Because we all know how the Saturday after Thanksgiving ends.

Mittens

"TOUCHDOWN!"

The word echoed through Texas's house as dozens of televisions following dozens of different football games captured various victories for all the United States to see. For some states, like Georgia, Alabama, Florida, and Arizona, who were suffering from illnesses caused by in-state rivalries, the end of the day brought a welcome relief to the pain they had been experiencing. For others, however, the results were not as welcome.

CRASH!

"How could they lose?!" Michigan screamed as he stomped on the remains of the television. Texas would surely make him pay for another, but he didn't care about that at the moment. "Thirty-nine tuh sixty-two! God damn it!"

Ohio just watched Michigan raging as he sat smugly on the sofa. Yes, today was definitely a good day to be a Buckeye. What else can you expect when you have the most awesome football players ever in your state? Not that he'd say that out loud, as Pennsylvania might hear him and get all huffy because she had some bragging rights of her own. Poor Maryland was still sobbing her eyes out over the results of the Maryland-Penn State match. Three points to thirty-eight is kind of humiliating, after all. Or even how the Temple Owls stomped the Connecticut Huskies in a seven to fifty-seven match. When Pennsylvania played, she played hard, as Ohio knew from personal experience.

Suddenly, Michigan stopped his little tantrum and stood very still. Then, he slowly turned and looked at Ohio with a cold smile. Ohio knew that look. The last time he saw it, he found Michigan's stupid pet wolverine ripping up his personal magazines. Thankfully, it was just his magazines. If that thing had touched his comic books, he would have skinned it and made it into a nice hat. Regardless, Ohio did not like the devious expression Michigan was wearing. Knowing his little brother, he was going to do something vicious and underhanded.

"Don't even think about it, Mitch," Ohio said warningly.

"What d'yuh mean?" said Michigan with an innocent smile that wasn't fooling Ohio.

"You're up to something."

"Oh, now, Godfrey. Even if I was up tuh somethin', do yuh really think I'd tell yuh aboot it?"

Michigan shuffled out of the room, followed by Ohio's suspicious gaze all the while. Once outside the room, he ambled through the house and out to the cavernous garage where he found Indiana fixing up a red and white, open-wheel formula racing car. Alabama was sitting on a nearby workbench with an icepack pressed to his forehead.

"What, yuh working on a car withoot me?" Michigan said lightly.

"I'm gonna tell you this once," Indiana said evenly. "Get the hell oot, Mitch."

"Aw, c'mon, Hoosie. Don't be like that. What'cha workin' on, anyhoo?"

"She's helpin' me fix my Betsy, that's what," said Alabama. "I need my gal in workin' order. Functionin', that is."

"I didn't know yuh drove formula-style, Owen."

"I don't, usually. You know I'm the center of the NASCAR universe."

"I think Virginia woold argue with yuh on that," said Indiana as she inspected the engine. "North Carolina and Florida, too."

"My Talladega Superspeedway is the longest NASCAR track in the country! Longest, I say! Besides, I've got the International Hall of Motorsports Fame right next door to it, so I've got a reputation to maintain, ya hear?"

"All right, all right, just let me do muh job, already." Indiana went back to her tinkering, grumbling about how NASCAR wasn't real racing, not like her beloved Indy 500 (which was part of the famous Triple Crown of Motorsport; not that Indiana would ever boast about it, or anything).

"So, Hoosie," Michigan continued, ignoring the irritated tic in his older sister's jaw. "Yuh want tuh go over the Christmas plans or anythin'? 'Cause I've got some great ideas for a holiday lightshow."

That certainly caught Indiana's attention. As much as she disliked Michigan, though not nearly as much as she loathed Kentucky and Illinois, she couldn't deny that she greatly enjoyed setting up for Christmas with him.

"It just so happens that I got a shipment of new, top'the line decorations which I'm willin' to share," Michigan said slyly.

"Wait, I say, wait right there," said Alabama. "Indy, he's up to somethin'. Schemin', that is. Ask him what he wants in return."

Indiana pursed her lips and looked up at Michigan with obvious suspicion.

"He's got a point, Mitch," she said. "What's the catch?"

