Guess who, after a two- hour Customer Support call, finally got Italian Rosetta Stone installed? IO!

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Anyway! Today's story is "Vancouver Tallies Damage After Hockey- Fan Rioting" by Nirmala Menon and Chip Cummins seen in the Wall Street Journal on June 17th, 2011.

Canada groaned and rolled over in bed. His head pounded. Today he was just going to stay right there, holding Kumakichiorwhateverhisfacewas, and not do anything. Even eat.

Wait, where was Kumachico?

He shot up, ignoring his protesting head, and shouted, "Where's Kuma-"

"Dude!" A strong hand held his shoulder. "Ca- uh, Matt. You have a concussion. Don't freak out." When his eyes came into focus, he saw America there, holding his shoulder with one hand and Kuwojima in the other. "I've got him. See?"

Kumajijo jumped out of America's grip and curled up in Canada's lap.

"Wait, I have a concussion?" Canada slurred as America placed his glasses on his nose. He blinked. Much better. "And why did you just call me Matt?"

"Well, first thing is, we're in a hospital in Vancouver, so I had to register you as a human," America explained, stepping back so his brother could look around. "So call me Al. And second thing... OK, if I tell you, will you promise on the life of all maple trees forever that you won't totally freak out at me?"

Canada blinked back surprise, rubbing the back of his (bandaged) head. What could anyone have done to...? Whatever, he may as well hear it. "Am- Al, what happened?"

America took a deep breath, wondering how he should break it to him. "It involved a hockey game. Game seven of the Stanley Cup, to be exact. And the Bruins kinda..."

Canada's eyes grew wide with horror. He promptly squeezed them shut. His headache was worse. "Oh, God. No. What was the score?"

"F- four to nothing."

"No. It can't be. It can't be. IT CAN'T BE." Canada held his head in his hands. "Al. Why? How? What did I do to deserve-"

America hugged him gently, by which I mean "he nearly broke the poor hospital patient's bones, but hey, it's the thought that counts!" He murmured into his sobbing brother's ear, "It's okay, Canada. It's okay."

Canada wiped at his eyes. "So then why am I here?"

"There was a... thing... after the game."

"A... thing."

"Yes. A thing."

"Care to define that?"

"... A riot."

Suddenly, Canada remembered it all:

There were only a few minutes left in the third quarter. It was hopeless. Canada drifted out of the stadium in tears. Why did America always have to win?

He kept wandering around until he found a sports bar. The TV was broadcasting the score. 4-0 (Final). He thought he'd been resigned to his fate, but seeing this broke his heart all the more.

Said broken heart was filling up with pure rage. This was a side of Canada you never wanted to bring out. This was the side that possessed him when he and England burned down the White House and made the Germans crap their sorry pants during World War Two.

This was the side that joined hundreds of his people in an all- out riot and only stopped when he was slammed headfirst into a car.

"Oh. Oh, my God. My reputation. My reputation is gone. My boss is going to murder me. My people are probably going to hide in their houses for the next decade. Ame- Al, what do I do?"

"I wouldn't say your reputation's gone! I saw you fighting right before you went down, and dude, you kick ass! Like a boss!"

"AL! NOT HELPING!"

"But no, seriously, this isn't the first time stuff like this happened. I think something happened in England a while back where a bunch of people actually died. Plus I was watching CNN earlier. I didn't even see anything on the marquee." America slurped down a milkshake thoughtfully. "In fact, if I wasn't there for the game, my heroicalificness probably wouldn't have noticed anything! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

"Al. I hate you." But Canada couldn't help but laugh. Here he was, the mature one, in the hospital over a sports match. It was ridiculous how alike he and his brother could be sometimes. "I hate you so much."

America quirked an eyebrow. "So how can I make it up to you?"

Canada thought for a moment. "Take notes if you know how to write. I want some Advil, a few books from the library down the street, a really nice cup of jasmine tea, my laptop, my cell phone, Kumaasl;dfj's food, clothes for when I'm out of this stupid hospital gown, and most of all, a really big stack of pancakes with maple syrup."

America nodded, showing his annoying "I'm the hero!" smile. "Got it! To the Almobile!" he shouted, got up, and dashed out of the hospital room. It was only afterwards that Canada realized what America might do.

"AL! NOT THE CRAPPY MCDONALDS SYRUP!"

As you can probably tell, I don't really like human names. It's not the names themselves; in order to get everyone right, you have to research how the names would actually be spelled. And then not everyone has one and you have to make crap up. That said, Mathieu will be my first son's name.

So, whadja think? Please tell me. Reviews are even better than candy- they make me feel warm and fluffy without making me fat! XD