"A-Alfred…" Matthew reached out to his brother, who was currently irking Carlos, the student from Cuba.

"Hahahaha! Take that stupid cigar out of your mouth, Cuban, and come eat burgers with me and Matthew!" Alfred pounded his chest proudly, sparkling to the point where everybody in the room felt blinded.

"Ay, mi Dios! Let me go, Alfred, you bastardo! I have to set up my tuba right now!" Carlos smacked Alfred, making the latter let out a yelp of pain, dropping him to the ground. "You crazy man, how did you get into this academy?"

Alfred laughed arrogantly, and puffed out his chest. "Because I'm just that awesome at the trumpet, that's why!"

Carlos grumbled, turning his head away from the American. "Not to mention good at eating junk food too…"

"Hah? What was that?" Alfred turned to him with a naïve and clueless grin on his face.

"A-ah, nothing, I swear!"

"Oh, okay! Burger time again, I guess!" He promptly unwrapped another McDonald's Big Mac, and greedily bit into it, scarfing it down as if he was a machine of some sort.

The students from Central America stared at him disgustedly, despite all of them having very large appetites for their native foods, as well. One girl, Carla de los Santos, the Mexican representative, had her eyes on him. She had curling chocolate hair, mischievously sparkling amber eyes, a wonderfully alluring figure, and a golden tan; a girl that any guy would ask for. The men from the other countries ogled at her, wondering what she ever saw in him.

"Senor Alfred, what might you be doing?" Carla walked towards him, her hips swaying from side to side, earning stares from across the room.

"Oh, Carla!" He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, having known her for many years. Munching on yet another burger, he offered the half-eaten Quarter Pounder. "Want some?"

She scrunched her nose in both disgust and admiration of his appetite, as she waved a hand. "No, I am fine, gracias Alfred."

"Hm… Whatever my dear Carlita says!" He took another bite, a wave of awesome pleasure washing over his entire body. 'McDonald's truly is Heaven… no wonder everybody back home likes it so much!'

"Alfred, would you like to eat pancakes during lunch today?" Matthew approached his brother, who let go of Carla seeing the near-invisible brother of his.

He thought hard for a few minutes, before turning to Matthew with a childish pout. "Can I eat them with lots of burgers, hot dogs, and whatever awesome food I like?"

"…" The shorter boy patted his older twin brother's shoulder, much like a parent would. "Of course, whatever you'd like…"

"I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, BROTHA! NO WONDER MOM AND DAD HAD YOU WITH ME!" He grabbed each side of his brother's waist with both hands, and slung him over his shoulder, cackling.

"Now I'm the hero, and Matt's my awesome sidekick!"

Matthew shrieked rather quietly, and pounded his brother's back, flailing his legs, but not with much strength. "Alfred, please let me down now!"

"Not in a million years, Mattie!"

The homeroom teacher interrupted their, meaning Alfred's, excitement. Yanking on Alfred's ear, he screamed to everybody in the room. "GET OUT, EVERYBODY! IT'S TIME FOR YOUR STUPID CONCERT HALL!"

"OW, TEACH! LET ME GO! IT HURTS, IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS—"

"I'LL LET GO ONCE YOU LEARN TO SHUT YOUR LITTLE TRAP, ALFRED F. JONES! ALSO, PUT YOUR POOR BROTHER DOWN! HE LOOKS LIKE HE'S HALF DEAD!"

"Really?" He turned to look at a limp Matthew, whose face had turned a mix of purple and green. "Oh, oops. Sorry Teach, sorry Matt." He put Matthew down, who crumpled into a blob onto the floor.

"Alfred, please don't ever do that ever again…"

He rubbed the nape of his neck childishly, smiling guiltily. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"As long as you don't do that again… Let's just go to Concert." A motion sick Matthew stood up shakily, supported by his older and taller brother. He coughed harshly, as he reached for his saxophone case. Alfred got to it first, carrying the saxophone along with his own precious silver trumpet.

"Nah, I got it, Matt. You need to be supported until we get to the hall."

"I feel like I want to throw up…"

"NO, STAY STRONG, DAMN YOU MATT! A MAN DOESN'T THROW UP BECAUSE OF THAT!"

He groaned, clutching his stomach. "Then that must mean I'm not a man, Al…"

"NO, DO NOT SAY THAT, YOU IDIOT! NOBODY WHO'S RELATED TO ME IS A PUSSY LIKE THAT!"

The teacher slammed his desk, shrieking like never before. His face turned a shade of deep crimson from his screaming. "ALL OF YOU GET OUT OF MY FUCKING CLASSROOM! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU ALL EVER AGAIN!"

"I think we made him angry, Matt…" Alfred said as he opened the door for his Latin American classmates, who all glared at him.

"Whose fault is that, Alfred?"

"Maybe Matt's?" Alfred rubbed his chin with the hand that was supporting his brother.

"NO ALFRED, IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT THIS HAPPENED!" They all started screaming as a cacophony of Spanish and other dialects combined to create a very ugly sound that could be heard from down the hallway, even in the Asian classrooms.

"Oh, oops! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Alfred grabbed his brother's hand, dragging a screaming Matt along as the Central American students chased after the two with their instruments.

"RUN, MATT! THE CRAZY TERRORISTS ARE AFTER US!"

"ALFRED, SLOW DOWN! I'M GOOOOONNNNNNNAAAAA BBBBBBEEEEEEE !" A green-faced Matt put his hand over his mouth as his brother swung open the door to the concert hall.

"BASTARDO, WHERE ARE YOU! WE MUST CUT OFF YOUR HEAD BEFORE THE TEACHER YELLS AT US AGAIN!"

"SI, SI, OFF WITH HIS HEAD!" The Guatemalan boy pumped his fist into the air, fire literally burning in his eyes, along with his fellow Central American classmates.

"I think we made them mad, Matt."

The Canadian swung a hand to his own face, and smacked it many consecutive times, as his oblivious brother stared at him.