"Ope!" said Michigan with an innocent smile. "Did I fuhrget tuh mention that we need to stop by Ohio's place on the way to my hoose?"

"He's a-plottin' somethin'," said Alabama. "Don't let him, I say, don't let him trick ya, sis."

Indiana scratched her chin thoughtfully.

"How much're yuh willing tuh make it worth m'while?" she said.

Michigan pulled out a phone and opened the camera roll. He pulled up recent pictures of the decorations and specialty lights he'd just had made. He'd been planning to share them with her, anyway, but it wasn't like she needed to know that when he required her help with his plans. Considering the hungry look in her eyes and the faint twitch around her lips that might be taken as a smile, he'd made a good call.

"All right, we got a deal, Mitch," said Indiana.

She handed him his cellphone back and Michigan clapped his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he said. "Let's talk terms." He slung an arm around Indiana's shoulder and steered her towards the door while Alabama looked at them in righteous indignation.

Alabama, honestly, didn't rightly care what they did to Ohio (Northerners messing with other Northerners was always amusing), but his Betsy was still having problems and he didn't feel comfortable working on his own cars. A doctor doesn't operate on his or her own family members, after all. Also, with the aftereffects from his fever, he didn't entirely trust his own judgement, at the moment.

"But, I suppose, when needs must, and all that," he muttered to himself, picking up a wrench.

America was slouched on the conference table, bored out of his gourd and ravenously hungry. He'd run a bit late that morning as the football jitters had kept him up most of Friday night and the aftermath had kept him up late on Saturday, so he hadn't been able to get more than a slice of toast as he rushed out the door on Sunday morning. The meeting had been dragging on for ages and they hadn't even had a snack break, yet.

He was distracted from his discomfort when he felt his cellphone vibrating. Quietly pulling out the phone and looking at his messages, America noticed a new text.

Jeet?

-Mitchell

Alfred texted a quick 'No' in response.

Be there in 5

-Mitchell

America watched the clock anxiously after that reply. Fingers tapping expectantly on the table as he zoned out from whatever was being said by the current speaker. Sure enough, five minutes on the dot, there was a crash as the doors were flung open and a figure on skis practically flew into the room.

The figure was a blur of green and blue, as the newcomer skidded to a stop beside America. The person, now shown to be a teenage boy, was clearly another of America's wayward brood, if the mega-watt smile was any indication. The boy removed his ski-goggles and shook his rather messy, brown hair loose from under the woolen hat he was wearing (the hat was a rather traditional winter hat, done in pale, bluish-green with white snowflakes). His clear blue eyes were bright and sparkling, and he had a sweet, round face that made several of the female nations just want to pinch his cheeks because he was just so cute.

"Hey, Michigan," said America.

"Heya, Papa," said the boy. The boy raised a mitten-clad hand and practically shoved it in America's face. "Greetin's from the Big Mitten."

America laughed and pulled Michigan into a warm hug and lightly ruffled the boy's hat-covered hair. When he saw the expectant looks from the other nations, America slung an arm around his son's shoulders and smiled.

"Guys, this is Mitchell Jones," he explained. "The state of Michigan."

"And home of America's car industry, don'tcha know," Michigan explained brightly. "Anyhoo, Papa, I brought'cha snack." He hoisted off a backpack that had a blue lion emblazoned on it and fished out a metal tin that was very prettily decorated in Christmas colors and handed it to America. "Mackinac fudge, best in the world. I also brought'cha thermos of hot choc'late." He handed the thermos to America. It should also be established that Michigan pronounced the name "Mackinac" as "Mack-in-aw," just so there is no confusion for those who are not familiar with the correct pronunciation of the name.

"Thanks, my little Santa Claus," said America.

Michigan positively beamed.

"I'm glad tuh make yuh happy, Papa," he said. "Yur the best papa in the world."

Several of the female countries (and one or two of the more sensitive male countries) made "Aw" sounds as Michigan gave America another hug, practically burrowing his face into his father's jacket.

"Ope! Papa, 'fore I forget," said Michigan, drawing back, "I'm workin' on the fam'ly Christmas list." He pulled a roll of paper out and opened it, causing it to unfurl all the way to the floor and then continue unrolling out through the doorway and into the hall. "Christmas is just 'round the corner, don'tcha know. But I'm not sure what to get for North Dakota. Yuh know how hard it is tuh figure out what he wants."

