World Buffet
A oneshot born of my St Patrick's Day dinner. Unfortunately, my humor fics aren't as long as my other type, so sorry! BTW I DO NOT own Hetalia. I would make many of the fics on this website reality if I did ( with the owners' permissions, of course!)
The nations moseyed about the conference room, the tables pushed against the walls laden with luxurious dishes of each countries' favorite dishes. The Asians, minus Japan, hung out near their own tables. They weren't too keen on trying out some of the strange looking foods a few particular. There was also a peculiar stench that, when their drifting cousin Japan got too close, even he had to politely cover his nose.
When South Korea had, less than even Spain thought polite, loudly approached the table to try and find the source of the smell, his (rotting) nose directed him to the table of the Germans, with the Italian food a table or two over.
"Is it this weird colored blob that reeks? Do us a favor, you Germans, and get rid of it!" With a trounce, he walked over to the other side of the world, a.k.a. room. He was either blissfully ignorant or skillfully overlooking the glares that Germany and England (why was he at the German table?) sent after he retreated.
To the world's surprise-or maybe not, as England was part of the group- France also began to dispute the case. "Oui, mes hommes, do us all a favor and remove that putrid smell from the room. It iz making mon beautiful eyes water, non?"
"Oh, I'll give you something to cry about, you bloody wanker!" As soon as England tackled France to the ground, everyone started to routinely ignore them. Could they honestly not stop arguing, even at a buffet?
"My food is better than yours!"
"I must disagree, mon cher. My food has been a delicacy and a gift to the world, and has been so much longer than your bland mortification of a cuisine. Go spice it up and come back in a few centuries, oui?"
Apparently not.
Japan sighed at the turmoil. Germany was still glowering over at his cousin, and trying to comfort a sniffling Italy at the same time. He felt bad, but it was the truth, though he would never tell them aloud. Unfortunately, the rotten smell was coming from both of their tables, so Yong-Soo's comment was aimed at both of them.
His brown eyes swept the room. Why must they hold these banquets? All it did was give the people gathered here another reason to fight. 'Surely our food is different enough to cause issues?' is what he'd thought when America had first told him of the event. Only half an hour into to thing and already Japan had been proven correct in several different incidents.
He despised how his relatives were keeping to themselves over in Asia. He himself had made it his personal goal to try one thing, even if it was small, from every nation. He'd avoided the german table up until then, but now it was his only stop left before he could civilly excuse himself from the entire ordeal. He honestly had too much on his plate (pun intended,) with the recent tsunami, to have much patience in dealing with the controversial nations at this point.
He approached Austria's side first; it was as far from his companion's place that he could start at. Before he could consume the delicate-and thankfully small-portion of meat, a hand tapped his shoulder. He placed the food back down on his sample tray before turning to face several red-faced nations.
Among their numbers stood Turkey, America, and Poland. In Turkey's hands was a bowl filled with a food and sauce of his. 'Shiokara?' "Can I herp you, gentremen?"
Turkey started, but America looked furiously on, with Poland nodding zealously in the background. "Actually, yes. What is this shikakakara stuff? I thought the cheese was bad, but this stuff is atrocious!"
"Its shiokara, Mr. America, and it's a dish made with raw squid, served in sauce of fermented fish guts. I thought the instructions were to bring one bad delicacy from our nation? If so then that is it."
The trio blinked at him. "Who told you to about the requirements?" America had told him of the event itself, but it had been South Korea who had told him about the compulsory detail.
"Korea."
America's shoulders sagged. "Dude, he lied to you."
Japan sighed, almost inaudibly. "Well, there isn't very much I can do now that is on the tabre. If you do not rike it, then do not eat it." Feeling that the conversation was done, as the trio walked away, Japan popped the sample into his mouth. It was savory, the flavor was strong for the small morsel, and he could taste the individual spices that went into making it.
As the Asian nation made his way down the table, several other countries approached him about the horrid food. Every time, he explained the folly. When he told Denmark about the mishap, the man actually went over to yell at the offending nation. That was an interesting cross-world fight. In the end, Sweden and Norway had to drag the Nordic power away, while Hong Kong and China stopped Korea from chasing after him.
Finally, he got to Switzerland's part of the table, though Japan was sure he had protested to being on the German table, when he could've gone on several other tables. None of the dishes were too appealing, but there was a type of cheese that had holes in it. It seemed to be low in stock, though, so Japan assumed it must have been tasty.
It was savory, but it lacked the tang that other types of cheese he had tried were in possession of. Switzerland, noticing the lack of his country's cheese type, came over to replenish it. From under the clothed table, the blond nation pulled out a block of cheese, the same texture and color of the stocks on the plate.
From under his coat Switzerland withdrew a small pistol. Taking a second or two to take aim, he actually shot the cheese, till it was as full of holes as it cousin. Japan sat back, as the emergence of the gun had startled him. Was this really how the Europeans put holes in their food? It seemed absurd, the uses these people could find for their guns.
Apparently the other people in the room agreed. The entire room had been shocked into silence. Eventually, America began laughing, dissolving into a puddle of chuckles on the floor. Ask England, and he would've told you there was a slightly hysterical edge, but he could've just as easily imagined it. After all, he was panicking slightly himself.
Switzerland turned to Japan, oblivious to the disbelieving eyes that were placed on him. "Japan, would you mind cutting up the cheese? It'll be much faster than taking it to some plant to do the job."
The island felt it would be better to comply as opposed to making a scene, so he silently withdrew his blade and diced the block up. Then, the pair shoveled the stuff onto the plate. As Japan continued down the table, he watched the room return to normal as Switzerland returned back to his little schwester. Liechtenstein simply smiled at her brother. Perhaps she was used to her bruder filling cheese blocks full of holes in his… unique manner.
Japan shook his head at the absurdity he was constantly faced with as he exited the room. He wanted to go home, and sleep the event off. Even he had a limit to how falsely polite he could be. The nations constantly commenting on the simple misunderstanding was too much. The rotten cheeses were worse than his simple dish, weren't they? Hopefully their bosses would wise up and not enforce this ridiculous event again. No need for a private world war three, the forties were enough.
Russia stood of to the side, sipping his beer substitute (the people in charge had forbidden him bringing any alchoholic drinks,) kvass, and he was venting his anger by using his smile to sweep the room. He saw others shiver under his gaze and felt his giddiness at their weakness shoot up; it was so easy to intimidate anyone.
"Brother!"
Except, of course, for his sister. He stood strong, and let the girl cling to him. If he stood there and ignored her long enough, maybe she'd leave him alone.
A few minutes later saw Russia fleeing out the same door that Japan had left through.
The rest of the nations took their leave in pairs or trios. Most tried to leave before the Europeans, as most were probably going to spend the rest of their evening in pubs. Especially England. The remaining nations tried to vacate before that mess left the building.
Canada, who'd been taking a nap in the corner, woke up to find the room empty, dark, and most importantly, locked.
"Why me?" He moaned to himself.
"Who?"
"I'm Canada…"
I had fun with this one. It's fun to play with humorous aspects of characters, though most of my writings tend to be darker. Maybe that's why my stories are short if funny; I can't go into too much detail without going dark. First Hetalia fic, yeah!