AN: And this is the chapter in which we find out that Texas sure knows how to tell a story…

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It was a hot, smoldering evening, and the sweat shone off the men's bare shoulders and ruined the women's perfectly applied make-up. There were eight of them altogether, four of them gathered on a quaint little porch, sipping at quickly-warming soft-drinks of varying flavors and popular brands (that they seemed to collectively refer to as "coke") and four of them congregated around a barbeque, swapping stories and culinary techniques. Music floated around the unintentionally divided crowd, flitting about the ears of the party goers, but not staying long enough to properly entice them, just long enough to squeeze in a word or two before moving on to the next conversation. Despite the comfortable atmosphere, and the light-hearted, causal nature of the get-together, there was a tension settling in on them; settling on all of them but one, that is.

It was not as though the Southern States disliked Texas, quite the contrary, they all held respect and love for their brother; it was just that he was so closely associated with a source of great anxiety. The Game. Yes, it was something they could not deny; he was one of the rule-makers, and the fear he wrought during their play was not easy to forget. They took pains to try, to remember that he is one of them, not some far-off over-seer, not some god-like authoritative figure which had a mind to do nothing but cause them suffering, but some were having a harder time of it then others. It was stifling to those few, fear drumming against their heads and hearts and- even as they tried to combat it- slowly changing the way they treated him.

Texas (bless his heart) was oblivious to it all.

Texas was lounging comfortably on a glider, back against the armrest, arm slung over the back, one leg resting easily on the vacant seat next to him while the other extended to the floor, gently rocking him back and forth. He sat with his drink in hand half raised to his lips, untroubled by the rising note of tension in the conversation around him, poised as if a king on this throne, over seeing his pawn's movements. It was not an unusual air for him to have hanging around him- he had always perched in regal fashion- what was unsettling to the states about it now was that they now felt the pressure of the pawns they had seen him command so often.

For the most part, the conversation was trivial; sports, the weather, meaningless celebrity gossip, but there were questions so heavy between the women's chattering, and the men's gruff jesting it would soon become tangible. Questions like why? Why? WHY? It was an unspoken fixed at the end of every statement, a silent inquiry that was trying desperately to slip out that was not helped by Texas' contributions at all.

Somehow, it managed to come back to Minnesota, always Minnesota. Minnesota never does this, Minnesota said she liked that, Minnesota wanted one of those, I should ask Minnesota that. Minnesota, Minnesota, Minnesota. Minnesota and all his pet names for her; Minnie is cute, Minn is so silly sometimes, 'Sota says "pop" instead of soda; isn't that just hilarious?

It eventually became too much, and someone broke and asked the damned question; the South has never been good at holding tongues after all.

"Hey Texas?" Mississippi ventured, the one to cave under the curiosity, interrupting nothing in particular.

Texas set his gaze on his brother, it sat there heavy, challenging. "Yeah, Mississippi?" He responded calm and nonchalant.

"What's you deal with Minnesota anyway?" The question held an innocent connotation, as if Mississippi was truly unaware of the Game they played.

They all held their breath, the music playing on in the background, decidedly ignoring the thickness of the pause and cheerily blathering on its tune. Texas regarded Mississippi with a slow blink and a tilt of his head.

"I like her, is all. Why do you ask?" He said, giving an equally as innocent answer.

"Well…" Mississippi hesitated, finding a way to ask without offending, or being too vague. "It's just it seems a little out of the blue- one day you barely even know she exists, the next, you're all about her. Why is that?"

Texas tilted his head back and finished off his luke-warm drink in a single gulp before leaning forward and setting his glass down on a near-by end table with a small chuckle.

"Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell 'ya… In fact, I've been thinking a lot about it lately, and I think I can put it in words pretty well now." He said, and the south breathed a sign of relief, the question did not anger him.

"I was angry one day; and I mean real angry. I was confused and scared and angry." Texas assumed a far-off look they had come to associate with remembering defeat. "I was bound to lash out at someone, and Minnie was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Texas' brothers and sisters shared looks, they knew what day that was; he had come back bruised and bloody and laughed in their faces when they asked what was wrong.