"Just get him some decent beer and a new hunting knife, I'm sure he'll be happy," said America.

"America, you actually allow your children to drink?!" England exclaimed in shock.

"You want to try telling them not to? Because you're more than welcome to try and I wish you the best of luck."

"They'd all probably kill yuh if yuh did," Michigan added with a casual shrug. "Well, 'cept Utah. Goodness knows he doesn't touch the stuff. But if yuh tried tuh keep ND from his booze, there wouldn't be a body left tuh find, yuh know. I, muhself, prefer a nice craft brew, not like that cheap, generic swill that some members of muh fam'ly like."

America just shook his head as he knew exactly who Michigan was referring to. No matter how hard he tried, Michigan and Ohio absolutely refused to cooperate unless there were lives at stake. It was the same story with many of the state rivalries, though Michigan and Ohio's enmity seemed to only be rivaled in magnitude by the one between New York and Massachusetts. After all, it wasn't like every state declares an actual war on another to get ownership rights over a city.

"Well, if yuh need anythin' else, Papa, just give me a call. I'm not lazy like Ohio."

Suddenly, the "Mr. Grinch" song began playing and Michigan, still smiling, casually flipped on his cellphone and clicked on the speaker.

"ASSHOLE!" the person on the other end screeched. "I know you're talking shit about me!"

"Oh-heya, Ohio," Michigan said pleasantly. "How's muh favorite big brother?"

"FUCK YOU!"

"Tsk-tsk, yuh should really learn tuh deal with that temper a-yurs. Don't wanna get coal for Christmas, do yuh?"

"Go to hell, Michel."

Michigan rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Bro, for the final time," he said, still perfectly polite in his tone. "It's Mitchell, now. Or do yuh want me tuh start callin' yuh 'Gottfried' instead of 'Godfrey'? Not that either name would make yuh less of a Fuckeye."

"BITCH-IGAN!"

"Ohio," America said warningly, "be nice to your little brother."

"HE STARTED IT!"

"How did he start it?"

"HE WAS BORN!"

Michigan gave a teary-eyed pout that had practically everyone melting from how cute it was. In fact, everyone seemed to have forgotten that Michigan had insulted Ohio, too. Such was the power of someone blessed with a deceptively angelic face and the ability to conceal blind, terrifying rage.

"Why does muh big brother hate me so?" Michigan said with a sniffle. Handing the phone off to his father, who patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

Belgium was so overcome that she rushed to Michigan's side and practically smothered him in a comforting hug. Unseen by Belgium, a wickedly delighted smile split Michigan's face.

Score one for me, Fuckeye, Michigan thought to himself.

"Ohio, that was uncalled-for," said America sternly. "You apologize to Michigan."

"LIKE HELL I WILL!" was Ohio's reply.

"Godfrey Jones!"

"NO!"

Ohio hung up.

"He's always been such a bully," said Michigan sorrowfully. "Even 'fore I was born, he wanted everythin' that was mine. Even declared war on me."

"You poor thing," Belgium cooed. "You come with me and I'll make you some waffles."

Michigan wiped away a crocodile tear and smiled at her.

"Thank yuh," he said. "Yuh're a nice lady."

As the two left, Michigan was internally crowing in triumph as he'd established his alibi. All he had to do was sit back and wait for Ohio to discover the early Christmas gift which he had sent Indiana to deliver. Plus, he got waffles out of the deal, too.

Ohio was still fuming as he drove away from the airport. Stupid Michigan just couldn't understand or accept that he'd been beaten by Ohio's far superior team and always would be, from now on. What right did Michigan have to trash-talk him just for being better at something? Spoiled brat. And Dad was always taking his side just because his 'precious baby Michigan' was 'ever so important' to supporting the economy with all his factories and because 'wonderful little Michigan' was 'so very instrumental in winning the Second World War.'

