A/N: I spent way too long figuring out of there was a Culver's in D.C...I tried to add politics that are relevant! I TRIIIIIIED.
Some might think that a restaurant such as Culver's wouldn't be represented in D.C, well those people would be entirely correct. After the meeting the States all hopped back into the car and drove to the closest Midwestern state they could find. That state happened to be Ohio, and a certain blonde state couldn't have been happier. She directed them via Indiana's phone over to Reynoldsburg and down Lancaster avenue where they finally came across Culver's in all its neon blue glory.
For eleven in the morning, traffic was surprisingly tame. Missouri pulled the van up into a parking spot, glancing back at her half asleep siblings. Kansas, beside her, huffed impatiently, leaning over and honking the car horn with a dulled expression. As expected, ten other beings jolted to life inside the van, all of them glaring at Kansas.
"We're here!" Ohio squealed, shoving the trunk door open a little too forcibly. She ignored Michigan's hurt expression as the car groaned from her actions, seeing as she didn't particularly care for the hunk of metal.
The States slowly filed out of the car, mumbling to one another. Alfred hopped out of his bright red truck, a grin already present on his face. "C'mon kiddies! Let's eat!"
Most of the gathered states inwardly groaned at their nickname. They were most certainly not kiddies. Nevertheless they all trailed after Alfred, filling up the area before a pristine white counter easily.
An old couple stood in line ahead of them, both of them turning and frowning softly at the thirteen people behind them. The cash register handed the couple a plastic tent with a cartoonish number scrawled on both sides.
As soon as the couple had hobbled away, Alfred slid up to the register. The cashier was a short female, around the late teens. She had dark hair flipped to one side, the ends and middle colored bright teal. Black glasses frames her face. She only raised an eyebrow at him, seeing as this man was just grinning at her. "Well...?" She started, gesturing to the menu. "Whadya want?"
Alfred became animated once more, licking his lips with eyes glistening in hunger. "I'll have three butter burgers with everything! A large soda! And a large fry!" He turned to the states, "what do you guys want to eat?"
Illinois pushed herself up to the front of the pack, a smug smirk on her face. "That'll be twelve orders of corn dogs, twelve medium fries, and twelve large soft drinks~" she said, almost seductively to the cashier.
The teen behind the counter raised her eyebrow again, assessing the crowd. Finally she turned to Alfred and asked, "so are these all your kids or...?"
Alfred chuckled, as if he found the statement to be a joke. "Only the blonde ones!"
Wisconsin, Kansas, Nebraska, Missouri, North Dakota, Michigan, Iowa, and South Dakota all looked over at Alfred as if he'd struck them. They knew he was acting a façade, he would have to. No human actually had fifty kids that they cared for. Let alone twelve. Their blonde siblings joined in with the momentary state of acquisition. They had always found Alfred's complaints that they wouldn't call him dad, rather endearing. Like a continuous joke. They never liked when it became all too real.
The cashier simply shrugged, inputting their order and counting out cups. Each State gathered their cup, pretending that Alfred didn't say it. South Dakota grabbed the number, Alfred already trailing off to the soda machine. North Dakota doubled up next to her twin, pointing at some tables that could be pushed together. South Dakota nodded simply, moving around the vacant room and pushing tables into a group.
Ohio was filling her cup up innocently enough, until a certain neighbor slid up to her with a simple smile. She scoffed, rolling her eyes, watching the Coka-Cola fill to the brim. "He didn't mean it,"
"Yeah, I know, you're just hogging all the good stuff."
"And here I was thinking you actually wanted to be neighborly. Remind me why I'm not throwing this soda in your face?" Ohio challenged, glaring back at Michigan.
"Why don't you? I'm in need of some new water anyways." Michigan sighed, looking down at his ankles, he knew they were swollen. But 'ol Rick Snyder wouldn't lift a finger to help.
Ohio softened her glare taking in a deep breath. "Let's just get seated."
They were the last two to make it to the table, Alfred at the head, the rest of the states filling in the sides. A hushed whisper was passing around the table. 'Use human names, use them.'
The number was placed near South Dakota, the blue number carved into it looking almost proud. A server came along not too long after, frowning slightly and laying out all of the food.
Alfred wasted no time in scarfing down his fist burger, the paper surrounding it already gone.
Iowa cleared his throat, glancing around. "So, I heard D.C wants to become a state." He was attempting to make conversation, it seemed to be somewhat working.
"What? Why? George gets to be the center! I don't see why he wants a title." Alfred replied, already tearing into the second burger.
"Yeah, but they don't get to vote." Missouri pointed out. "Think of all the citizens in the capital of our country who can't even vote."
The table silenced again, States engrossed with munching on their corn dogs.
Nebraska frowned as he bit off some of the batter. "Hey...does...does anyone else find this batter tasting weird...?" He asked, glancing around the table.
Kansas nodded, and Iowa sort of shrugged. Ohio glared across the table at the offending states. "My- uh...the batter's fine, Thomas."
Nebraska shrugged in reply, picking off more of the batter. "Sorry, it just doesn't taste...hmm...what's the word...real? Yeah. It doesn't taste like corn flour."
North Dakota sighed, rolling her eyes. "And you know alllllll about corn. Come on, there has to be more to your character than corn. It's just a tired trope that the writer came up with at this point."
