner. The Spaniard gasped, assuming the worst. "RAPE! RAPE IN THE COTTAGE!" He pulled his knife out of his belt and started towards the two. "I'LL SAVE YOU, MILDLY ATTRACTIVE WOMAN! OLÉ!"

At about this time Fenke realized that she should probably be getting to her Grandmano's cottage, so she turned back and walked past Led Zeppelin (oooohohhhh,andshe'sbuyingastairwaytoHeaven…)and found that the door to her Grandmano's cottage was wide open. Inside she found quite the sight.

Her Grandmano was backed against the wall and the wolf she had met earlier was in front of him, hands raised, Grandmano's glasses in one hand. An attractive Spanish woodsman was brandishing a knife at them. "Oh Grandmano, look what this fear has made you do!" Fenke tutted, striding fearlessly into the room. Antonio Fernandez Muchacho Me Gusta Carriedo turned and looked at the red-clad girl with surprise.

"Oh fucking Christ, it's my retarded grandchild." Grandmano muttered. "We're doomed."

Fenke walked over to her Grandmano and took him by the arm, for her Grandmano was a frail person who would snap in half if he got hit by a small gust of wind. "Making my poor old Grandmano ejaculate from fear. You should be ashamed of yourselves!" Grandmano sat in his favorite rocking chair. Because though he hated being called old, he did love his rocking chair. And sponge baths, if anyone was around to give him one. He sighed; no one ever was.

The woodsman's green eyes brightened. "Ejaculate?"

Fenke narrowed her eyes. "Yes. Ejaculate from hisnipples. From fear. Cause you scared him!"

"Oh." Lars' presence had before been forgotten. "Uh, that was my fault." Little Toma Riding Hood and Antonio the woodsman stared at him.

"Oh. Oh! So there was nothing weird going on here…"

"No." Grandmano leered at Antonio from his kingly rocking chair. He didn't like the Spaniard one bit.

Antonio, however, seemed to have just fully noticed Grandmano. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open; he walked over to the Italian and got down on one knee, taking his hand in his and kissing it. "Who is this most beautiful woman I've ever seen? Hola, mi amor…"

Grandmano turned red and pulled his hand away from Antonio. "You assface, I'm a guy! I have a fucking penis!"

Antonio, who didn't believe he could get any happier, did. He cried manly gay man tears and pulled the Italian to his chest and squealed like the happiest, manliest man in the world. "Oh, mi corazon! Mi querido! Let us ride into the sunset like there's no mañana and make sweet, sweaty, passionate love on some faraway coast where I can love you forever." He kissed him and Grandmano yelped.

"Hey bastard, you don't even know my name—"

"A name is but a word!"

"I know, you idiot, but it's pretty impor—"

"I'll give you sponge baths everyday—"

"WAIT A FUCKING SECOND." Grandmano shoved the horny Spaniard off of him and stared at him. "You'll give me sponge baths?"

"Si!"

"And wear the sweaters I knit you?"

"Si!"

"And remind me to take my medication?"

"How old are you?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Grandmano's face turned red like a fruit that starts with't' (because I don't care what you people say. A red turnip is a fruit).

"Romano's only like, 25," Little Toma Riding Hood said. "He has a grandmother complex. What, did you really think he was mybiological grandmother? He's a man for Christ's sake!"

"Well these days with modern medicine and technology, you can…" Antonio trailed off and his face brightened again after his moment of confusion passed. "Si, Si Roma! I'll do that and I'll make you prune oatmeal every morning and cure your arthritis with my passionate lovemaking and—"

Grandmano (the newly rediscovered Romano) interrupted the babbling Spaniard by pulling him into an impatient kiss, which turned into a very hands-on make out session, which then turned into the removal of several articles of clothes, and Lars was inclined to take Fenke out of the cottage, closing the door behind him.

"Grandmano sure did like that woodsman, huh?" she said brightly, glad that her Grandmano was becoming better at making friends.

"Hm," Lars grunted. "Look, this afternoon has been interesting and all, but—"

"Ahhhn! Roma! Oh Roma, I need your Italian seed inside my hot Spanish ass!"

"…I think I'm going to leave now." He started to wander off into the trees. "Maybe terrorize some baby rabbits and watch them die of fear…at least they don't ejaculate from their nipples…"

And so it was that Lars the wolf led a fairly normal wolfy existence after that, and Fenke returned to her mother Elizaveta, (who was pleased to hear of Antonio the woodsman's arrival) who made crepes to celebrate Little Toma Riding Hood's safe return, and Grandmano (who decided he would go by Romano. Sometimes.) and Antonio rode into the sunset like there was no mañana, because their really wasn't. Because this is just a story. The end.

And thus concludes the ending to another lovely spamano story. So I think I'm going to go on a Hetalia hiatus for a little while so I can finish my South Park Stolovan story The Life and Times of the Star Wars Kid and *possibly* my Style story Romeo and Jewliet. Don't worry, it won't take forever! R&J is already on Act III I think, and Life and Times…I don't even fucking know. We'll see. Well my lovelies, au revoir.

We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when… *cough*readALLofGeorgedeValier'sstories*cough*

Review this crack? It's really my first attempt at it, so I really want to see if I followed the crack rules, or whatever. If there are rules to crack. = ^ =