Ohio was important, too! Not that anyone seemed to remember him for much besides his three Cs (Cleveland, Cincinnati, and Columbia) and his many astronauts and presidents. But he had contributed just as much as Michigan to the American legacy, if not more. He had the first ambulance service, the first traffic light, the first cash register, the first professional baseball team (those good ol' Cincinnati Reds), he was home to the rubber capital of the world in Akron, he was the birthplace of Steven Spielberg, for goodness' sake!

But, of course, everyone just loves sweet, little Michigan because he makes America's cars (never mind that Ohio manufactured cars, too). To top everything off, Michigan had recently gotten a huge boost in strength because his internal economy was getting back on track after years of stagnation and decline, plus his unemployment rates were the lowest they'd ever been. It might be a bit petty and spiteful, but there was a very deliberate reason why Ohio chose to drive a Honda Accord rather than a car from an American company.

He pulled into the driveway of his home in suburban Dayton at long last. It was a very nice house, done in a Tudor-revival style. Unfortunately, his relief at being back home was immediately soured when he saw the 'light display' which someone had put up on his property.

In front of his house was a luminous Ohio State emblem done in red and white lights. That wasn't what he took issue with, however. No, the problem lay in the fact that, up on the roof, there was a Santa Claus figure with a string of yellow lights coming down from it, positioned in such a way that it looked as though the Santa Claus was taking a whizz on the Ohio State emblem. To complete the rather offensive display, there was a dummy dressed in an Ohio State-themed hoodie dangling from the rafters of the house with a string of blue and yellow lights wrapped around the dummy's neck like a noose.

Ohio stared at the display for a full minute before he finally absorbed what he was looking at.

"MICHIGAAAAAN!" he screamed furiously to the heavens.

Later, after he spent a good hour ripping down the lights, Ohio was curled up on his sofa with a scowl practically grafted onto his face as he attempted to ease his pain with a box of Buckeye candies. Beside him on the floor was a cast-iron skillet which he had every intention of using to bash Michigan in the head if he set so much as a single pinkie toe on Ohio's property. He could already picture the smug, self-satisfied look that was more than likely on that little bastard's face, right at that moment.

"I really do fucking hate him," Ohio muttered.

Author's Note: Michigan and Indiana really strike me as Christmas states. Especially considering there are towns like Christmas, Michigan and Santa Claus, Indiana. Add in North Pole, Alaska and you've got a Christmas Trio.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I do not follow organized sports, so I had to look up any and all football scores and references to car racing that were mentioned.

From what I can tell about regional Midwestern accents, like in large parts of Michigan and Indiana, there is a strong similarity to the stereotypical Canadian accent. A lot of drawn out 'ooh' sounds, like saying "aboot" instead of "about." Please correct any inaccuracies, but I am relying on what my father has told me about Midwestern dialects (he went to college in Indiana; DePauw University in Greencastle, if anyone cares to know).

"Ope!" is a Michigan/Midwestern slang term that basically just means "oops." Also, I've read that a lot of Michiganders like to mash up words in their sentences, an example of this is "Jeet?" which means "Did you eat?"

"Hoosie" is a shortening of "Hoosier," which is what people from Indiana call themselves.

Michigan has the highest population of Finns, Dutch, and Macedonians in the US. It also has the second-highest population of Belgians, only being beaten for number one by Wisconsin.

Michigan is home to America's three big car producers: Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler.

Michigan and Ohio fought a war over who owned the city of Toledo. Granted, it was before Michigan became a state, but that enmity still lives.

Mackinac (as I said, pronounced as "Mack-in-aw") is an idyllic little island on Lake Huron with lots of adorable shops, historic buildings, and stuff. Cars are also strictly forbidden on the island.

Ohio can sense when Michigan trash-talks him. Michigan just doesn't care what Ohio thinks of him. As much as they hate each other, though, Ohio and Michigan are still brothers; anyone who hurts Ohio will face Michigan's Finnish sniper wrath and anyone who lays a hand on Michigan will be sent on a one-way trip to the bottom of Lake Erie by a very protective Ohio.

Michigan's original human name was "Michel," which he changed to "Mitchell" after the Civil War because it reminded him too much of his mother. Ohio's name also used to be "Gottfried," but he changed it during WWI because of the rising anti-German sentiments in the country (seriously, people changed street names if they sounded "too German" and numerous families would go so far as to change their own surnames).