"I said all kinds of nasty things to her," Texas continued. "And she didn't like that one bit." He laughed here. "See, I had forgotten what a little spirit she was when we fought last- the girl doesn't back down if it'll kill her, and, well, when it came right down to it, I was lookin' for a fight, so that's what she gave me."

The look in his eye was full of soft affection, and his words were ringing with endearment. "A fight" was too light a word for what Minnesota had given him. It was more like she had stirred up the ashes of a long-dead fire and found a coal still hot and red to bring it back with a rage. It had always been assumed that Minnesota was a well-meaning buffoon- cheery and agreeable, but never quite grasping the situation- until Texas had come back that night in a craze.

"Well," Texas interrupted any thoughts his fellow Southerners may have been lost in. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, but I can say she showed me a face that I had never seen before- it was not Minnesota as I knew her, and I was instantly enamored." Texas stood and gracefully stepped over to the rail of the porch, lightly grasping a pillar with one hand and ghosting over his eye with the other, his expression still that of one in the past.

"She wanted to do it again, and I instantly agreed, how could I say no to that? I went away from her, giddy, excited, you all saw it." Texas said, turning to his audience, they remained quiet, waiting for him to finish. "But then, I thought to myself… 'What have I done? My sister, the North, that was not Minnesota, that was not her.' And I fell to my knees and prayed to God." Texas raised his palms in front of himself, as if begging at the mention of their god.

"I Prayed, head bowed, day after day, and received no answer; I fixated on what she had become- I studied her day after day, becoming more and more frustrated." Texas's eyes swept over his brothers and sister, a stern look gracing his features.

"Her name is the Dakota word meaning 'Sky Tinted Water.' She is known as the North Star State and the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes and, by her own definition of a lake, she has well over that number. She was born the thirty-second child of America on May 11, 1858, she's the twelfth largest state and her Capital is St. Paul… All these things I learned about her were trivial, nothing, no battle records, no demographics, no study of tourists rates, no cultural analysis told me what I needed to know." He paused again here, challenging the others to question his diligence, or sneer at his facts. Again, they remained silent. He continued on.

"It became to much for me, and I cursed the heavens, I opened my eyes and raised my head in defiance, ready to look God in the eye and curse him too, but then I saw it, and it all made perfect sense." He broke into a grateful smile and his words having all the conviction of a preacher as he spoke.

"God had been answering me all along, if I had only just looked up! There, I saw the face of God, and I knew, I knew what I had seen that day in Minnesota!" He laughed and it was joyous and full of true happiness. "And I knew why they call her 'Sky Tinted Water'; she reflects the heavens!" He raised his hand in the air, as if in praise, his eyes closed, expression serene.

Slowly he lowered his arms back down to his sides, then opened his eyes, they were clear and lucid, no light of madness in sight. "She is as beautiful as our lord, his perfection is reflected onto her. How could I do anything but revere her?" He turned and reassumed his seat his explanation given, and the South, for a second, forgot that they were pawns for the sacrificing, and praised their king.

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AN: And now we know how Texas sees Minnesota- crazily. I don't know if this makes Minnesota seem more like the bad guy, or Texas seem more unstable…

You know, I have this image in my head about how states view each other, but I actually don't know what stereotypes are common place, and what are just a local thing for me. It has made me do a lot of research on the matter.

I started with my two biggest re-occurring characters; Minnesota and Texas, and believe me you, the internet is not kind to either of them.

Apparently Texas is one big cesspool of ignorant, gun hoarding, racist fat asses and Minnesota is full of air-headed, blonde-hair-blue-eyed soccer moms toting their children from ice-fishing to turtle racing on a nice, snowy, suburban afternoon. Also, they both have THE MOST OBNOXIOUS ACCENTS IN THE WORLD. Neither of which make them out to be very intelligent in the long run.

I don't buy most of it; especially the accent bit, I kind of like both of 'em and I'm not of the opinion that an accent really dictates one's intelligence. But, my fine readers, what do you think about Texas and Minnesota? Or anybody else for that matter, what stereotypes stick out in your head of America, or American states? I'm interested to find out.