The table murmured to each other 'true true' and 'yeah'. But then I THE MAGNIFICENT WRITER decided that that scene didn't happen at all but will still be included in the chapter because I want a large word count and some humor.
Ohio scoffed at Nebraska's comment. "I swear, sometimes you're almost as bad as Michigan!"
Michigan bristled from beside her, turning to Ohio with a fiery glare. "And what's THAT supposed to mean?!"
"It means I hate you!" Ohio shouted back, lunging from her seat and scratching at Michigan's face. All prior compassion vanishing.
He hissed in reply, swatting at her hands. The chairs scooted out of their way as the two wrestled each other on the floor, kicking and biting.
South Dakota took one look and shrugged. "So we're fighting now? AWESOME!" She proceeded to launch herself at her twin, another pair being tackled to the ground.
Alfred howled with laughter, leaning his seat so far back he fell with a clatter and several shouts. "HOLY SH-"
Wisconsin shouted joyfully, tackling Kansas and pretending to fight with him. Kansas just sighed blocking the fake attacks half heartedly.
Missouri buzzed around the conflict zones, attempting to settle everyone down. Needless to say it had little effect on the fighting states.
Indiana just turned to Illinois and began a pleasant conversation about the prairie and wild flowers.
Nebraska, Iowa, and Minnesota took one look at the fight before trailing off in a herd to get some French Silk Pie for the road.
As soon as they had left the manager of the Culver's came barreling out of the kitchen, wielding a very dirty broom. The manager shouted at the group, waving his broom around as if it could be threatening. "You are disturbing the other customers! Leave! Now! OUT OUT OUT!"
After being swatted with the broom the Midwest plus Alfred left the restaurant, save for Nebraska and company. They were still buying the pie.
Most of the States were disgruntled by the fact that they couldn't finish their meal. Several heated glares focused on the Dakotas and the rowdy neighbors; Michigan and Ohio. Alfred pried open his truck's bright red door. As soon as Nebraska, Iowa, and Minnesota came out with the pie, they traded part of it to ride in the truck.
With actual room in the trunk, Kansas took to the steering wheel, having Wisconsin be his shotgun.
The first row consisted of Illinois, Indiana, and Ohio, they had a lot of catching up to do together.
In the second row, Michigan, Missouri, and North Dakota were talking about recent politics. Their favourite conversation piece being 'how in the hell can West Virginia and Nevada vote for Trump?!'
South Dakota took up the trunk, wanting some alone time to cool down.
They all drove like this for quite a long while, voices bouncing back and forth between them as they headed back to Missouri. Why Missouri? Well that's where all their proper luggage and cars were!
Unfortunately, the car decided to make a pit stop in Illinois. A far distance from Chicago, rolling fields swayed against one another. To a city slicker, one could describe it as a golden ocean.
Dark plumes of smoke slithered from under the hood, Kansas scowling out the window. "Well that's just terrific..." He mumbled, turning around in his seat. "Looks like we'll be staying 'ere a while. Yo Michigan! Come take a look at this with me." He called, already on his way out of the van.
Michigan huffed, climbing over Missouri and following Kansas outside. Once he got closer, the State's face folded in disgust. Kansas had propped open the hood, black smoke billowing out into the air. Michigan stepped up, eyeing the intricate layout of the engine compartment. Tubes and pipes worked around each other in mismatched harmony, leading to the large engine; strong pistons gleaming against the soiled backdrop. Michigan only needed one look to tell what was wrong. "The belt snapped," he stated simply, pointing to the side of the vehicle.
Sure enough, two wheels shone empty where there should have been a rubber belt. Tidbits of melted rubber coated some of the surrounding machinery.
"Okay, but how do we fix it?" Kansas asked, one eyebrow raised expectantly.
Michigan huffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "We call a technician, duh. There is no way that something stupid like Illinois' hair band or Nebraska's rubber band collection would solve this. Just 'cause I love cars don't mean I have every single piece ever on hand. We may be States but come on."
Kansas sighed, "fair enough, I'll get Indiana."
True to his word, Kansas disappeared into the car again, emerging with Indiana's flip phone. He paused for a moment before Illinois shouted a number at him. Kansas dialled, grimacing towards his sister who was making faces in the window.
Michigan meanwhile piled into the car next to Missouri, running a hand through his hair. His sister gave him a warm lazy smile, tossing his romance book back into his lap. "There you go, the ending was too sappy for my tastes. Sorry."
Michigan waved it off, pulling the book back up to his chest. "Psh, don't sweat it. It's fine. Besides, this story isn't for everyone. I just really like the author."
Missouri giggled, more to herself than at Michigan. "Well, I'm glad you like it. Perhaps you could tell me all about this author while we wait?"
Michigan nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and beginning to tell his most trusted sibling all about this author. She would always be there to listen to him, to any of them. Someone has to be a mother amidst all the silliness of politics and power games.
A/N: Well I wasn't sure where to leave that one...but uh...yeah... I'm thinking of making the plot a bit more...serious. Perhaps darker would be the better term? Maybe? I don't really know for sure, but I definitely want a darker story for this account. Maybe it'll be this one, maybe it'll be a different one. I'm not sure! Side note, Micigan's swollen ankles refers to Flint and the water poisoning. I personally find it disgusting what the Govoner did. Others do not. Either way thanks a whole bunch! ~Cornonlecob