A/N: Hey! So review and read, if you please! :)
America decided he wanted to skip down the list to a place he wouldn't be so close to Russia. He decided to head for a boot. America walked up the sidewalk whistling a tune.
"Feli, get the door! Its Hamburger Bastard... damn.. he's not here... fucking Potato Bastard!" was the dialogue leading up to a disgruntle Southern Italy opening the door,
"What do you want Hamburger Bastard?" America figured best to just talk with the angry Italian because at least then he wouldn't have to ask his question a zillion times.
"Well..." America reeled off the usual question. Romano stared off in the distance think a little bit. About a minute later he decided just to respond honestly.
"Do you want mine or fratello?" he asked with a sigh. America responded that both would be awesome. Romano flinched, the word 'awesome' was associated with a certain Prussian he hated.
"Okay, well my reasons are green for top of a tomato, red is obviously for a tomato, and white is a wasted tomato. My brother says that 'green is spices, red is red sauces and white is alfredo sauce and some cheeses'." South Italy said this all in pretty much monotone. America had interrupted his afternoon slumber. Okay more like his go to bed the night before and not wake up until sundown the next day slumber but that didn't matter. America noticed he was no longer wanted within a 10 kilo-meter radius of the Southern part Italy so he left.